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“Sure. Of course, she was.” I shake my head and stand, then circle behind the gorgeous couch, running my hand along the back of it. Then I move to the side of the room to look at the photos of Chanel herself. Some were taken in her original apartment at the Ritz. “I can’t believe I’m here. I probably owe you all kinds of sexual favors for this.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
I turn to find him standing across the room, his hands still in his pockets, watching me with cool eyes. His voice is full of insult, and it makes my heart hurt. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
“You’re angry.”
“I’m…fine. I’ll do or say whatever you need me to in order to make you comfortable.”
I realize that I’m being ridiculous. I need to loosen up and enjoy this opportunity of a lifetime. Just because it’s something that I wouldn’t normally be able to afford doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t enjoy the gift that it is.
So, I smile and run across the room and launch myself into Ryan’s arms, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him with all I’ve got.
“Thank you,” I say against his lips, enjoying the way his hands are planted on the globes of my ass and the way his muscles bunch under my hands. “Thank you so much for all of this. It’s amazing and wonderful and a dream come true, and I’m so grateful.”
“You’re welcome. And this smile is way better than the frown from a second ago.”
“I think I’m just overwhelmed,” I admit, and rest my forehead against his. “That’s all. We’re in the Coco Chanel suite, Ryan.”
“Yes, we are.”
“That’s fucking amazing.”
“I’m here, and I’m ready to shop,” London announces when she waltzes into our room a couple of hours later. Ryan and I ordered room service and took showers, then enjoyed a quick walk around the hotel to get our bearings and look around. It was exactly what I needed to refresh and fight off the jet lag.
When London texted and said that they’d arrived, we came back to meet them at our room.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I say with a wide grin. “Look at where I’m staying!”
“I know,” London says with a little squeal and then does a happy dance before pulling me in for a big hug. “Holy shitballs, Batman.”
“Nice digs,” Drew says as he walks in behind her, looking handsome in a white button-down shirt and dark blue jeans.
“Which suite are you in?” I ask them.
“The Hemingway Suite,” Drew replies. “And it’s ridiculous. Not this big, but it’s fancy as shit.”
I grin at him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I think every room in this place is fancy as shit.”
“You’d be right,” London counters, and then high-fives Ryan. “We pulled it off. Okay, you two, show me everything. I’ve never stayed in this room.”
It takes us thirty minutes to walk around and ooh and aah over every little detail. We speculate and gossip and talk about the icon herself until we’re both a couple of giggling idiots.
It’s the best day ever.
“We have shopping appointments,” London says, checking her watch. “In thirty minutes.”
“So, we’re shopping before the shows?” I ask her as we sit on the iconic couch.
“Yes, because while you always look stylish and put together, you’ll want some ready-to-wear pieces from the fashion houses to wear to the shows. Then, when it’s all said and done, we’ll shop again for the new stuff. It really doesn’t suck.”
I do a mental inventory of my bank account and just about break out into a sweat.
There’s just no way that I can shop like this and still pay my bills.
“Don’t overthink it,” London advises, her voice low as the guys have a conversation in another part of the suite. “This is Ryan’s treat, Poll. I’m not footing any of the bill, so you don’t have to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m not exactly comfortable with him footing the bill.”
