Page 27 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

“You said it was a book?”

“Yes. It’s small and leather and–”

“Kind of a reddish color?” she asks.

“Yes! Yes, it’s wine-colored. You found it?!” I say, literally stepping up onto the couch.

“Housekeeping found it,” she says.

“Oh my God! So I can come get it?” I ask, dancing.

“It was mailed back to you,” she states.

And I stop.

“Mailed back to me?”

“Yes, ma’am. Overnighted, I believe.”

“But…I didn’t get it,” I say.

“I can’t help you with that,” she states. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Oh no, you’ve done enough,” I say, and then she hangs up.

And I step off the couch.

“Unbelievable.” I shake my head. They are so lucky I already reviewed them because I have two more things I’d add to that list right now. Three if you include their shitty customer service.

I plop down on the couch with a sigh and pout as I mourn the death of my most prized material possession. I don’t have a lot of those considering I’m a travel writer and I prefer to be pretty untethered from physical items.

It almost feels like a bad omen that I lost it. Because since then, I lost my job. What’s next?

I sigh and throw my head back, staring at the popcorn ceiling above my head. I can handle this, right? It’s not my first dry spell. Obviously careers like this ebb and flow. It’s why I typically have money tucked away. Of course, with increased rent and gas prices and the airline crisis, that little nest egg has dwindled to almost nothing.

Which is why I needed that job.

Any job at this point.

I wonder if Jaque needs help in the bakery?

I do know a lot about pastries.

Suddenly my phone buzzes again. My attention trails down to the lit-up screen in a weary drag. Mostly because with my luck it’s probably my sister. She has a nose for sniffing out my poverty levels when they dip this low.

Fortunately for me, it’s not my sister. It’s a DM linked to my Instagram account. I sigh and open the message.

BaleResorts- Hello. This is Donovan Price, personal assistant to Morgan Bale of Bale Resorts. How are you today?

Uh-oh. This can’t be good. Something in me tells me they figured out that I am the mystery writer. After all, they are a billion-dollar company. They’ve probably got a pretty long arm. An arm that wants to strangle me, if I had to guess.

Still. I have to play cool. Even if they accuse me of being the writer, I have to deny it. I signed an NDA, after all. So they aren’t the only ones that will want to choke me out.

MooreToExplore- Hello! I’m doing amazing.

BaleResorts- Wonderful. I’ll get the point since I’m sure you are busy planning your next adventure.

MooreToExplore- Always. Haha.