Page 45 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

“Are you crazy?” Morgan snaps.

“No,” I grunt as I get into my new seat. “But I am very good at my job.”

I smile as I click the seatbelt on. Then I turn to the driver.

“Hi. I’m Scarlett,” I tell him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Morgan mutters. Donovan is chuckling. I don’t know if he finds me funny or if he just thinks it’s funny when someone ruffles Scrooge’s feathers.

If I had to guess, both.

“Sebastian,” the driver grins, clearly unbothered by my edit to the seating chart. “But you can call me Seb.”

“You can call him nothing,” Morgan snaps. “Because you have no reason to talk to the driver.”

“I will, Seb,” I emphasize before rolling my window down. “Now, if no one minds, I have a travel profile to update.”

With that, I stick my head out the window and grin as the wind catches my hair, tossing it behind me. Then I hold my phone out to catch a video of it, making sure the Pacific Ocean, trees, and the beautiful houses are all visible behind me.

“Hello beautiful people! You’ll never guess where I am this week. San Diego! I know it’s been a minute since I’ve posted anything, but I am back. So get ready. I am about to flood your feed with photos and videos of all that San Diego has to offer, from dining to beaches to markets and more. And wait until you see where I am staying. Because I am about to take you on a worldwide adventure. Over the next few weeks, I will be reviewing a string of luxury hotels that will have you renewing your passports and emptying your pockets. So pack your bags and don’t forget the sunnies because in a few hours, you’ll be on vacation with me. And it’s going to be luxurious.”

“God, I missed this,” I say as I roll the window back up. In the rearview, I catch Morgan shaking his head.

“Do you really think anyone can hear you in the wind?” he asks.

“That’s what mini mics and edits are for,” I say, playing the audio back, and sure enough, it’s twice as clear.

I glance in the mirror. Morgan is not impressed.

But Donovan is smiling.

“She’s good,” Donovan whispers, loud enough for me to hear him. And I am pretty sure it’s intentional.

“Lordy sakes alive,” I let out as I step out of the car and close the door behind me. I nearly fall off the curb as I stare up at the resort. It literally looks like a white beach castle.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Donovan asks. “It’s one of my favorites.”

As Seb unloads our bags onto a golden cart, I look back at Morgan. I expect to see him on his phone or glaring, or doing something negative, but he is also staring at the hotel. His lips are slack, and as he lifts his shades off his eyes, there is a small sense of wonder in them. Something almost haunting.

It’s instantly apparent that he truly does not visit the resorts. Or at least he hasn’t in a very long time.

“You did well with the updates,” Donovan tells him. “The gardens are a lovely touch.”

“She would have liked them,” he says with an indifferent sniff before heading towards the door.

She?

We walk into the resort, and it is everything I imagined. It’s similar to the Sapphire in Miami, but more. The lobby is twice as big. The marble extends from the floor to the walls to the ceiling. There are giant fish tanks and windows overlooking the ocean. There are two fountains and two glass elevators that lead up to open-space floors. Every room is on the ocean side of the building. Every room is a suite with a view.

But despite the luxury of it all, it’s instantly obvious that the resort is no fairytale. A guest at the counter is literally screaming at one of the front desk people, and Morgan stalks over. Obviously, we follow, though standing back.

“I told that housekeeper three times that the drain in the bathroom was not draining, but nothing has been done about it!” the woman cries out.

“Which drain is it again?” the desk person asks.

“The sink! The bloody bathroom sink!” she cries out again, her British accent more prevalent than before. “I didn’t hop the pond for stopped-up sinks and stale pastries. Oh! And don’t get me started on the coffee.”

“The coffee?” the girl asks, clearly flustered.