Page 42 of Never To Be Mine

“What, you think I have the plague?”

“No.” He turned back to the front desk clerk. “This way it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter what?”

He didn’t answer. Just finished checking in with that infuriating calm that made me want to shake him.

The clerk handed him two key cards, and he passed one to me without looking. “Be ready to leave by eight tomorrow morning. Meeting’s at nine thirty, and I want to get there early.”

“I know how to be on time,” I snapped.

He just nodded and headed toward the elevators, his garment bag slung over his shoulder.

I stood there for a second, staring after him. Was he seriously just going to walk away? Not even offer to get dinner? Not make some stupid comment or flash that cocky smile?

“Wait,” I called out, hurrying after him. “I’m heading up too.”

He held the elevator door for me. Small miracle. We stepped inside together and the space suddenly felt very small. I pressed the button for my floor—seventeen—and watched him hit twenty-three.

Six floors between us. He truly had put some space between us.

The elevator started its ascent, and I found myself getting more annoyed with each passing floor. What was his deal? I’d been bracing myself all day for him to try something. To make some flirty comment or suggest we grab drinks or dinner. I was supposed to get the satisfaction of shooting him down.

But he’d done nothing. Just treated me like a business associate he was barely tolerating.

Which was fine. Great, even. Exactly what I wanted.

So why did it feel like a rejection?

The elevator slowed as it approached my floor. I grabbed my bags and moved toward the door, not looking at him.

“Sweet dreams,” he called from behind me.

I whirled around to say something, but the doors were already sliding shut, leaving me staring at my own reflection in the polished metal.

“Asshole,” I muttered to my mirrored self.

I stomped down the hallway to my room, my bags bumping against my legs with each step. The key card worked on the first try, which was good because I probably would have kicked the door if it hadn’t.

The room was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. King-sized bed with what looked like thousand-thread-count sheets. A massive bathroom with a big, fluffy robe hanging on the door.

I should have been thrilled. This was luxury I rarely experienced. Instead, I felt twisted up inside. Out of sorts. Like something was wrong but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.

I dropped my bags on the bed and walked to the window, pressing my forehead against the glass. The city stretched out below me.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I should have insisted my father send someone else. Anyone else.

Being around Hollis Blackwell was doing something to me. Making me feel things I had no business feeling. Making me notice things I shouldn’t notice, like the way his jaw tightened when I insulted him. How his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

I headed for the bathroom. A hot shower would clear my head. Help me focus on what mattered, which was tomorrow’s meeting.

That was what I was here for. Not to obsess over why Hollis Blackwell hadn’t flirted with me.

I turned the water as hot as I could stand it and stepped under the spray, letting it beat against my shoulders. Tomorrow I’d be back in control.

Tonight I just needed to stop thinking about him.

14