AllFreeNovel
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I just need to connect to a world that is different and better than the one I’m spinning in.
Munching on a croissant, I dig deep into my purse, looking for my phone. I rake my fingers through the contents of my bag when I turn to stone, washed with heat.
Where is my phone?
I shove the rest of the food into my mouth and, chewing nervously, I turn the bag upside down. Everything falls on the table. The clatter of my things can’t remove the terrible sensation barreling through me.
Where the fuck is my phone? I didn’t lose it, did I?
I’ve always had nightmares about losing my phone. I don’t know why. Well, I do know why. It’s the hassle, the headache, and the fear that it might fall into the wrong hands.
All that shitty mess online with logging into my accounts. The two-factor authentication process. Needing a new phone.
Calling the phone company.
Trying to locate my cell phone, lock it, or simply remotely destroy it––I wish that were possible.
Where is my phone? It was here. I had it. I remember that I had it. It fell on the floor when Kai pushed my things off the bed.
Next, I’m on my knees, looking under the bed. I shove my hand under the frame and move it around. There’s no point in doing that. I can see there’s nothing underneath.
The space is clean. I can’t find a speck of dust, let alone my phone. Maybe it slid under another piece of furniture.
I spend the next ten minutes checking my entire hotel room, even the closet and the bathroom.
Although there’s no way it’s made it so far away from the bed.
Unless I suffer from amnesia or my phone has legs. Neither is a real possibility.
The housekeeper… I need to ask her.
Maybe she’s seen it, picked it up, and put it elsewhere.
Maybe she’s inadvertently stuck it into her cleaning products or scooped it up with the sheets.
Oh, that’s bad.
Images of my phone whirling in a giant washing machine batter my frazzled brain.
I need to go.
Somehow, I put on a pair of shorts, a skintight cami, and flip-flops before washing my face, brushing my hair, snatching my wallet and key card from inside my purse, and leaving the room.
It’s, um… I don’t know. Nine o’clock in the morning?
The corridors, the elevator, and the lobby are animated.
People are everywhere, heading to the restaurant, the gym, the pool, or sitting around the tables on the terrace, chatting.
I go straight to the front desk and ask for help. The man listens to me before making a phone call and checking some information on his computer.
He invites me to sit in the lobby while tracking the woman who has cleaned the room.
I wait, but before long, I become restless––I was restless anyway––so I step outside. Curiosity brings me to the front of the hotel, where cars pull in and out.
Alejandro comes to mind. Has he come back?
I look around, searching for the white Lamborghini. No sign of his ride. I spot the parking valet.
