Chapter Two: Setai Hotel
1138 Words
moped off lightly, the sweat that'd broke out of my forehead.
As I rode the elevator to the penthouse of the Sentai Hotel - it'd taken two staffers to take me up to the fortieth floor - I fidgeted the keys in my hands nervously.
Joanna had set up an off-record appointment for me with one of her agency’s most difficult clients. She worked at an elite matchmaking firm that paired the powerful with their equals—billionaires with royalties, CEOs with heiresses - for marriage. She was also very good at digging up informations.
I had told her I need needed money desperately. There are things from my past that needed to be settled. Scores that needed to be met.
I chewed desperately on a finger nail, as the elevator dinged to a stop, forcing me onto a private landing with its own lobby and an elegant, well-organized sitting area.
An open newspaper lay on a coffee table, with a hot coffee still steaming, as if someone had been waiting. Or probably just left.
The entry - pair of ornate mahogany doors - was just beyond looming.
'Could I bring myself to ring the door bell?'
Apparently, this penthouse was one of the largest. (more than ten thousand square feets) and the most expensive (thirty-five thousands dollars - a night) in Miami.
Who in their right mind would spend that much money on a hotel? Clearly he must be a multimillionario.
Other than that, I didn't know much about him. He was a businessman, here in Miami for two weeks. He'd been not only vetted, but vouched for by Joanna.
According to her, he was a regular at her agency notorious for always finding fault with his matches, but was decent to some extent.
Tempted to bolt, I pulled my phone to call Joanna.
When she answered. "I don't think I can do this, Jo. Call it off," I whispered as I began to pace the lobby, my stilettos silent on the plush beige rug.
"Of course you can. You don't understand how badly I wished it could be me. If this man is renting the penthouse in Sentai hotel for a two weeks imagine how rich he is!"
I exhaled loudly. "It feels difficult Jo..."
"You needed the money, Aurora," she interrupted. "I don't know what you need it for, but I'm sure it's something important to you, which is why I'm risking my job, doing this for you off the records."
I stayed silent for few seconds, short of what to say.
She was right. I really did needed the money. All the money I can lay my hands on. Legally, of course.
"I'd take that as a yes then," she said finally. "Take a deep breath, Aurora. You aren't one to feel nervous. Just remember my three key points, and you'll be fine."
And the line went dead.
I sighed as I smoothened over my ankle length cream colored short lacy gown. My best. I exhaled loudly, as I muttered to myself: 'Do this, Jenna! Get the money to map out your revenge.'
I had four rules, and in four years I'd lived by them.
1. Never to say anything above and beyond what's necessarily.
2. Never draw undue attention. Keep everyone at bay.
3. Never again, trust another human.
4. And above all, never fall in love.
And tonight, I'm about to break rule number two. Meeting a stranger I know absolutely nothing about.
"Okay. I can do this," I said psyching myself up in front of the lobby mirror. "Go get' em!"
January was usually mildly chilly. Today was no exception. Yet, I'd worn the light white lacy, V-neck gown which clung tightly to my body. I'd applied a little lip gloss, mascara, and a touch of light bronze eye shadow which brought out the vivid copper color of my irises. I left the length of my long lush dark hair down in loose curls and a pointy sliver stilettos adorned with tiny sliver bows at the straps criss-crossed around my legs.
I cleared my throat as I knocked on the door.
Two short raps.
No response came.
I looked at the coffee table once more and wondered if he'd a guard, a secretary or something.
It felt weird.
I knocked again. This time, three loud, long raps.
The door opened revealing my date. Or would-be boss, perhaps.
And Gracias...
He was drop dead gorgeous!
He looked to be in his early thirties, with hair full of rich, sleek, thick, dark chestnut colored hair and a built body. He was well over six feet tall. His blue eyes were hooded, his penetrating gaze roaming all over me.
He wore a lightweight winter white cashmere sweater, that molded over his rigid pecs. The color making the piercing blue eyes pop. Dark, tailored slacks highlighting muscular legs and lean hips.
"Yes!" he snapped at me as he gave me a once-over, while glancing behind me as if he expected someone else to be there.
"E-hem," I cleared my throat. "I'm here to see Mr. Nimrod Sylvester," I said.
"And who are you?" he asked, still holding the door handle.
"I'm Aurora Noah. From the Elite's Agency," I replied, surprised my voice sounded so casual when my heart was pounding.
Without a word, he left the door ajar, turned, heading for the living area. I stepped inside, closing the door. I followed.
Accent lightening illuminated the tasteful modern decor. Floor-to- ceiling panoramic windows offered what had to be the best view in the city. The opened Atlantic Ocean.
All the balcony doors were open, the sound of the waves reaching us even this high up. This place was huge. A Steinway piano gleamed like a black jewel in one corner; on the far terrace an infinity pool shimmered under the moonlight, palms swaying in massive planters.
He faced me, this time, hands in his pockets. "I confirmed a woman named Aurora Noah, which you are. One of the agent at the agency recommended you off the records. Are you okay with that?" His voice deep, almost a rumble.
"Absolutely." I said.
“Good,” he murmured, picking up a book from a low table, "because I'd hate to draw undue attention." Without warning, he tossed the book to me. I caught it, stumbling slightly in my stilettos.
“A Guide to Elegance – The Billionaire’s Family Secret,” I read aloud.
He stepped closer. “I gonna need you to memorize that book.”
My brows knit. “Why?”
I swallowed, his eyes were piercing and intriguing enough. But I wasn't comfortable with the way it bored into mine.
“Because you’re here to marry me,” he said softly, almost casually. “For three hundred and sixty-six days.”
"What!?" I exclaimed, dumbfounded.
- Writer
