Fallon
The hotel was breathtaking.
Glittering chandeliers. Marble floors that gleamed under the golden lights. Staff that moved with the kind of quiet efficiency that screamed money.
Everything about it was ridiculous.
And yet, none of it was what had my stomach in knots.
It was the suite.
The single suite.
The moment the elevator doors opened to the top floor, I knew. Before the concierge even unlocked the double doors, before I stepped inside to see the massive one-bedroom layout, I knew.
And I should’ve said something.
But Reid was already inside, already draping his suit jacket over a chair, already loosening his tie like this was just another hotel stay.
Like we hadn’t spent the past week avoiding each other. Like we hadn’t built a solid wall of tension so thick I could bare
