Page 30 of Forbidden Game

My eyes slip back to the sign from earlier, and curiosity wins. Well, curiosity and avoidance.

I follow the little arrows directing me to the shower suites.

After a little navigation and winding around hallways, I come to a set of six wooden doors. The first handle doesn’t budge, so I move on to the next. It clicks open, and I carefully pull the large frame open before tentatively stepping inside. The heels of my boots clack against the marble titles as I begin to gawk at my surroundings.

My mind spins as I take in the rainfall shower, custom robe, bidet, and what looks to be one of those heated toilets. There’s even an assortment of skincare products lined up next to the sink, including a full-service shaving station.

The hotels I stay in don’t even have bathrooms that look this nice normally.

I spot a phone on the wall and squint at the placard next to it.

Dial 9 for dry-cleaning services.

Dial 7 for amenity refreshments.

Dial 4 for food/beverage.

Do they expect people to live here? How are there dry-cleaning services?

I lock the door and sit on the stone bench next to the shower.

If they had a bath in here, I would seriously consider taking one.

My head falls back against the cool marble wall, and I let my eyes drift shut for a few seconds. There’s something different about the quiet of a bathroom. The silence here speaks differently. It grounds you.

I open my eyes and stare at myself in the large mirror across from me.

I still look pretty decent.

I cross to the sink and slap my handbag onto the counter before reaching in and sifting around for my cherry lip gloss. My fingers close around the hourglass tube. I apply a healthy coat, inhaling the sweet scent. I’ve been using the same lip gloss since I was in high school. I’m honestly lucky it’s never gone out of production. Sure, they’ve tweaked their formula over the years, but it’s mostly stayed the same.

I smack my tinted lips together in the mirror a few times. I take out some of my blotting papers to fix the shine on my cheeks and then give a quick wipe under my eyes to clear up any mascara smudges. After giving a quick fluff to my bangs, I feel a little more put together.

I spin in the mirror, checking that my outfit is still pristine, and give myself a quick nod.

All right. Back to business.

I fling open the large wooden door, but it’s a lot lighter than I remember. My arm is nearly wrenched out of its socket as the door goes wide. I grimace as my shoulder twinges but shake it off.

I make a beeline for the dining area, belatedly realizing that I don’t have a card to get in. I take a step aside and embarrassment creeps up my cheeks as I pull out my phone to text Parker.

However, the door slides open and the man of the hour smiles at me before I type a single word.

“Glad to see you didn’t run away.”

“The bathrooms in this place are too much.” I swerve around him back to our table and plop down on my seat.

“If you think this is extra, you should see their lounge in Hong Kong. It has a sauna.”

After what I saw today, I really don’t doubt him. I’d even go so far as to bet that they offered massages, too.

The waitress has dropped off our meal in the time I’ve been gone. There is a steaming hot bowl of what looks to be an asparagus risotto. I eye it warily. Despite how good it looks; little flags go off in my mind.

“You’re sure this is vegan?” I ask him, pushing the creamy rice around with my spoon.

“I double-checked with the waitress; I promise.”

Apprehension still rolls in my gut. It would’ve been easier if I’d just picked something off the menu knowing there was a little vegan symbol next to it. You have no idea how many times someone has said something is vegan without knowing exactly what veganism is. The confusion for vegetarianism is disproportionate.

---