Page 18 of The Plus-One Deal

CHAPTER 7

CLAIRE

Iwoke from a dead sleep to crashing and screaming, the sounds of the apocalypse rushing in from all sides. Something wentthumpabove me, and the wind keened. Footsteps came pounding, or hailstones, or thunder, a terrible rumbling that echoed off every wall. I sat up and gasped at the sound of glass tinkling, the chill of the wind gusting in from outside.

“Conrad?” I called. The wind swallowed my shout and I tried again louder. “Conrad?You in there?” I pulled my blanket around me and got to my feet.

“Right here,” he said, and lightning sheeted behind him. I caught a brief glimpse of him, black against the storm, and then he was gone, and I stood blinking, dazzled.

“We’re okay.” He took hold of my elbows. One of his hands was wet and the other was freezing. I flinched away, then grabbed for his arm.

“What’s going on? Did the windows blow out?”

“What?”

“The windows!”

Lightning caught Conrad shaking his head. “I opened the door, was all. The wind broke a glass.”

I shook him hard by his shirt. “You opened the door?”

“To see if—” A thunderclap cut him off mid-thought, so loud my teeth twinged and I stifled a scream. I burrowed into his shoulder and squeezed my eyes shut. He ran a hand through my hair and the thunder died out, but something was banging, a stray branch, a chair, slamming up on the window, trying to break in. It stopped, then it came again, three quick-fire taps.

“Someone’s at the door.”

I caught my breath. “What?”

“Someone’s knocking. Come on.” Conrad slid his arm around me and walked us to the door. He peered through the peephole, then opened the door.

“Sorry,” said the hotel clerk, his hair all disheveled. He looked like he’d been sleeping and had dressed in a hurry, skipping a button halfway up his shirt. The wind rose, and he had to shout to be heard. “The storm’s worse than we thought. We’re moving downstairs.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“We’re moving you to the ballroom, just to be safe.”

I pressed up against Conrad, still bleary from sleep. Safe? Were wenotsafe? How bad could it get?

“This is just a precaution,” the clerk went on. “In case the windows blow in, or the ceilings could leak. They probably won’t, but please, for your comfort?—”

“All right,” said Conrad. “Do we have time to get dressed?” He was already dressed, still in his dinner suit. The clerk glanced at me, in my robe and pajamas.

“Hurry,” he said. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

Conrad slammed the door shut and I scurried for the bathroom. I shimmied back into my sleek evening gown. The zipper caught when I tried to pull it, and I stood there grunting and cursing out loud. Conrad slid in behind me.

“Can I help?”

I turned my back to him, too scared to feel awkward. The wind was howling like a plane taking off, a terrible, spiraling jet-engine roar. I could feel the floor trembling, or maybe that was me. Or it was Conrad, his hands on my back. He was pressing my dress to me to stretch out the fabric, wiggling the zip tab to disengage it. Thunder clapped and his hand slipped. His thumb grazed my spine.

“Hold still,” he said. “I’ve almost got it.”

I tried to do as he said, but my breathing was ragged, my chest rising and falling, my dress moving with it. Conrad was murmuring some soothing nonsense, stroking my back, working my zipper. I felt it loosen, then catch, and then he had it. He zipped me up, smoothed my dress, and patted my hair into place.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I took his hand and we hurried out of the room. Out in the hall, the lights flickered, then steadied.

“This way,” said the clerk, and herded us to the stairs. We could hear other footsteps echoing below us, high, frightened voices,the slamming of doors. Above it all rose the wind and the roar of the storm, the pounding of rain against concrete walls. Conrad kept hold of me all the way down, his arm around me keeping me steady.

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