Page 53 of Snap Shot

Landon dawdles along while I leg it from the elevators to the front desk. Boiled blood pumps into every part of my body. The vein in my forehead throbs with vengeance.

“Good afternoon! May I help you?”

“Yes,Antony, youmay,” I fire back to the too-cheery, unsuspecting clerk, slapping my palm to the high countertop. “There's been a grave oversight.”

“Oh, no. What seems to be the problem?”

“Theproblemis you've got us” —I point between myself and Landon, who leans his elbow on the marble surface, an unbothered smile on his face— “in the same room.”

He buffs his fingernails against his black hoodie, inspects them with a frown, then winks at the front desk clerk.

“We're having a little argument,” Landon whispers with an explanatory nod. He scrunches his nose before that dumb perfect smile returns to his dumb handsome face.

I scoff. The nerve!

Antony flicks his gaze to Landon, then me, quirking a brow. “Ma'am?”

“It's. A. Mistake.” My eyes widen for emphasis, index finger jabbing into the counter, with every enunciated point. “I didnotbook my stay here with him.” Temper quickly unraveling, I tense my jaw to maintain some sort of restraint. “Weneedseparate rooms.”

Anthony is unfazed by my anger. “I'm sorry, Miss…?”

“Davé.” A galloping cadence strums out from my fingernails against the stone. My patience hangs by the weakest of threads, much like whatever's left on Antony's thinning hairline.

“I'msosorry, Ms.Davé,” he responds with rehearsed, rueful eyes. “I don't have a different solution than when I spoke to Mr. Radek before. We arecompletelyfull this weekend. We don't have any rooms available…”

“And how is that my fault?” My palm turns into a fist before slamming down. “I paid for this suite!”

“Funny you say that,” Landon finally chimes in. “So did I.”

“We can clear that right up for you.” Antony clatters away on the keyboard. “Your weekend stay is on us. Enjoy your complimentary—”

“Are you listening to me?” I shake my head, moving my arms around in shaky circles.

“I do apologize, but my hands are tied—”

“Welp! You heard it from the horse's mouth.” Landon straightens and claps his hands together. “Thanks for trying, Ant. We'll share the room.” He hauls his gear over his shoulder.

I whip my head to my unhinged client. He must be out of his mind. “We will do nothing of the sort!”

Antony's confusion lingers.

“Sure, we will.”

This asshole has the nerve to lead me away from the desk, his hand on my lower back. It flattens against the dip above my ass, his grip warm, firm, and insistent. I hate that I like how it feels.

“What? Stop that! What are you doing?” Fighting him is no use but I do it anyway. My shoes squeak, the flat soles losing traction over the flooring. A few inches taller and at least fifty pounds heavier, I'm no match when Landon's determined to torture me, even with one hand.

“Have a nice day, Antony. Thanks for all your help!” He waves and smiles at gawking passersby.

“We arenotfriends,” I grate out. My attempt to elbow him is foiled by a set of skis. I hiss and rub the joint.

“You're making a scene,” Landon murmurs.

The elevator doors open, and he pushes us through. When it closes, I wrench his arm away from me. He lets go.

“What is your problem, Radek?”

Pushing out a short, exasperated breath, he hits the button for the floor, then shoots me an annoyed glare. “I'm looking right at her.”

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