Page 151 of Worth Every Penny

An army of servers march into the room, carrying plates of prawns and mango, surrounding the tables nearest the service entry first. It’ll only be a few minutes before we’re surrounded by them, too.

I’m not staying for mediocre food and bad conversation (mine, obviously). I can’t fault Erica. She’s been remarkably forgiving, considering the situation I’ve put her in.

I drain the dregs of wine from my glass and lean towards her. “I’m so sorry—”

“Go. Get out of here.” She flicks a wrist at me. “I’ll make your excuses for you.”

Shit.Am I that transparent?“Really, I—”

“You’re worse company than the shellfish.” I worry she’s annoyed, but then her features soften. “Go do your thing, with the girl from the office.” I am that transparent, then. “If the press runs a story that you stood me up, you’ll owe me.”

“Thank you,” I say, and in a matter of minutes I’m outside, calling the car.

The hotel is a solid four star in midtown, close to Rockefeller centre. Dark green paint covers the walls and jazz music hums from invisible speakers. I’m not easily intimidated, but I can feel the unfamiliar bubbling of nerves in my stomach as I cross the lobby. Kate’s here, in this building. Somewhere. I can sense her.

Doubt creeps in at the edges of my mind. Perhaps I misheard that one whispered phrase. Maybe it wasn’t ‘for you’. Maybe she’s not here for me at all. Perhaps she’s legitimately taking a well-earned mini break.

And happened to stop by the Hawkston building? I know she loves her work, but does she love it that much?

I shove the thought away and approach the desk. A smartly dressed receptionist sits behind it, quietly tapping on a keyboard. The concierge, who’s murmuring into the phone, sits next to her.

The receptionist looks up and gives me a breezy smile. “How can I help?”

“I’m here to meet Kate Lansen. Could you call her room for me?”

“Can I take your name, sir?”

“Nico.” I’m not blasting my surname across the hotel lobby.

She nods and dials a room number. I can hear the dull ringing on her end of the phone. We wait a few moments.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Miss Lansen isn’t answering. Would you like to leave a message? I’ll make sure she gets it when she returns.”

“No. I’ll wait.”

I cross the lobby and take a seat.

I’ll wait all bloody night if I have to.

KATE

“Table for one please,” I say as I approach the maître d'. I’m so distracted, he’s little more than a blur of features I would never be able to recognise in a line-up.

I’ve showered and changed into a light cotton dress, but I’m still feeling groggy, jet lagged and inherently unstable after that humiliating encounter with Nico and Erica Lefroy.

He was out with another woman, and I threw myself at him. The memory of that horrendous kiss-attack won’t go away. He said he wasn’t with her though, didn’t he? Or did I mishear that?

I try to remember our exact exchange, but I think I’d partially left my body by that point. I definitely wasn’t thinking straight.

“Do you have a reservation?” the maître d' asks, dragging me back to the real world.

“No.”

He scans the list in front of him. “We have one by the window. Come this way.”

As I follow him through the dimly lit restaurant, I wonder if I ought to have gone out for dinner. Maybe walking the streets would have cleared my head, but I couldn't face it. The hotel restaurant felt safer. I can run and hide in my room if the sudden urge to break down in tears overwhelms me.

To think I came all the way here, only to find that Nico’s spending the evening with Erica Lefroy.

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