Page 61 of The Player's Obsession

“Oh. Right.” I look through the peephole and see a man dressed like the valet.

“I’ll get it,” he says, and I step out of his way. Oliver opens the door, and the porter brings in our luggage and places it on the rack near the bathroom. Oliver slips him a tip. The porter smiles at me and says, “Congratulations,” on his way out.

“See? This is out of control,” I say.

“Mm, well, look what I just found.” He shows me his phone. “Someone, probably Serena, has posted a picture of your ring on social media.”

I blink and practically drop my drink. Is the diamond really ten carats? Someone in the comment section estimates the cost to be what an average football player makes in one year. Oliver spent that much on one ring—the ring on my finger.

“Oliver, did you really spend that much?” I gasp.

“I wanted you to be impressed.”

“You could have given me a twist tie if we were broke.” I look at the ring glistening on my left hand. “No wonder everyone thinks we’re married. How do you put a band with this?”

“There is one, just for the record.” He gives me a smug smile. “And we ain’t broke, far from it. I’ve made some wise investments, and I’ve been lucky with some long shots. You know numbers— they add up.”

“Yes, I know numbers, that’s not the point. You spent all that money to make Melanie jealous?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s a pretty ring, and I wanted you to have something that would make you happy.”

“I think I need to sit.” I turn and sit on the edge of the bed. “Is it me, or is the room chilly?”

“It must be the evening chill setting in.” He walks to the thermostat on the wall. “It’s seventy-five degrees.”

My insides are warm from the alcohol, but my hands are cold.

I finish my drink to warm myself. “I need to eat. I can’t drink much on an empty stomach.”

There’s another knock on the door. This time I’m not startled.

Oliver looks through the peephole and opens the door. “Serena.”

“Hate to disturb you, but it’s time for happy hour. Come on, it will be fun,” she says as the self-appointed camp counselor. All she needs is a whistle and a clipboard. I hope she plans on drinking water because the last thing she needs is more liquor.

“Fun?” Oliver questions her. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

“If you’re late, I’ll know why.” She giggles and glances at me sitting on the bed. Oliver closes the door in her face.

“Happy hour is here at last.” I stand and help myself to the bottle. My glass is only half full when the champagne runs out. I’m bummed.

“We’ll have to get another bottle delivered,” Oliver comments.

“No, thanks, I don’t need more.”

“No.” He points to me and then himself. “We need more.”

The accountant in me cringes at the thought of how much he’s spending for all this. Then I remind myself he’s a big boy, he knows what he wants, and he can afford it. Who am I to talk him off the ledge? I’m sure he has plenty of friends and a brother who can do that for him.

“Ok. I guess we’re going as is?” I point to our jeans and remember what Lucinda said about matching his casual vibe.

“Sure. Why not. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I tip my head back and pour the last of the liquid courage down my throat. Putting the glass down, I walk towards him. He sets his glass down on a coffee table and opens the door. “Oh, my purse.” I run back and snag my clutch off the bed where I left it.

“Here’s your room key.” He hands me a teal-colored card. “Let’s go find the others.” He nods to the hallway.

I don’t want to keep him waiting. I’m sure he’s looking forward to making his entrance and seeing Melanie. I hope this ring is insured. The last thing I need is to lose a ring worth a fortune.

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