Page 8 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

“Why did you do it?” he asked once the doors closed. The mirrored panels reflected our images back to us, and I watched him in the glass just as he watched me. “Why did you… kiss me?”

It was cute that he hesitated before saying it, as if he were a little boy saying a curse word. I considered not answering him. He was, after all, a stranger who needed no excuse from me. He’d learn in time, from the gossip of other workers, that Margot Massey did things for no reason. “Were you not listening?”

“You really kissed me to prove a point to someone? Just because you could?”

I let out a slow breath, watching as my shoulders fell with it in the mirror. “Maybe.”

“You go around kissing strangers,” Mr. Pennington began. “But aren’t you engaged?”

“My,” I exclaimed theatrically. “You enjoy gossip, do you? You’ll fit in quite well around here.”

It amused me more than irritated me how he spoke as if he knew my situation. His rapid blinking like a scolded child also was entertaining. What did irritate me, though, was him bringing up Aaron Astor in the first place.

I’d always known it, but it was another thing to be confronted with the truth that my name did not come up unless tied to another man’s.

The elevator door dinged as it opened up to the eighth floor, the warm glow of lighting illuminating the golden hallway. I started down the thin carpet toward my room. “Think about what you want in return for the kiss,” I said without looking back at him. “Despite you being a spy for my parents, I keep my word. Whatever youwant.”

Mr. Pennington didn’t immediately respond, and for a moment, I thought he stayed on the elevator. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you for your service.” I stopped at my hotel room door and faced him before unlocking it. “Thank you for taking one for my team.”

Even from here, I could see the tips of his cheeks pinken. “Next time… you should work on your technique.”

My eyes dropped to his lips on their own accord. Even though it happened no more than an hour ago, kissing him was hazy in my mind. I’d focused too much on the gasps that immediately rang out. Despite the strangeness of it, I found myself wishing I’d been paying more attention, if only to recall what they felt like. “That sounds an awful lot like flirting, Mr. Pennington.”

“I meant—I meant asking for favors, not?—”

“I got it.”

Now his skin definitely flushed, and in the golden light of the hotel hallway, it almost made him seem angelic. “And it’s Sumner,” he said softly. “Sumner Pennington.”

“Sumner Pennington,” I echoed, and even if I couldn’t remember what his lips felt like, I focused on the way mine curve around his name now.Sumner. It was a unique name; one I’d never heard before. It suited him.

I slid my keycard along my hotel room door. It unlocked with a click, and I twisted the handle. Before disappearing inside, I turned back to him. “Tomorrow, in the morning, I’ll be going to visit Nancy. You’re not coming with me.” I lifted my chin as I looked at him,letting out a contented breath. “But I’ll be wanting brunch afterward, so I’ll come back to the hotel for you.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Sumner said, holding my gaze as he did. There was something boyish about his expression, too—the face of someone wholly untouched by this world. It was a useless wish, but I hoped it would remain that way.

This world swallowed people like him whole. It was only a matter of time.

With the dull thought, I inclined my head and retreated into my hotel room, allowing the door to close loudly between us.

CHAPTER THREE

Iwoke up to the sound of an alarm the next morning, but it wasn’t mine. Ever since I moved into the penthouse suite last week, the entire floor had been quiet. I knew the suites on this level were more expensive, more rarely rented out, but I hadn’t realized how vacant it’d be. How alone I’d be.

At least, I had been alone until the blaring nuclear meltdown of someone’s alarm woke me the next morning.

I removed my silk eye mask. The alarm continued to ring from the room beside mine. How was it that the person could sleep through the alarm when it was right by their ear, and yet it woke me up through the wall? Were our beds butted up against the same wall? Were they deaf?

I gave it four more seconds. On the fifth, I banged my fist into the built-in headboard, once, hard. The impact jarred my hand, but a moment later, the alarm stopped.

It was six in the morning, and I gave up on falling back to sleep. In my closet, I took my time picking my outfit, ultimately deciding on a sand colored Gilfman. The suit’s fabric was made of rayon and linen, whichmade it the perfect lightweight suit for the increasing temperatures. I picked out a loose silk shirt to go underneath, opting out of a vest for today. More of a casual look, but still elegant. My dark hair would look best down, where it would fall just to my collarbones, a beautiful contrast with the beige material. I moved into the bathroom, already picturing how I’d style it.

It was funny, my parents accusing me of growing too isolated when they were the reason I was alone. Instead of allowing me to remain in their house, they moved me to the penthouse suite on the eighth floor of Massey Suites with no hesitation. They didn’t invite me for family dinners. They never stopped by my room unless it was for something they needed, and were almost always vaguely threatening.

It was easy to become a recluse when everyone forced you into the role.

Once I finished getting ready—and double checking my suit for any wrinkles or loose threads—I opened the door to the hallway, wincing at the stark contrast from my dark room to the bright corridor. A second later, the door to the hotel room beside mine jerked inward, the mechanism jamming as whoever ripped it open.

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