Page 267 of The Sinner: James

With that, I turn around and slip into the car, his voice echoing behind me.

“The women are not what you think.”

The door slams shut, and the car pulls away while I dig my nails into my palms to suppress a scream of frustration.

4

RAIN

Minutes later,I march into the hotel.

Impatiently, I pull to an abrupt stop in front of the concierge desk.

It’s ten minutes to midnight, and the clerk’s eyes are glued to the TV screen.

Like everybody else, he’s watching the live stream from Times Square. People cheer on the streets, anxious to welcome the New Year.

“I need to check out,” I deadpan.

The clerk glances over his shoulder and looks at me as if I lost my mind.

He reads my expression before spinning to me, swiftly regaining his composure and displaying a more professional demeanor.

“What room, Miss?”

“The Red Suite.”

“Is something wrong with it?”

“No. I just want to check out. That’s all,” I say curtly.

“Our policy...” he starts and then pauses. “Right,” he says after catching sight of my death glare. “The suite was paid for,” he says, tapping the computer screen with his index finger.

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving this place until you charge my credit card,” I bark, finally getting his full attention.

He studies me for another moment, pondering whether to call the police, get me some medical help, or give me what I want.

His eyes soften.

“I will lose my job, Miss,” he says quietly.

He’s a young guy, perhaps a few years older than me.

“Ugh… These people.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I sweep my credit card off the counter and dash to the elevator.

Before long, I storm into my suite, pull out my suitcase, and start packing.

A knock on the door draws my eyes to the entrance.

I muse that it must be the staff, so without giving it a second thought or checking to see who it is, I pace to the door and swing it wide open.

Our eyes clash the very next moment.

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