Page 62 of Kylo
She looked a little better.
I mean, that wasn’t hard, considering how upset and worn out she’d been the last time I’d seen her.
But there was a looseness in her shoulders. She didn’t seem like she was trudging through quicksand.
There was a bracelet on her wrist, a big, chunky thing that completely disguised the bruise I knew was there. She likely didn’t want her grandmother to know that she’d been manhandled the night of the destruction at Vital Greens.
“I should have thought to offer to pick you up from there,” I said. “Does Ernest ever stay home alone?”
“Only when I’m running errands. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t even know I was gone if I did leave him, but I, well, get anxious at the idea of him being alone. So it just makes sense to let my grandmother keep an eye on him.”
“I get that. Especially since he’s never really been on his own. But this works out. You don’t have to worry about rushing home to let him out or feed him. Gives us time.”
“Time to do what?” she asked, wiggling her brows at me.
“Nope. No spoilers. But we should get going,” I said, walking over to open the passenger door for her.
“Can I at least know where we’re going?”
“Miami. Nope, don’t tense up,” I said as she froze when reaching for her seatbelt. “It’s a very relaxing day.”
“Okay. I trust you,” she said, offering me a little smile.
The words were like a knife to the gut, but I forced a smile too.
She was chatty on the drive, telling me about the new designs Traeger was going to work on to replace the old pots, a huge sale she’d gotten for a local brewery, and a bunch of stories about her grandmother and her antics.
When I slowed, then parked, in front of a towering hotel, she turned to me with her brows pinched.
“On your list was staying in a presidential suite,” I said, gesturing toward the hotel before hopping out when the valet came to my side of the car.
“Kylo!” Rue whisper-yelled at me as she climbed out to join me under the porte cochère that protected us from the unyielding sun beating down on us. “A presidential suite is like fifteen grand a night!”
“I pulled some strings,” I said, loving her shock and borderline outrage at the idea of spending that much money on her.
I wrapped an arm around her lower back, hauled her against my side, and led her toward the revolving doors.
“Really, this is too…oh,” she sighed as we moved inside to the marble-drenched floors and walls with the aged bronze chandeliers that cast warm light all around the space.
“Not too shabby, huh?”
“Have you stayed here before?”
“In a normal room, yes. We hit the clubs once and no one wanted to go all the way home, so we rented out several rooms and crashed here. I don’t remember much of that night, though. Except the continental breakfast the next morning. No waxy eggs and packaged bagels. That shit was banging. Of course, I was hungover, so maybe that memory wasn’t super clear.
“We will test out the food, though,” I said as I led her toward the desk. “Since ordering room service is also on the list.”
“Are you sure we can be here now? Isn’t it early for check—”
“Miss Quinn?” a voice interrupted, making us both turn to find a man in a suit standing to the side of the desk.
“Yes?”
“If you will follow me,” he said, gesturing toward a special set of elevators set further away from the other elevator bank.
“My name is Daniel. I will be your personal butler for the day,” he explained, producing a keycard, tapping it to the screen, then leading us into the small elevator.
Taking advantage of the small space, I pulled Rue up against my chest to make room for Daniel.
