Hotel Indigo Read Online Free PDF Page B

of evasion, I more or less figure it out before the bellboy accepts his tip and leaves me alone. I’ve seen this before, though it’s usually when I’m with my brother. Caspian White is a big name these days, and naturally the citizens of Inferno Falls know the tale about the local boy making good. I’m not surprised they figured out who I am, and which relatives of the famous billionaire have come back home.  
    So they’ve given me the poshest suite in the place — and because they can’t insist I take something that triples the already-high rate I’d elected to pay, Kendall assured me (frequently, abundantly) that the upgrade is gratis . I’m not exactly sure how the economics of this work out for them, considering that they make no more money off me this way, but I’m sure they must have a long-term plan. I’ve come at an off time, so this room probably wouldn’t have been booked at full price regardless. The manager must assume I’ll spend more freely on amenities now that I’m here, or hopes I’ll tell my brother about this awesome hotel. Or tell the rich friends they must assume I have by the dozens. Or hell, the press.  
    Regardless of the reason, I find myself wandering the single largest hotel room I’ve ever seen. It has a bigger footprint than my expensive flat on the Bay back home, and two floors. The suite has two bathrooms, both extravagant. Faucets gleam, and the sinks are low porcelain dishes that sit more on top of the counters than down in them. The Jacuzzi is enormous, and the shower is big enough for six people to party in. There’s a full kitchen I’ll never use, a patio that looks out over the lavish pool, and a bedroom with enough extra space for a game of mini-golf.  
    I flop onto the big, poofy couch and wonder where the television is, but then I notice a remote and a curved slot in the floor, and with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me chuckle I realize I can summon a parabolic 4K screen with the push of a button. It’ll rise from below — five feet across if it’s an inch — like a berthing whale.  
    My smile lingers, then fades. The suite is amazing, but it dawns on me that I’m not really comfortable here. I mean, I am — but also not. A strange thing to grapple with.  
    For some reason I feel as though someone is looking over my shoulder.  
    I feel absurd but turn anyway, just to scratch the itch. I don’t see anyone behind me, of course, but even after glancing back I don’t feel as ridiculous as I should. There’s too much space in here. Too many corners for people to hide behind.  
    Why the hell do I feel this way on vacation?  
    Then I hear that deep voice in the back of my head — the furious man downstairs. For some reason, he’s wormed his way beneath my skin. I have no idea who he is, and don’t want to know.  
    Maybe that’s why I’m so uneasy: I’m unsure of which move might invite this man into my life. What if I order room service, and he’s the one who comes to deliver? What if I go out to the pool and he’s skimming leaves or mopping the deck? What if I need help with my key and he’s Kendall’s relief, there to work the desk when she can’t?
    I realize I’ve pulled my phone from my purse. I don’t remember doing so, but now I’m looking right at it, as if my hand has acted on its own.  
    I press the wake button and see my mother’s text message still on the screen, asking about the toaster. Making the first of sure-to-be-many passive-aggressive jabs while I leave her alone, apparently to wither to nothing and die without me.
    Is that what it is? Is my mother on my mind? I look around the luxurious suite, the one I just got done deciding was too big and too empty. Is this really how this week is going to be — me too guilty to enjoy the spoils when they come my way, weirded out by finery instead of allowing myself to enjoy it?  
    I mean, shit … I just sat on a couch that cost more than my first car, and my traitorous hand went for