Page 107 of Unfaithful

"I'm sorry for the confusion. Chrystal is new and she—"

I cut him off, my patience thinning. "It's all right. Just take me to my room, please."

"Right." He nodded. "Please follow me, Mr. Lowe. Is there any luggage?"

"No." I only carried one heavy backpack, and there was no way I would let them handle it. It was dirty and smelled even worse than my jacket.

I followed him to the elevator and frowned again when I saw several people waiting. Oh well. I had no choice but to endure this a little longer. I felt sorry for those people. They were about to be stuck with me in a small space, likely without smell-neutralizing masks to shield their noses.

One of the elevator doors opened, and Mr. Song gestured for me to step in, so I did. To my amazement, people still entered the elevator despite me saturating the air with my unfortunate smell. We were quite a few, actually—six people, including myself.

I leaned my back against the elevator wall. Being very tall, I was at least a head taller than everyone else. I could easily see who was and wasn’t affected by me.

An old lady bowed her head and pinched her nose. Her back was facing me, so she probably thought I wouldn’t notice. Two girls giggled, whispering to each other and stealing glances over their shoulders at me occasionally. A man in a suit standing to my right stared at me intently, probably suspecting I might mug him or something.

Suddenly, Mr. Song's eagerness-to-please voice cut through the silence. He was standing near the door, and I was at the very back of the car. "We already have your suite ready, Mr. Lowe. I was told that you will stay with us for at least a month. Your personal assistant, Henry, has sent your new clothes, already dry-cleaned, and you will find them hung neatly in your wardrobe. I also need to remind you that you have an appointment with our barber tomorrow at ten in the morning, and then after that, your lawyer, Mr. Barnes, requested to have a lunch meeting with you at twelve-thirty."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. You have got to give it to Henry. He successfully convinced someone who worked in a high-level management position in an international chain hotel to be his personal assistant.

"Thank you, Mr. Song." That was all I could say.

But apparently, Mr. Song had not finished yet. "Your father, Mr. Herston Lowe, called me personally this morning." He looked very proud that he had talked directly with my dad over the phone. "He asked me to tell you to call him back the moment you're in the room."

Upon the mention of my father's name, all heads turned to me immediately. My dad used to be a well-known reporter, and until today, his name was still a household name. Disbelieving eyes swallowed me whole, and with my current state of appearance, I wished I could melt and seep into the pores in the wall and crawl directly to my room so that I wouldn't taint the great namesake my dad built over several decades.

Finally, some of these people got off on their respective floors, leaving only me, Mr. Song, and the two giggling girls. Their gazes flickered at me, then quickly looked away when I caught them staring. When the door finally opened onto myfloor and I stepped out of the car with Mr. Song in tow, I faintly heard one of them saying,"What's a filthy stray like that doing in a place like this?"

I walked faster.

Mr. Song jogged around me and halted in front of one door, producing a card key out of his pocket. He opened the door.

The first thing I did when I entered the room was get the laundry bag from the wardrobe, stuff it with my jacket, and then strip the rest of my clothes. My shirt came off first, then my boots, socks, and last, my pants. All went into the bag. Wearing only my underwear, I walked over to Mr. Song, who was gaping in silence like a fish at my strip show, eyes wide at my near-naked indiscretion. "Please throw this away. Or burn them, I don't care. Thank you, Mr. Song."

Then he replied with a stuttered, "Yes, Mr. Lowe," and said something which I effectively tuned out as I headed to the bathroom, stripped away my underwear, threw it into the garbage can, and soaked myself in the shower.

A sigh of relief escaped me the moment the water cascaded over my skin. Alone again, my mind wandered. Straight to Sara.

I hadn't spoken to her since I left, and God, I missed her. I ached to see her, to hear her voice, to know if she was okay. But I had forced myself not to ask Julian, Henry, or even my parents about her. I was terrified that if I did, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from picking up the phone and calling her, or worse... from getting on a plane and showing up at her door.

After my shower, I shaved, changed into fresh clothes, and decided to have dinner outside the hotel. A small bar nearby had the best burgers in town.

As I stepped into the elevator, I was greeted by the same giggling girls from earlier. I nodded, offering a small smile. They didn't recognize me—probably because I'd shaved. Instead of disgust, their giggles now came with blushes and timid smiles. I got that reaction often, though not as much as my younger brother, Julian. Still, the attention never failed to make me uncomfortable.

My phone buzzed. I sighed, pulled it from my coat pocket, and stared at the screen before answering.

"Yes?"

"Archie!" Henry's voice nearly ruptured my eardrum.

"Henry."

"You were supposed to call me and your dad when you landed! Didn't Mr. Song tell you?"

"I forgot." I hadn't. I just didn't want to. My missed calls list already showed many calls from Dad, Mom, and Henry.

"Are you settling in? How's the room?"

"What part of 'simple' did you not get, Henry? This hotel is not simple."

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