Page 5 of The Princess and the Pizza Man

“Uh… you got an elevator?”

Winter blinked, let her eyes swivel to all the luggage they were carrying, and then laughed. “Yes, sorry. My brain is on a bit of a delay today.”

“That’s a’right.” He smirked, surprised that a person so used to luxury still thought of taking the stairs before an elevator.

Maybelle of course seemed right at home among all the expensive décor and marble floors. Her heels clacked away, echoing off the walls and throughout the entryway. Will would be surprised if it didn’t bring out more of the staff.

The man with them pressed a button that blended with the wall so well, Will hadn’t even noticed it. Winter bounced on her heels, like she didn’t know how to stand still. Will swore he heard her humming something as well. Her eyes studied Bells, lingering on her left hand. Will’s brow furrowed; Bells was too busy admiring the place to make conversation, and it was suddenly too hot in all the layers he was wearing.

The elevator dinged open, and Winter held the door while Will and the security guy maneuvered their luggage in.

“Bells, I swear…” He laughed as he squeezed bag number four inside, the doors nearly crushing it. She gave him a look that told him to shut right up, and he supposed she had a point. The two main quibbles they’d had during their forever-hour-drive was about her packing and his aversion to cold weather.

Winter swept her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder—well, the half that was done—and mashed in the button for the fifth floor.

“No music,” he mused. The man tilted an eyebrow, and Bells nodded, probably only half-paying attention. The elevator had a mirror for a ceiling, and she was haphazardly fixing her red curls. Winter nudged him in the shoulder.

“We’re frugal around here, can’t you tell? Music just isn’t in our budget.”

He smirked. At least she had a sense of humor about her millions.

The doors opened, and voices filled the hallway. Bells scurried out of there, leaving the rest of them with the luggage… of course.

But Winter and the other man were helpful, each plucking up a suitcase and rolling it into the hallway. “What’s the last name?” Winter asked over her shoulder, leading them past an open sitting area, complete with a giant projector screen and popcorn machine. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here…

“Monroe,” Maybelle answered.

“Perfect, you’re right up here.” Winter bounced her way in front of them, making a left, a right, and another left.

How many rooms did the place have?

Will could feel his fingers getting numb, and when Winter finally stopped in front of a pair of hand carved wooden doors, a wave of relief fell over him. Bells enthusiastically took the keys and clicked them into the room. She disappeared inside before Will could even get a good look around.

“Thank you,” he said, holding back a laugh at Winter’s big eyes at his over-excited sister.

“Yep!” she said, pulling her eyes away from Bells. “Feel free to explore after you’re settled. Opening dinner is at seven. And let me know if you need anything.” She dropped her voice, leaning in and up on her toes to reach his ear. He bent to help her out. “Sorry about the double room. It was the only one left, but if anything opens up, I can get you into one for yourself. Free of charge. If you want…”

He took a peek inside the suite, the thing big enough to fit not only his pizza shop inside, but the shop next door as well. “I think we’ll be okay,” he said with a chuckle. Did this woman not realize what normal people lived in?

She nodded and then rolled the suitcase just inside the door. Will waited until they’d left before he shut the door, crossing his arms.

“Good grief, Bells. How much you spend on this?”

“A journey for love should have no limit!” he heard from the bathroom. He let the duffel on his shoulder drop to the gray and blue rug under his feet and made his way to the fireplace. The thing came up to his shoulder and was probably about six or seven feet wide. He flipped the switch on, the faux blue flames coming to life.

The mansion had a fresh linen scent, almost like he’d slipped between a laundered set of bed sheets. He wrinkled his nose, missing the comfortable smell of his pizza shop—pepperoni and mozzarella. His gut dipped with the thought of Penelope, waiting at the counter and not finding his face in the crowd. He never thought he’d be one to get homesick, but then again, he’d never really been away from home.

---