Page 19 of For Wrath and Redemption
“There are no two-bedroom suites here, but I’ve called ahead and had the hotel management erect a partition in the middle of the bedroom. The beds are separated, but you’ll have to share the bathroom.”
I glance at Jonah, expecting another outburst, but he gives a curt nod and turns silently toward the door.
“Thanks, Mr. Hammond,” I say as I take my key card from him.
“You can call me Hammond, Ms. Davis.”
I smile. “You can call me Claire.”
With the show seemingly over, everyone starts to head to their rooms. I turn to Jonah, but a squeal of laughter has us both looking back down the hall, where we find Torren embraced by a woman with short red hair. It must be Callie, his girlfriend. My guess is confirmed when they start making out in the hallway, then she tugs him into the room and shuts the door. The whole scene has me wanting to laugh, but when I look back at Jonah, the humor dissipates.
He's glaring at the spot where Torren and Callie just stood, but it’s not just anger I think I see pass over his face. It’s longing, too. Jealousy. Just for a second, and then it’s gone, wiped clean of everything except irritation.
I narrow my eyes at his back while he opens the door to our room and steps inside.
Was I mistaken? Did I imagine the emotions I just saw in Jonah’s expression?
I don’t have time to ruminate on it any longer because my mind goes blank the moment we step into the large, lavish suite. My jaw drops and all I feel is awe. It’s beautiful. Larger than my apartment in Inwood. More stylishly decorated than anything I’ve ever seen before.
“Wow,” I say on an exhale.
Jonah snorts but says nothing as he stomps through the suite and pushes open the door to the bedroom. I follow him into it, and sureenough, there’s a wall of privacy glass set up between two fluffy, full beds. I don’t ask his preference as I throw my purse onto the bed closest to the door, claiming it as my own.
“Is that to make sure I don’t sneak out?”
I turn to Jonah, keeping my face blank as I shrug. “Do I need to be worried about you sneaking out? Are you sixteen now?”
His eyes narrow. “I didn’t need a babysitter when I was sixteen.”
“Hm. Regression, then.” I bat my eyelashes, professionalism waning rapidly with my increasing exhaustion. “I hear that’s normal as you age.”
I know Jonah’s only two years older than me. I learned that fact during my internet search, and while I always knew Conrad had children, it was still a shock to learn his son was my age.
Jonah doesn’t acknowledge my comment. Instead, he disappears behind the opaque glass wall, and I watch as his outline throws itself on the bed. I wonder if he can see my outline as clearly as I see his. Honestly, for privacy glass, it doesn’t feel very private, but I’m too tired to care. It takes all my strength not to fall asleep before the bellhops deliver our suitcases.
“I’m taking a shower, and then I’m going to sleep,” I announce to the room.
Jonahhumphs. All I can hear is indistinguishable chatter from whatever he’s watching on his phone. I dig through my carry-on for my toiletry bag and a pair of my most modest pajamas. Then I head to the bathroom, take a Xanax, and shower for a long time. I imagine the hot water washing the stress from my muscles. Stress that has increased over the last twenty-four hours.
God, it feels like it’s been months. A year. Definitely not a single day.
I want to laugh at how drastically my life has changed since yesterday. Playing the shadow and conscience of an unruly rock star is the last place I’d ever expected to be. It wasn’t even in the realm of possibility; yet, here I am. I drop my head back and let the shower spray on my face, standing there until I start to feel a little dizzy, and then I turn the water off and step out onto the heated bathroom tiles.
I avoid the mirror as I dry and get dressed. My head is in no place to see myself right now, but I do glance around for a scale as I brush myteeth. There isn’t one, but I didn’t think there would be. I’ll check out the fitness center in the morning.
When I walk back into the bedroom, I find Jonah leaning on the wall wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.
“Took you long enough.” He grunts at me, then shoves past and slams the door.
“What a child,” I mumble to myself as I set up my phone charger and crawl into bed. “An absolute baby of a man.”
Then I sigh because this is the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever lain on. I sprawl my hands and feet out like a starfish and snuggle my head into the soft down pillow. Thank God. I’m going to need beds like this if I have to deal with that man-baby every day.
My lips curl into a tiny smile, and they stay like that until the bathroom door opens. I don’t acknowledge Jonah as he crosses the floor. I don’t even open my eyes. I just listen as his feet pad on the soft carpet, his breathing steady and even. The sound of the duvet being tugged down accompanies the sound of his bed shifting under his weight. Then, just as I hear his head hit the pillow, his deep voice rumbles in the darkness.
“If you get lonely tonight, you’re welcome to come over here. I’m told sharing a bed with me is an exhilarating experience.”
His tone is suggestive, approaching seductive, and I frown when goosebumps erupt over my skin in response. I force out a single, tired laugh.
