Page 16 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
Me: Checked out early. Going to take some time to sort some things out. I’m fine, I promise. I’ll text every day. Love you xxoo
Then, because I was a chicken, I turned my phone back off. Our bags came onto the conveyor belt first, and the guys plucked them off. A driver waited with a sign, ‘Kenley’ printed across it, and Hendrick went over and spoke to the man in a low voice. There was a tenseness in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before, and when he returned to us, his face was grim.
“I have to go home first. I’ve been summoned.” He looked over at Otto. “Take her to the St. Regis. And to wherever she wants to go. I’ll meet you guys later.” He paused and looked at me. “If we could leave for Europe sooner rather than later, I’d appreciate it.”
I tried not to feel extremely awkward as we slid into a town car, with rear-facing seats and everything. I sat beside Sampson, who was on the phone again, this time booking a room at a hotel.
For me.
“Don’t you all live in New York?”
Otto nodded. “Yep.”
“I don’t need a fancy hotel. I’m pretty sure I could stay at a Motel 6 or something around here.” I looked out the window as we passed a number of budget hotels that surrounded the airport.
Otto gave me a bright smile. “Don’t worry about it, Viva,” he said, adopting Hendrick’s shortening of my name. “Sampson lives at the Regis permanently, so it isn't a big deal. We’ll just get you a room near his.”
We fell silent again and I watched the city through the window. I’d never been to New York City. Tampa was the furthest I’d ever been from home. I even went to college near home. Went home every summer.
New York was insanely busy, but as we crossed into Manhattan, I began to see things I’d only seen on TV, and excitement ran through my veins.
When we pulled up in front of the St. Regis, I gasped. It was beautiful. And I was in leggings and an oversized hoodie. As a woman in a gorgeous dress—the kind that I’d only ever wear to a job interview, or maybe a wedding—walked past and up the stairs, I realized that I did not belong here.
Otto slid out, heading over to talk to the doorman, while Sampson held open the door. He put his hand on my lower back and propelled me up the stairs to the front desk. I stood there, gaping at the beautiful fresco that flowed from the ceiling and down the walls. It was opulent in the extreme.
“This is Aviva Robinson. She’s checking in.”
The woman gave Sampson a tight smile. “Apologies, Mr. Rubio, but we haven’t had her room made up yet. It will only be—”
“She’ll be in my room. Call up when it’s ready and have her things sent straight to her room.”
“Yes, sir.”
God, that must grate. A grown woman having to call Sampson sir, when he was what, twenty-three or twenty-four? Hell, that would drive me nuts.
Sampson ushered me into the elevator, Otto joining us a second later. “Her room isn't ready. We can chill in mine until it is.”
A part of me—probably the remaining sane part—said going to a hotel room with two men I’d known for a sum total of two hours plus a plane flight wasn’t a great idea. But that same part had also warned me that galavanting off to Europe with three strangers—who clearly had enough money to buy off the authorities in whatever country we ended up in—was probably not the safest move.
I’d ignored her then and I’d ignore her now. I was going to give these guys the benefit of the doubt, and if they chopped me up and put me in a barrel to drop into the Hudson river, then so be it.
I could hear Dr. Arubut’s dry voice droning on about risky behavior. At least I didn’t actively want to die anymore—that should count for something.
The doors to the lift opened and we stepped out into a hall, walking toward the door right at the end. Sampson opened it and strode in, not waiting for me to go first. Fair enough, he didn’t seem the chivalrous type.
When I stepped into the room, I gasped. It was beautiful, and also completely impersonal.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Good Girl. Make yourself comfortable. I need to shower.” And then he disappeared into a gleaming marble bathroom.
Holy shit.
Chapter9
Hendrick
The driver pulled up to my family’s brownstone, and I slowly climbed out. Fuck, I hated this house. “Thanks, Reynolds.” I’d left my bag with Otto, just in case shit went bad. And when it came to my family, it always went bad.
I knocked, and the butler opened the door. He was a new one; they never stayed around for long. They came and went. Either my father fired them in a fit of rage because they laid out the wrong tie, or my mother got caught banging them in the pantry.
