Chapter Three
A t first, Telfer wasn’t sure why the revelation that Laodice had restored her own car had unnerved him. It wasn’t only that it didn’t mesh with the image of her he’d derived from her romantic ideals and swishy dresses. He’d like to think that he could allow for people to have layers, and interests that lay outside the stereotypes.
No, he realized. It was because after working with her for four years, she still had layers that had been hidden from him. He’d thought he’d known the woman, that he had her measure, and then she’d revealed this obviously important aspect of herself that he’d never suspected. He hadn’t been paying enough attention, and that was unsettling.
He’d then pictured her in a denim jumpsuit open at the throat and her long hair piled up into a jaunty headscarf a la Rosie the Riveter. That was also mildly disconcerting.
Laodice had ordered a cheeseburger and curly fries at the diner bar, instead of heading to one of the booths. He’d taken the hint and eaten his own cobb salad at a table alone, before heading to the convenience store and replenishing his stock of protein bars. It had occurred to him that the food at the retreat was a relative unknown.
Travelling with the top up was less uncomfortable. If he sat up straight, his head did brush the ceiling, but at least wind and bugs weren’t flying into his face. And he’d fixed his hair in the diner bathroom.
“We should go over our stories,” he said, breaking what had been a relatively peaceful silence. “My contact knows we’re going, but he hasn’t let the manager or staff know.”
“Are you sure?” Laodice asked. “It’s not much of a story if we’re marked out for special treatment from the start.”
“I made a bet with him,” Telfer said smugly. “He’d break a promise, but he’d never cheat on a bet. We just need to keep our covers intact.” And if they were treated well anyway and got the story they wanted, he’d owe Brandon a bottle of good whiskey. Winners all around.
“Mm,” Laodice said, sounding doubtful. “Well, I’m registered as Elle Evagora.”
“Okay. I’ll be… Telford Aydem.”
“How did we meet?”
“We should probably stick to the truth as closely as possible,” Telfer said. “So we met four years ago at work.”
“Uh-huh. And instead of tearing down my ideas in your first editorial meeting, you were like, ‘what a cool story, Elle,’ and then we fell in love.”
Telfer frowned. He couldn’t remember many details of his first editorial meeting at Olympus. What stood out in memory was his heightened anxiety and the drive to make a good first impression, to demonstrate his value to Miriam and the senior writers. “We can work at Olympus, but not as journalists. I can work in Finance, and you could be…”
He trailed off. It was oddly impossible to think of Laodice outside of Bridal. She was such an excellent fit. If he became editor, he hoped that she’d stay. He didn’t have any illusions about whether there’d be a place for him in her editorial team, but he was capable of logically assessing the value of an asset.
“I’ll work in Wardrobe,” Laodice decided. “I think I know enough about fashion to fake that, and there are plenty of girls from rich families in that department. I should fit in with the other Halcyon attendees.”
“Penny Laconia hires nepo babies?” Telfer said. He’d thought better of the Head of Wardrobe.
“Penny Laconia recognizes the utility of accepting people who know people and are used to navigating complex social environments, while also having first-hand experience with luxe brands and trends,” Laodice corrected. “Most of them are lovely people, and the ones that can’t hack the pace or take instructions leave. The rest, she teaches. Do you know Diana? She used to be in Wardrobe, and now she’s Hera’s junior assistant.”
Telfer had a vague memory of a pretty blonde behind a glass desk on the top floor. “Yes?”
“Her parents are huge in tech and her trust fund is massive. Her Olympus salary is basically pocket money. She doesn’t need to work at all.”
“So why does she?”
“Because she loves it.” Laodice’s voice was warm. Evidently, this Diana was a friend. “I won’t say that everyone at Olympus is there on merit, but Diana earned her place years ago. I’ll be Diana. Well, Elle. But Diana.”
“All right. We met at work, we dated, and then we decided to get married.”
“What’s our proposal story?”
“I suppose I asked you over dinner. Unless you want to buck the trend of a male partner asking?”
“Over dinner?” Laodice said. “Fine. Okay.”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“Nope. Like you said, probably better to stick close to reality. That sounds like a realistic way for you to propose.”
Telfer had the impression he’d just been insulted. “Did you want one of those big surprise proposals, then?”
“I can’t believe you work in Bridal,” Laodice muttered. Before he could respond she sighed. “No, that’s not fair. You’re good at your job.”
“Thank you?”
“But yeah, Telfer, when I get engaged, I want a special proposal, whether it’s me proposing or the guy. A party with all our friends, or a moonlit walk that turns into a grove lit up by lanterns, or while he’s accepting his second Academy award.”
“The last one’s pretty specific.”
“In that scenario, my future husband is Juan Lopez. He already has one Oscar.”
“Ah,” Telfer said. “I thought—you and Thalia were talking about that baseball game proposal last month.”
“The one where the guy asked the girl in front of thirty thousand people and she said no?”
“Yeah. You said it wasn’t fair for him to put that pressure on her. I agreed.”
“Not out loud, you didn’t. Were you eavesdropping?”
“It’s a relatively small space, and you’re loud.”
“Hey!”
“That wasn’t an insult. It was a statement of fact.”
“Hm,” Laodice said, and sped up to pass a delivery truck. It was full night now, and a huge orange moon was rising to the east, turning the ocean into glittering light. The hills of the Hippocampus were visible ahead, gentle folds around the bay. “All right, yes, I didn’t like that one, and not because it had an unhappy ending. She was obviously taken completely off guard, with all those strangers staring at her. I feel that you only do a proposal like that if you’ve already agreed with your partner that you want to get married and you’d checked that a public proposal would be fun.”
“So… Perhaps that was a discussion we might have had over dinner?”
“All right, fine. You brought up the topic, I agreed that I’d like to get married and then, a few weeks later you whisked me away to a log cabin and proposed formally.”
“Great.” He eyed her unadorned hands, sure on the steering wheel. “Didn’t I get you a ring?”
“Shit! I had a ring ready, but I left it at home. Fucking Eli.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine! People are going to notice if I don’t have a ring.”
“It’s my grandmother’s ring, and we’re having it resized,” Telfer offered. “It’s an emerald marquise with a prong setting, and some diamond accent stones. I’ll send you a photo you can show people.”
Laodice paused. “This is an actual ring you have pictures of?”
“Sure. I upload photos of all my valuables to the cloud, for insurance purposes.” Nene Filiz would have approved of Laodice, he thought. His grandmother had been a spitfire, in her day.
“Oh. Yes. Okay.” She was silent for a moment. “I don’t know if this is going to work, Telfer. Couples have a shared history, shared stories and in-jokes. They know each other.”
“The other couples will be far more interested in themselves than us. Besides, we know each other.”
“Really. What’re my favorite flowers?”
“Orchids,” Telfer said readily
“Huh,” Laodice said. “Lucky guess.”
***
Telfer used his phone to get the last directions to Halcyon, which, it turned out, wasn’t in the Hippocampus proper. The retreat was nearly twenty minutes out of the main center, tucked away near the top of a hill, with an undulating, steep driveway. Laodice’s car managed the turns easily, and he watched her shift in and out of gear with ease, mesmerized by the smooth motion of her hand.
“Nice driving, Elle,” he said, trying the name out.
She smirked. “Thank you, Telford.”
The car headlights showed glimpses of woodlands. A sign announced that they were on private property, but it was another few minutes before they were through the forested area and the building came into view.
Neither the brochure nor Brandon’s gleeful description of the place had properly prepared Telfer for the sight. Laodice was laughing even before she took them through the open, elaborate gates. Above them, Halcyon loomed, built from buttery yellow stone. It was a confection of a fairy-tale castle, with a full complement of turrets, crenellations, and flags fluttering from the central tower, all of it lit up from within and without so that the entire place was a beacon. In that light, he caught a glimpse of formal gardens, with neat hedges and some manicured trees, a complete contrast to the unstifled woodland they’d just driven through. A marble fountain burbled on a smooth green circle of lawn, set in the middle of a cobblestoned courtyard, with its own lights glimmering through the water.
It was, Telfer supposed, very romantic.
“I’m surprised there isn’t a moat,” he muttered, in an attempt to cover his own stunned reaction. Brandon had been smug about the real estate coup that had snagged him this place from the previous owners, and Telfer could understand why.
They parked in the courtyard. Telfer went to retrieve both of their suitcases from the trunk, which he figured was appropriately gallant. Laodice’s case had vintage looking tan straps, but was far too pristine to be anything but new. It was also bright yellow. He looked at his slim black Samsonite and didn’t comment on the contrast.
“Sunshiny,” he said.
“A gift from my sisters,” Laodice said, locking the trunk. “There’s a hatbox that goes with it, but I didn’t want to be gauche.”
“Your sisters, right,” Telfer said. “We should know a bit about each other’s families. I’ve met Xena and Cassie. Let’s pretend they think I’m fine. And you have a younger brother also, don’t you?”
“Iulus. And you…” Laodice paused, and Telfer noted the moment where she realized she didn’t know the first thing about his relations.
“I’m an only child,” Telfer said. “My parents are no longer with us, but assume my uncle Burak adores you.”
“Oh,” Laodice said, and gave him a sympathetic look, presumably for his orphaned state.
Telfer pretended not to see it, and started towards the imposing oak doors. “Quick, your parents, what do they think of me?”
“They’re reserving judgment.”
“Come on.”
“Well, you won points with my mother because of your romantic wood cabin proposal. But my dad doesn’t like you nearly as much as Manny, Cassie’s partner.”
“Competing with the established son-in-law, got it.” It was a still summer night. He could hear piano music drifting out of an open window above them. A few fireflies were hanging above the fountain.
And Laodice was tense as she walked beside him, her bared shoulders tight.
“Hey, Elle,” he said, dropping his voice. “We’ve got this.”
“Right,” Laodice said. She stepped forward, and the door moved smoothly inward. A woman was standing in the doorway in an impeccable black suit and stiletto heels, her dark hair in a glossy bob. From her face, she might have been anywhere from her late 30s to early 50s. Behind her, he could see a hotel-style lobby, with a spiral staircase heading up to the right and doors heading back into the building. To the left was a bar, with a few couples gathered on couches.
“Hello!” the woman said, beaming at them. She was holding a tablet in one hand, but she didn’t consult it. “I’m Sarah Tolna, your hostess, and you must be our last arrivals, Elle and Eli!”
“Oh, there must be some mix up,” Laodice said. “I’m Elle, but there’s no Eli.”
Sarah’s thin eyebrows rose. “Oh? What name do I put down for this handsome gentleman?”
“Hah, thank you,” Telfer said. “I’m—”
“Telfer!” a hearty voice said, and Telfer turned with a sense of doom. He’d been in the place for thirty seconds, and his cover was already blown?
He didn’t immediately recognize the guy making his way towards them from the bar, but something about the chestnut hair and stout build was familiar. The man was about his age, a little shorter, a lot broader…
“It is Telfer Terzi, right? Yeah, it’s the Terz Man!”
“Carrick Balshaw,” Telfer said, the name bursting into his brain. “Haven’t seen you since—”
“Liam’s wedding, right?”
“Right,” Telfer said. Liam’s wedding had been raucous. He had a vague memory of Carrick doing a keg stand in the latter part of the evening, right before he’d decided to leave. “Good to see you, man.”
He felt more than saw Laodice relax behind him and start quietly going through the registration details with Sarah. Her cover was more important anyway, but he couldn’t help being annoyed that Carrick had unmasked him immediately. What were the odds?
“How’s it hanging?” he asked Carrick.
“Good, good!”
Sarah was handing Laodice two ornate iron keys, tied together with a red ribbon, and going over the benefits of their uniquely-decorated suite. No electronic keycards for Halcyon, apparently.
“Do you still work for, um, that magazine place?” Carrick continued.
“Yes, Olympus Inc. I’m in the Finance department.”
“No, we’ll unpack our own cases,” Laodice was telling Sarah.
“Olympus, right!” Carrick said. “Yeah, you liking it?
Formalities completed, Sarah looked as if she were prepared to melt away and let them catch up, but she paused as the famous name caught her attention. Telfer groped for a way to distance himself.
“I’m actually looking for new opportunities at the moment,” he said gruffly.
Which was true, although he was looking for new opportunities at Olympus . Laodice had come up to stand beside him. Without warning, she slipped her hand around his elbow. Telfer fought the urge to startle at the touch, and thought he’d probably succeeded. Wait, was he bad at this?
Carrick’s eyes brightened. “Oh, really? Maybe this is my chance to be your guardian angel. Lots of moves afoot at Argive Holdings. You remember Dammond Argive? He graduated before us but he hung out sometimes.”
“Yes,” Telfer said briefly. For some reason, Laodice’s hand had tightened at the name.
Carrick grinned. “I know, I know, easy break when you can go into the family business, right? But his grandfather’s getting older, and Dammond’s working on some big plans when it’s his time to take over.”
Telfer would have placed bets against Dammond Argive being able to organize a high school reunion, much less a multi-billion-dollar company. He supposed it was possible that the man had grown in the half-decade since Telfer had last seen him.
It was also possible that lightning would strike out of the clear sky and electrocute all of them, but it wasn’t likely.
“I know for a fact he’s seeking out men who can chase opportunities,” Carrick was saying, obviously including himself in that group. “I can put in a good word.” He smiled at Laodice. “Gotta give this lovely lady the honeymoon she deserves, right?”
“You’re too kind,” Laodice said, her voice smooth and a little smoky, as if she actually appreciated Carrick’s clumsy attempt at flirtation. “I’m Elle, by the way, since this one doesn’t have the manners to introduce me.”
“Maybe I don’t want to share you yet,” Telfer said, and Laodice gave him a mocking look, even as Carrick laughed loudly.
“Who could blame him?” he said, and nodded towards the lounging area where other couples were gathered. “I’m Carrick, and my fiancée Britt is over there. The redhead.”
Carrick had always had a weakness for redheads. This Britt wasn’t the slender, bouncy cheerleader type Carrick had gone for in college, however, but a medium-build woman in grey slacks and a white button up shirt. Her hair was in a loose bob, and she was listening calmly to the little brunette who was talking animatedly at her.
“She’s lovely,” Laodice said, and Telfer realized he’d been silent too long. But Laodice’s obvious sincerity covered the gap. “I’m looking forward to meeting her. And everyone else, of course, since we can’t all be lucky enough to know each other.”
“Yeah, come join us!” Carrick said.
“We should—” Telfer said, but when he looked around for their bags they’d been spirited away.
Laodice tugged at his arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s be social.”
Telfer hoped that the clenching in his jaw wasn’t too obvious. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
***
Laodice had a naturally good memory for names and faces, and five years of wedding reporting had honed it to a fine edge. In addition to Britt and Carrick, there were four other couples on the retreat, making twelve guests in total. All but two of them were gathered in the lounge area, enjoying the drinks mixed by the attentive bartender.
Laodice had actually met two of the attendees before. Hazel Verney had been a bridesmaid at the Forrester wedding eighteen months ago, and Xavier Westlake’s brother had married Simon Blair-Aiken about a year before that.
Fortunately, neither of them had looked alarmed when she introduced herself as Elle, and she was pretty sure they wouldn’t have any inconvenient recollections. For most society weddings, she was merely an expected perk, like a designer gown or an elaborate cake. The guests would perhaps notice she was there, maybe give her a quote or two, and then immediately forget she existed.
Hazel’s fiancé Jesse Heller “worked in Wall Street.” Hazel had graduated from Midaeion in spring and was “exploring her options.” Xavier was working at his father’s law firm, and his fiancée, Yvette Long, was a junior partner at the same place. The “we met at work” story she and Telfer had hastily put together was obviously going to pass muster.
The other couple in the lounge were two men, Patrick Orwin and Samuel Donnelly. Patrick looked like a skinny-but-stylish IT nerd in white-framed glasses and a slim-fit cream polo shirt that showed off his dark skin to perception. He turned out to be a landscape designer. It was big, burly, blond Samuel who was the software engineer. Telfer clearly recognized him, and after a few minutes of eavesdropping on their conversation, Laodice realized that Samuel wasn’t merely an IT nerd. Well, he was , but he was also the inventor and owner of Liaison, one of the biggest dating apps of the last decade, and therefore easily a millionaire.
From what she could tell, with the exceptions of Patrick and Telfer, the attendees were all white, and in a fairly tight age range between mid-twenties to late-thirties. No retirees or later in life matches here, and she was willing to bet this was everyone’s first marriage. People planning their second or third weddings, in her experience, tended to be less interested in other people’s input on what they should be doing. She could do some sneaky search engine moves later, but for now she kept them talking, picking up background as they chatted.
Carrick, who kept interjecting comments into the conversation between Telfer and Samuel, had the popped collar and thinning hair of a former frat bro still caught up in his glory days. He worked for Argive Holdings, which Laodice would try not to hold against him. Laodice liked Britt, his fiancée—she was the oldest woman there by a good decade, definitely older than Carrick, and had an observant, amused quality that reminded Laodice of her sister Cassie.
“And what do you do?” she asked Britt. The couples had split into groups along gender lines, which Laodice hoped wasn’t going to be a marker for the rest of their stay. She needed to talk to the men too.
“Oh, this and that,” Britt said. “Did you say you were with Olympus Inc? The magazine publishing house?”
“Yeah, I work in the Wardrobe department?” Laodice said, trying to imitate Diana’s occasional lapses into uptalk. “It’s pretty cool, I guess?”
“It must be interesting to work for Hera Rheczack. I keep seeing profiles of her in various media.”
“She’s awesome. But I don’t see her much, you know? I mostly help out the Head of Wardrobe with styling shoots and pulling pieces.”
“That sounds, like, so amazing,” Hazel said. Her cheeks were flushed, and Laodice wondered how much champagne she’d had. It was hard to tell; Kyle the bartender kept topping up their glasses. Laodice ran a self-diagnostic, and decided she’d better switch to water herself.
“I love your dress, Elle,” Yvette put in. “Ala?a?”
Laodice smoothed the wrinkles in the raspberry pink poplin. She’d meant to change into one of her stealth wealth outfits, not rush into meeting the others in her work clothes. Still, it was a nice dress, made-to-measure by her mother, and the asymmetrical folds were kind of an Ala?a reference. Maybe she could get away with claiming it. Did Ala?a do plus sizes? Then she looked at Yvette’s smooth expression. No. That was a test.
“Actually, it’s a Penny Laconia original,” she said enthusiastically. “The Head of Wardrobe? She’s so cool. She makes something for everyone at the end of their first year with Wardrobe.” This was actually true, although they tended to be fairly simple pieces. Diana had a gorgeous striped wrap skirt she still rotated through her outfit selections, and Xanthe, who was now editor of Luxe , had a black satin shrug on permanent display in her office.
Laodice watched Yvette assess the details on the dress and the close fit on Laodice’s abundant bust, and then run a quick calculation on how much time a very busy, very important woman must have thought worth spending on a gift for Laodice.
Yvette’s smile got several watts shinier, and she leaned in, adjusting her body language to match Laodice’s. “It’s so gorgeous. I wish I could wear that color.”
“Is it hard to work in Wardrobe?” Hazel asked.
“Gosh, not nearly as hard as being a lawyer. What line of law are you in, Yvette?”
Yvette looked self-deprecating. “Properties and trusts, mostly.”
Hazel hiccupped. “So not, like, criminals?”
“No, criminal law’s a different field.” Yvette took a healthy swig from her own glass, and held it out for a top-up as Kyle circled with another bottle and an inquiring expression. Laodice shook her head. Kyle winked at her, then set down another whiskey for Britt.
“I’d be scared, if I had to go into jails and talk to criminals,” Hazel said.
Yvette considered her. “I don’t have to do that.”
Hazel looked mournful. “Jesse said he wanted to go to law school, but then he changed his mind.”
“Why don’t we get you a glass of water?” Yvette said, but Sarah Tolna bustled over to them, her tablet in hand, and stood in front of the bar. Even as she beamed at them, her forehead didn’t move. Perhaps she patronized the same dermatologist as Miriam.
“Hello!” she said. “Hello, and welcome to all of you once again. We’re waiting for the other couple to come down, and then we can officially get started!”
“Who’re the other couple?” Laodice whispered to Britt, who shrugged.
Sarah touched her ear and murmured something to herself, and Laodice took note. Of the staff, she’d only seen Kyle and Sarah so far, but there was at least one other person running herd on the guests, and they were communicating via discreet earbud.
A young dark-haired woman in the same black skirt suit as Sarah, but wearing it with less aplomb, came out of the door behind the bar, holding a red box. At least three staff. Plus housekeeping and kitchens, presumably. She couldn’t imagine Sarah sweating over a stove.
“Ah, here are Alma and Erik now,” Sarah said, and something in her face made Laodice’s spine tingle. She shifted, plastering a friendly smile in place, and felt it freeze on her face as the two latecomers came down the stairs.
Alma was a woman in her late twenties with reddish brown hair piled on top of her head. She was wearing a simple white slip dress and gold sneakers. Laodice noticed that with a tiny part of her mind, because the rest of her was gaping at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
Erik wasn’t particularly tall or muscular—he was about the same height as his fiancée, in fact—but he moved with a sensual promise that made Laodice’s mouth go dry. His finely molded jaw was lightly sprinkled with blond stubble, the same shade as his mop of sun-lightened curls. He was looking at them all with eyes the color of the ocean on a bright summer’s day, his pink mouth quirking.
That mouth .
At that moment, Laodice couldn’t think of anything but what those lips would feel like on hers.
Then her brain kicked back online and her instincts whirred into action. She’d always been observant, good at blending in, but standing apart. Her reaction didn’t matter as much as observing the others.
Britt was smiling, but her hand had tightened around her glass, and Hazel’s mouth had actually fallen open. She couldn’t see Yvette’s face, but she’d gone still. Of the men, Patrick and Samuel were staring, and Jesse was frowning at Hazel. Carrick looked at Erik, and then at Britt. Something moved in his eyes that Laodice couldn’t quite catch. Telfer…was looking at her.
Right. He was also a journalist. He shifted his chin minutely to the side, and Laodice followed his eyes to Sarah.
Who was looking directly at the beautiful man walking towards them. Her smile looked sharp. Predatory.
Laodice stored all of it away to think about later. “Hello,” she said, and stood up to make room for the new couple. “I’m Elle.”
The tension broke in the flurry of introductions that followed, and then Sarah took over again, ordering more drinks and moving everyone around until they were all sitting with their partners, in a semi-circle around Sarah with her back to the bar. Laodice and Telfer had been placed by Alma and Erik, who were holding hands. She slipped her hand into Telfer’s elbow and gave him a doting look.
He looked back at her, somber-eyed, which was irritating. Couldn’t he even try?
“How’s the cheek?” he asked, and Laodice’s hand flew up.
“Ow,” she said, as her fingers made contact with the wound, and then: “Honestly, until you reminded me, I forgot about it.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” Alma said. Her face was ordinary, without much definition or symmetry. Granted, anyone would look plain next to Erik’s perfection. Her voice was beautiful though—a low and smoky contralto, so that even the simple phrase sounded like seduction. “I’m a nurse. Would you like me to take a look at it?”
“That would be great, if you wouldn’t mind,” Laodice said.
“Ahem,” Sarah said, not particularly loudly, but she cut through the chatter that had risen again.
If she didn’t want them to talk, she shouldn’t have given them so much booze, Laodice thought indignantly. The thought was fuzzy around the edges, and she realized that she’d failed to stop Kyle from filling her glass again. Hazel was leaning against Jesse’s arm, squinting to focus.
“Welcome to our happy couples!” Sarah said. “I’m so pleased to welcome you all to the inaugural Halcyon Retreat for Soon-To-Be-Weds!” She was definitely pronouncing the capital letters, laying emphasis on each word. “We’ll start the program tomorrow,” she went on. “But before you go upstairs for a good night’s sleep—or other activities—”
“Woo!” Hazel cheered. Jesse shushed her.
“—I wanted to ensure that you all had the time and mental capacity to focus on the program, and on each other. Danielle, the box, please.”
The younger woman handed her the red box, smiling anxiously, and Sarah set it on the low table in the middle of the group, ceremoniously flicking open the catches. Inside was a padded recess, with twelve narrow slots.
Sarah spread her hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, I will give you five minutes to set your out of office email responses. And then you must surrender your phones.”
Telfer’s arm went rigid under Laodice’s hand. He evidently hadn’t read the fine print. Yvette had, but wasn’t happy about it, muttering something to Xavier when he took their phones forward. Most of the others gave them up with good grace, though Hazel begged permission to take one last selfie with her future hubby. Jesse smiled for the camera and then glared at his oblivious fiancée, who slid her phone into the box with glee.
Laodice added her own, thinking smugly of the burner phone nestled between the bras in her suitcase. Telfer handed his phone in with grim resignation. Alma gave her phone to Erik, and he moved forward, then hesitated.
“I have a laptop,” he said, his voice soft.
Sarah laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly. “That’s all right. There’s no Wi-Fi available to guests, so you won’t be able to get online with it. That’s where most of the distractions are.”
Erik looked over his shoulder at Alma. “No, I mean…can I give you my laptop, too? So I won’t be distracted at all?”
“Oh, honey,” Alma said, smiling tremulously.
“Of course,” Sarah said, sweet as sugar. “I’ll come up and get that later, shall I?” She closed the lid of the box with just as much ceremony, and handed it to Danielle. “Now, you’re all welcome to stay down here and socialize as much as you like, but breakfast is at 6:30 sharp tomorrow.” She wagged her finger at them, mock admonishing. “So don’t stay up all night!” She sashayed through the door behind the bar, and Laodice hoped Sarah wasn’t going to act like this all week. Being patronized was going to get old fast.
Telfer bent to speak into her ear. “I’ll head upstairs now,” he said, and Laodice blinked as his warm breath hit something tingly.
She turned to beam adoringly into his eyes. “I’m going to keep getting background,” she murmured. “I won’t be too long.”
They were nose to nose. Laodice saw Telfer’s eyes drop to her mouth. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Crap, they should have worked out some acceptable PDA rules.
He kissed her forehead instead, a warm brush of lips against skin, and then got to his feet. “Night, folks.”
Laodice held out the keys. “We’re in the Burlesque Fantasy suite,” she said sweetly, and watched his eyes flicker as he took them from her hand. Yes, she’d thought he’d missed that part of Sarah’s introductory spiel.
Hazel grabbed at Laodice’s hand. “Noooo, stay!”
“I’m staying,” Laodice assured her. Hazel looked perplexed, which might mean she was one of those “me and my partner do everything together” people. Or it might mean that Hazel was drunk, and everything was confusing her right now.
“So,” Laodice said, sitting back in the seat, which had a little more room now that Telfer wasn’t pressed against her side. “Xavier, tell me more about you. Where did you go to school?”