Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sunny
I can’t breathe.
That’s the first thought I have as soon as I step into the hotel lobby. It’s like someone slapped a ginormous Surprise! banner over the door and left me to flail around trying to make sense of it all.
Cameras. Lights. People.
It could be a weird reality show nightmare—only it’s real, and it’s happening right now.
It’s way too early for this.
Marjorie’s right next to me, her hand gripping my arm as if I’m about to get swept away by a tidal wave.
Honestly? I might be.
The place has the look of a war zone. No, a festival. And I’m not talking about a cozy, homemade gingerbread kind of festival.
More of an over-the-top, all sparkles, big cameras, and the sound of production assistants shouting “action!” at random intervals kind of festival.
“What is this?” I whisper, barely able to process the madness.
I blink twice, rub my eyes, but when I open them again, it’s still just as crazy.
“I… I don’t know,” Marjorie says, tight with confusion, her eyes darting around. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the lobby like this. It’s… a lot.”
“A lot?” I croak, staring around in horror. “You think?”
She steps away from me, walking up to a cameraman who’s busy adjusting his gear. He’s got that “I’ve been awake for far too long” look on his face, one espresso shot away from a complete meltdown.
Marjorie taps him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” she says, her tone polite but clearly on edge. “What’s going on here? Is this some sort of, I don’t know… filming or something?”
The cameraman looks at her, shocked, he’s just realized a person is standing next to him. He blinks a couple of times, then seems to wake up.
“Oh,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah. It’s, uh, a reality show pilot.”
“A what?” Marjorie asks, clearly not expecting that.
“A reality show. Something about…” He gestures vaguely, as if he’s still trying to make sense of it himself. “I don’t know. The hotel and all that. They’re filming a series about, uh, transforming the place. You know, behind-the-scenes kind of stuff.”
“Transforming the hotel?” Marjorie repeats, full of disbelief.
The cameraman nods. “Yeah, the producer wants to focus on the challenges of running a place like this. There’s some drama, some light conflict, you know how it goes.” He gives a little shrug, as though it’s completely normal to turn a hotel into a reality show.
I can’t help it. I feel my face heat up. “So, like… me?” I blurt.
“Erm… I think the actor guy. The Christmas Prince, or whatever.”
That’s when I see her.
Elaine.
I’m sure Ryder told her she couldn’t come back, but here she is. Standing at the front desk, ignoring everyone of Pearl’s glares, and running the show—but in a way that’s just a tiny bit too overenthusiastic.
Her voice is too loud, her gestures too grand. She’s ready to drop a big reveal any moment now.
“Perfect! Perfect! We’re all set here!” she practically shouts to a poor assistant who’s just trying to make sure the camera isn’t too crooked.
I freeze. She must know this is my hotel, right? I mean, I did meet her here a few weeks ago. But I don’t think she’s the sort of woman who cares.
The last thing I need right now is this… this circus. I was planning on figuring out how to tell Ryder about the babies. You know, in a calm, collected, and totally not disastrous kind of way.
Instead, I’ve walked into a nightmare where reality TV meets the world’s most chaotic morning.
Naturally, my first instinct is to look for an escape route. But where do I go? The cameras are everywhere, and I can practically feel their lens zooming in on my every thought.
The whole telling Ryder thing just got ten times harder. This is not the moment.
“Sunny?” Marjorie breaks through my fog of panic.
She looks over at me, her eyes wide, clearly unsure if she should be more concerned about my stress levels or the bizarre production happening in front of us.
“Marjorie,” I mutter, barely able to focus. “How the hell am I supposed to tell Ryder about the babies in the middle of this?”
She looks at me with sympathy. “Well, you can’t tell him in here, for one.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I mumble, a deer caught in headlights. “You think I didn’t know that?”
Before Marjorie can respond, I hear the unmistakable sound of a yowl. A deep, rumbling, “you’ve made a grave mistake” kind of yowl.
I glance to the side, and sure enough, there she is.
Tinsel.
She’s darting around the lobby, acting as if she’s starring in her own action-packed movie. The camera crew swerves out of her way as she speeds past, weaving between legs and under tables.
“Tinsel!” I shriek, way louder than I intended.
But of course, no one else seems to be paying attention.
“Oh no.”
Marjorie’s eyes widen in horror as she watches the cat streak toward a large Christmas tree in the corner. I can practically hear the naughtiness brewing in her little feline brain.
“No!” I shout, but it’s too late.
Tinsel leaps, claws extended, directly into the tree.
The whole thing wobbles, shaking, on the verge of collapse. I swear I can hear a few ornaments shaking in fear.
“Tinsel!” I yell again, as the poor tree teeters dangerously.
Marjorie darts forward, but she’s not fast enough. One of the lower branches snaps off, sending a flurry of decorations crashing to the floor.
And then, of course, the camera crew starts rolling.
I feel my face flush with embarrassment as Tinsel makes a perfect exit, leaping off the tree and darting toward the back lobby with a victorious look on her furry little face.
“Well,” I say, trying to recover from the disaster that just occurred, “that’s one way to make an entrance.”
Marjorie rubs her temples. “This day is going to be long.”
I hear Ryder’s voice cutting through the noise with that no-nonsense tone of his.
“Mother! This needs to stop! Now!”
I glance toward the front desk, where Ryder is standing, his posture rigid, his jaw set. His fists are clenched at his sides, and his whole body is practically vibrating with barely contained frustration.
He looks about to lose it, and honestly, I don’t blame him.
The cameras are in his face, and Elaine is waving her arms like a conductor leading an orchestra that’s totally offbeat.
“I said, we need to stop this now!” he repeats. “You know I don’t want to do this. I told you when you first brought it up. I don’t even know why you’re back in the hotel.”
But Elaine doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she looks over at him with that insufferable smile of hers. It seems he’s just some background noise to her show.
“Oh, Ryder, darling, you can’t be serious,” she says, dripping with sweetness that I can practically feel down to my bones. “We’re just getting the final establishing shots. Just a few more and it will all be wrapped up… no harm, no foul!”
I swear, if I weren’t so horrified, I’d almost feel bad for Ryder. He’s trying to rein in a whole herd of wild horses, but she’s just not having it.
“Mom,” he growls. “This is not happening. You’re completely disregarding my wishes. You want me to be the star of this, but it will not happen.”
She just waves him off like he’s some stray dog barking at her heels.
“Sweetheart, relax. It’s television! You love this,” Elaine practically purrs, her hands flying up in exaggerated gestures. “The drama’s what sells. Trust me. You’re going to love the results!”
I can’t believe my eyes. How is she this… oblivious? Ryder’s trying to be patient, but it’s obvious he’s on the verge of losing it. I don’t think anyone’s ever told her no in her entire life. Not that she’s heard, anyway.
“Oh, hell no.”
I don’t know who that voice belongs to, but she must be the most composed woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
She stands tall, posture straight as a ruler, with the kind of grace that makes it look effortless. Her dark hair is pulled back in a sleek, no-nonsense ponytail, every strand in place, as if she doesn’t have a single careless hair on her head.
Her eyes are the color of a cold, clear sky. Sharp, calculating, and unblinking, as though she’s already three steps ahead of everyone in the room.
“Mom, you have to end this.” She shakes her head. “You tried it with me and my business, and it didn’t work. Please don’t do it here. No one wants this. Who even are these people? Camera operators you picked up off the street?”
Mom?
Is this Ryder’s sister?
Wow, she looks intimidatingly cool.
Her outfit is dark and impeccably tailored, a black blazer hugging her frame in all the right places, paired with trousers that whisper sophistication.
She radiates control. Even in a room full of people, it feels like she’s the one calling the shots, and I’m suddenly very aware of how out of my depth I am.
Everyone stops what they’re doing. Even Elaine, who’s practically built her empire on chaos, falters as silence floods the room.
Ryder looks almost… relieved, as if he’s just found a life raft in the middle of a storm.
“Elaine,” Claire continues, “this is over. The crew needs to go. Now.”
“This has nothing to do with you, Claire.”
Claire rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Come on, everyone, pack it up.”
She must be a miracle worker.
The camera crew begins to gather their equipment, production assistants scramble to shut things down, and the set that was once full of noise and stress suddenly falls into a strange, almost peaceful silence.
Ryder looks at Claire, a grateful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I owe you one.”
“I know you do,” Claire says dryly, her gaze flicking over to me. “And you’re going to have to find a way to keep Mom out of here.”
“Oh, Claire, this is Sunny.”
Suddenly, the spotlight is back on me, and I don’t quite know what to do with myself.
“Hi,” Claire says with a smile. “Good to meet you.”
“Hey,” I say. “That was… something. I’m, uh, the owner of this hotel… not that you’d know it today.”
She tosses her head back and laughs. “Yeah, Mom has that effect. Don’t worry, she’ll get bored with it all eventually.”
I roll my eyes. “Sooner rather than later, I hope. I already have a gala to throw. I don’t need a reality TV show, I didn’t even agree to on top of that.”
“Mom prefers to ask for forgiveness, rather than permission.”
The tight knot in my chest loosens a little. Claire has this way of making it feel a little less stressful. She’s nice, not as intimidating as she seems.
“Oh, this is my best friend, Marjorie.” I step aside so the two of them can get to know one another, too. Seems I might need as big an emotional circle as possible with Elaine in the midst. “Marjorie, this is Ryder’s sister, Claire.”
Marjorie beams. “Good to meet you.”
Ryder rolls his eyes. “I think we all need a coffee after that disaster. Come on, let’s go to the canteen.”