11. Naina
Chapter Eleven
NAINA
The black Escalade rolled up in front of the hotel at 6pm. I glanced out the tinted window of the backseat and the opulence I saw made me a nervous wreck. My hands shook and I balled them into fists.
I was really doing this. I was going to marry Kash Sutherland. My stomach churned at the thought.
Was I making a huge mistake? From where I stood, I was gaining a lot more than he was. Unless he wasn’t telling me everything.
The driver, who had introduced himself as Grayson, got out of the car and opened Sami’s door. My sister turned to me.
“Is it too late to back out?” she whispered.
It became too late to back out when the money was deposited into my bank account this afternoon.
“We can make a run for it,” I said, half-joking.
Sami’s sardonic smile told me she knew that was never going to happen. I wasn’t one to back out on my commitments, and I’d agreed to do this.
I followed Samira out of the car and Grayson nodded at me.
“I’ll be around if you need to go anywhere, Ms. Hollister,” he said.
He was a stoic man, his dark hair shot through with a bit of gray. He could have been anywhere from his thirties to fifties, and no one would know. His face had that ageless quality about it. He must have a really good skincare routine.
“Thank you, Grayson.”
“Ms. Hollister?”
I turned to find a tall, Black man standing behind me. He was well-dressed in a dark, tailored suit and his shoes were so polished the lights reflected off of them.
“I’m Martin Ajibwe, the hotel manager,” he introduced himself.
I shook his hand as Mr. Ajibwe explained that Mr. Sutherland’s assistant had called ahead and booked a suite for Samira and me. If we needed anything, we should call him directly, no matter the hour. Mr. Sutherland’s assistant was very clear that we were important guests.
I hadn’t heard anything from ‘Mr. Sutherland’ since earlier this afternoon when he messaged to let me know that Grayson was outside the Windfield and will drive us to San Francisco. It was nice to know he hadn’t forgotten us. It eased the knots in my stomach just a little.
Briefly, I wondered what Grayson and Mr. Ajibwe thought I was to Kash, for him to do all this.
An attendant grabbed our luggage, which was only two small suitcases. And then we were led into the bright, expensive interior of the hotel. As we walked through the marble tiled lobby, I couldn’t resist peeking at the few guests in the lobby. They had that quiet, expensive quality about them—sleek hair, smooth features, expensive clothes.
Without a doubt, I couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel like this in my lifetime. Maybe if I had kept my job at my old law firm and worked really hard. Definitely not now.
Dad had hated chain hotels. He liked the uniqueness of small boutique inns and hotels. He always said that we were building a relationship with our clients rather than bowing down to capitalism.
As my eyes met Sami’s wide ones, I could tell she was having the same thought.
“I hope your drive from Carmel went well,” Mr. Ajibwe said.
“It went by faster than expected.”
He nodded politely and called the elevator. We were whisked up to the thirtieth floor where the elevator opened directly onto a suite.
“There’s a key required to access this floor and there’s a button which allows you to open the elevator for guests,” Mr. Ajibwe explained. “The emergency exit is through there. Would you like me to show you around?”
“No,” Samira said, quickly. “It was a long drive and we wanted to relax. Right, Naina?”
“Yes, thank you so much, Mr. Ajibwe.”
“Alright, then. Please, don’t hesitate to call me for anything. I will leave my card and your keys right here. Good night.”
Placing the keys and his card on the entry table, he turned and left with the attendant. In the sudden silence of the room, Samira turned to me, her jaw slack.
“What. The. Fuck.”
“Sami,” I chided.
“I’m sorry, but do you see this place?” She walked into the center of the suite. “It’s bigger than our entire house!”
That last part she said loudly, her tone incredulous.
I moved farther into the room. The suite was decorated in black, white, and chrome. The furniture had a modern but comfortable look. Black and white checkered tiles covered the floor. The wall across from me was made entirely of floor to ceiling windows. Beyond them, the sky burned the blue of dusk, the lights of downtown San Francisco just starting to come on.
I walked to the windows and looked down. Everything looked so small.
“Oh my god, didi, you have to see this bathtub!”
I turned to see Samira running out of a room.
“It’s huge!”
She ran down a hall and I heard more excited exclamations, and then, “Oh, I guess this is your room.”
Taking a breath and pasting on a smile, I followed the sound of Sami’s voice down the hall and to an open door.
The bedroom was huge, a King-sized bed took up most of the space in the center of the room. The headboard was glossy black, the coverlet sparkling white. A black velvet chair and small table were placed by the large windows and there were two closed black doors.
On the nightstand rested a large vase of flowers with a bottle of expensive champagne. On the small table, there was a gift basket of French and Belgium chocolates.
“Oh my god.”
Samira had opened another door. I peeked inside to find a blinding white bathroom. The countertop was covered in bottles of designer perfume, every makeup item known to man, expensive tubs of moisturizers, bubble bath, hair care and styling products. Half the product names were in French or in other languages I couldn’t understand in a glimpse.
“By the way, I checked and none of this is in my room,” Samira announced. “Kash Sutherland clearly doesn’t play around.”
My eyes lifted and I found myself looking in the mirror, my face pale and drawn.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said, before promptly running to the toilet and throwing up.