Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Logan Stone,
Please enjoy this complimentary gift. We are pleased that you’ve chosen the Bellwood Hotel for your second stay in New York.
Don’t hesitate to call with any needs.
-The Bellwood Staff
I haven’t spoken to Logan in a week.
The last I heard from him was the video call where he admitted he was considering doing a nude photoshoot, which I still can’t wrap my mind around.
I got off to the idea of it a few times this week, which I only felt slightly guilty about.
I pull out the pen I keep in my waist apron for labeling shit in the kitchen. I push the card up against the wall and write along the bottom of it:
And if you have any further needs or desires, a member of our kitchen staff will be happy to provide for your needs in a very discreet manner, at no extra cost. Xo
P.S. I’m still a photographer. A very talented one.
My handwriting is way cooler than the stuffy cursive.
I draw the city skyline along the bottom of the card, sketching out two figures under the neon sign across from the Bellwood. I lick the golden underside of the flap, sealing the envelope shut.
It’s frigid in the walk-in cooler. David sent me down here to fetch the tray for delivery up to the VIP Penthouse. The tray is slightly chilled, on a gold cart, ready to be wheeled up to the top floor suite. I’m not one of the staff who typically takes food or drinks up to the hotel rooms, and I don’t even typically know who the guests are in the hotel unless they have restaurant reservations.
I push the golden cart onto the little service elevator that takes me back up into the main kitchen. David’s here on the phone, looking frazzled as usual.
“Thanks for grabbing that, Chase. Ruby should be out in the hall ready to take it upstairs. I’m heading to my one o’clock meeting.”
I give him a little salute. “You got it, boss.”
I push the wine cart out into the main hall and find Ruby, one of the kitchen staff, waiting there on her phone.
“Hey,” I tell her. “I can take this upstairs. You go ahead and take your lunch break.”
Ruby nods. “Sweet,” she says, looking back at her phone and walking off.
I get in the elevator alongside a couple who look like they’re walking mannequins for Louis Vuitton, with all of their bags and jackets sporting the logo.
I make it to the top floor and push the cart out.
I’m not up here often.
Since last year, I’ve tried to avoid it, unless I was taking a break on the rooftop.
I get to his door and knock twice, and it swings open quickly.
And I’m met with a woman who is definitely not Logan.
“Hi, there,” she says, her face bright but unsmiling. “We didn’t order room service, I don’t think?”
I blink at her in silence for a moment.
Holy fuck.
Logan is up here with a beautiful hookup.
A boulder sinks in my chest, and it’s as if I just had the rug pulled out from under me.
“No, no. This is a complimentary gift for Mr. Stone. From the Bellwood. I’m Chase. I work in the restaurant downstairs.”
I reach out to shake her hand.
“Oh, you’re Chase,” she says. “I’m Emily, Logan’s manager. You can come on in and put the cart by the dining table. Sorry it’s such a mess in here.”
Score.
I have absolutely zero claim to Logan, but I still like the idea that he’s at least not fucking a woman right now as I enter his suite.
I wheel the cart inside and see that the suite isn’t a mess in any sense of the word. Emily has a tablet, a phone, and a giant bag down on the table, but that’s about it. She’s peppier than Logan but she looks just as stressed as him, barely glancing at me as she leads me further into the living room, pulling her long hair into a ponytail.
“Do you have access to any of those little desserts they serve downstairs?” she asks. “Those were incredible last year. I did an extra thirty on the treadmill every day because of them.”
“There’s some right here, actually,” I tell her, opening up the portion of the tray with the sweets. “I made them this morning.”
“You make those?” she says, her eyes going wide. “Sinful. Fucking delicious. You’re going to be my downfall.”
I hand her one of them and she pops it in her mouth, her eyes rolling back.
“I’m in love with you,” she says. “Thank you, Chase.”
A breeze moves the curtains along the living room, and I catch a glimpse of the balcony.
Logan is out there.
I see his tan skin in the sunlight as he leans back on a picnic chair outside, eating lunch across the table from three other people. It’s one man and two women, and all of them look just as screen-ready and gorgeous as he does.