Page 29 of His Bride Bargain
The atrium of the hotel is as lavish as the outside: polished white floors and gold trim on the walls. Decorative pillars stand guard next to the reception desk, and the woman sitting there is equally as glamorous, her hair coiled on top of her head and hair-sprayed firmly in place, her makeup so pristine it looks like a professional has done it, and her clothes so crisp they might as well have been ironed onto her.
I’m starting to wish I’d brought better shoes than sandals and sneakers.
Aiden overtakes me to check us in, and I follow, happy to let him take the lead on it. I’m still too busy looking around in awe. There’s a whole waterfall in one of the walls. Why?
Before I can really start worrying about the water usage, a woman in a long and flowing green dress with long, loosely braided hair drifts up to us. “Hi!” she says in such an overly sweet way I’d think she was joking if her broad smile wasn’t completely sincere.
“Hello?” I say, confused as to why she’s approached me.
She takes my hand and shakes it generously with both of hers. Looking closer, I notice that her necklaces are made of shells and feathers, as are her dangling earrings. Her lips shine with pink gloss, and a constellation of freckles dust her cheeks. She’s a striking woman, gorgeous in that kind of earthy way. I can so imagine her hugging a tree unironically.
“My name is Juniper,” she says, beaming. “But you and Mr. Handsome can call me June.”
“Mr.— what?” I sputter.
“He’s such a cutie!” she says, carrying on like she’s oblivious to my horror. She touches me on the shoulder and continues, “You’re so lucky.”
I blink dumbly at her. Surely she can’t think…?
“You think we’re together?” I ask, eyes narrowing in suspicion as hers grow wider in realization.
“You’re not? Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. I shouldn’t have assumed. Most people who take my weekend program are lovers.” She puts such an emphasis on the wordloversthat I get the impression she knows something I don’t. If Aiden has told them something untrue, I swear I’m going to kill him.
Fortunately, he saves me from any more of June’s saccharine platitudes by turning round and holding up a room key between his fingers. “For you, madam,” he says, offering it to me.
“Thank you,” I say, taking it and slipping it into my backpack.
June claps her hands together, flinging her mane of hair over her shoulder. “Wonderful. I’m sure you’re both ready to get going with everything, so if you leave your bags here, I’ll get Manuel to take them through to your room. He’ssucha darling.”
We obey, dumping our bags by the desk. As June turns on her heel, beckoning us to follow, I lean in and hiss into Aiden’s ear, “Room —singular?”
He shrugs apologetically. “It was the best I could do on short notice. It’s a king bed, if that helps?”
“It doesn’t.”
He hesitates like he has something to add but isn’t sure if he should say it, but then does anyway, probably more tersely than he means to. “Well, if we’re going to be engaged by the end of the weekend, you should probably be able to stand being in the same bed as me, or room at least.”
I open my mouth to snap a hotheaded reply, but June interrupts before the argument can bloom. “Come on, folks. We’ve got so much to explore!”
Aiden looks at me with pleading eyes, and I glare, straightening up and marching after June. This is all way too much to deal with. But one thing I am absolutely resolute about: I amnotgoing to enjoy myself. Not even a tiny, tiny bit.
CHAPTER20
AIDEN
As June leads us through the hotel, it’s like we’re following a minotaur through a maze. All the corridors look the same except for various different yet generic photos of tropical vistas and fruit on blurred backgrounds. It’s nice, but for the price tag I’d expect not to see fraying edges on the carpets.
June is babbling on about the oasis, telling us all about its history, how it used to be a vital stopping point for travelers and fortune seekers and how so many people died out in the plains and blah, blah, blah.
Is it bad that I really don’t care about anything except Candice?
I should probably pretend to be making an effort, but Candice at least is nodding along and asking the occasional question, which I can kind of make noises to so I sound like I’m paying attention. It’s hard when Candice is wearing a dress that shows off her legs and shoulders, and as I walk behind her I can’t help looking. It’s not my fault she cuts such a perfect silhouette.
We take a sharp left turn and find ourselves in a small, dimly lit conference room. But unlike any other conference room I’ve ever seen, there are no chairs or tables, just a wide circle of cushions on the floor and some red candles that definitely should not have been left unattended. We’re also greeted by the heady smell of incense or perfume, an intense, fake floral scent. It’s so strong that it stings my eyes, and I have to resist the urge to cough.
It’s obvious which cushion in the circle is June’s — it’s surrounded by papers, cards and dice. My heart sinks at the realization that she’s probably going to try and tell our fortunes or something.
Candice is not going to enjoy this.