“Uh.” I was still dazed. “Thank you.”

He didn’t tell me his name, but he took my small bag and carried it to a flight attendant waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I trailed after him, and as the attendant took the bag, he gave me another professional nod.

“Safe flying, Ms. Bowman.”

Then he was gone, disappearing back inside the hangar.

The attendant waited, a similar smile on her face. She indicated for me to go ahead, and as I did, she put my bag in a compartment.

“Would you like anything in particular to drink or eat before we take off?” she asked.

I shook my head. This was all… I looked around. Private plane. I mean, I knew Cole had been on a private plane, but I didn’t know it was his, and this one must’ve been. Maybe he just chartered it? For some reason, that helped settle my nerves. That made sense.

Still, when we arrived at JFK and I got inside the waiting car, I didn’t ask the attendant or the driver. A part of me didn’t want to know. What would those details indicate about Cole? He looked too young to have all this, but then again, maybe that was what he thought about me? I wasn’t working, and I could afford to live in The Mauricio. It was obvious I had money, but he never questioned me. And why was I even wondering about this?

I was nervous.

My thoughts bounced around, and when the car headed into the city, I crossed my arms over my chest. Deep breath. Maybe a second one. I wanted to calm the knots inside, loosen them up.

When the car pulled over and the driver opened my door, I got out and craned my neck. We were outside a building similar to The Mauricio—all silver colored and made of pure glass. This one stretched much higher than the one I lived in, and it seemed friendlier. Unlike The Mauricio’s door, which was small and almost drab-looking on purpose to help with the exclusivity, this one was a circling glass door.

A doorman approached with the same polite nod and smile as the others. “Ms. Bowman.” He took the bag the driver offered him and gestured toward the doors. “I’ll show you to your room.”

I didn’t know what to expect, but when we went inside, I was still surprised.

It was a hotel. One desk, one worker behind it, and a small fountain in the middle. That was it. The walls were dark with red trim, and the floors were dark marble tile. It gave off a swanky feeling that mingled with anonymity. The doorman passed the desk and led me around the corner to the elevator. He rode with me, pushing the top button on the panel, and I had déjà vu. Cole often came from a higher floor in The Mauricio; it seemed fitting that he had the top floor here.

“Miss.”

The doors opened, and the doorman held an arm out, waiting for me to go first. I stepped out, and he swept behind me, disappearing into a room. A second later, he returned and pressed the button for the elevator again. It opened, he nodded to me a last time, and was whisked away.

Turning around, I found the suite immense and impressive. The living room was a step down in the middle of the room. The kitchen was something I’d seen in a magazine, and there was a veranda. It stretched from the kitchen past the living room and wrapped all the way around. I hadn’t even looked for the bedrooms. I’d just started, heading down the small hallway, when the phone rang.

I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Ms. Bowman?”

“This is.”

“This is Thomas from the front desk. I’m calling to inquire if the room is okay?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Is there anything you’d like brought up for you?”

“No. Thank you, though.”

I was about to hang up when I heard, “One more thing, Ms. Bowman.”

I frowned. “Yeah?”

“I have a message to pass along from Mr. Cole.”

I straightened.

“He sends his apologies that he’s not in the room right now. He’s currently in a meeting and unable to get away. If you’d like, there’s a dress laid out in the master bedroom. Mr. Cole will be arriving shortly and wonders if you’d meet him in a private box at The Octavia? We have staff that will accompany you until he arrives, if you’d like any added direction and guidance.”

“Oh.” This was a little Pretty Woman-esque, but I shrugged. “Sure. When do I have to be ready?”

“Thirty minutes.” That came out in a flat voice, and he hung up right after. So, not Pretty Woman-esque. The guy sound annoyed with me.

I rolled my eyes, but moved to the master bedroom. The dress stopped me in my tracks. It was white, with a translucent covering. I lifted it up, and it looked like something a Greek goddess would wear. I could only imagine having my hair up in braids and a light coating of glitter makeup.

I suppressed a shiver—not a bad one, just one that didn’t feel right to me. This stuff happened to Sia. This was a story she would’ve told me after meeting a brand new boyfriend. This stuff didn’t happen to me.

I laid the dress down and sat. I…I didn’t even know what to think about all of this. Who is Cole?

I sighed and sat back when I heard another phone ringing. This time it was mine, and I searched for it in my bag, which had been placed on the bed next to the dress.

Cole’s name was sprawled across the screen when I found it. “Hey.”

“Hey, are you at the hotel?” He paused one second. “Ken did tell you about coming to New York, right? Are you still in Chicago?”

“No. I’m here. I’m in New York.” I laughed. It felt good to hear the small fear in his voice. I reached over, fingering the dress. The fabric was so soft. I knew I’d never worn something so extravagant. “Cole.”