Hotel Ruby (13 page)

“Hello?” I say, clearing the sleep from my eyes.

“I'm sorry,” a voice says. “I didn't mean to wake you.” At first I don't recognize it, but then Elias laughs. “Hello?” he asks, like I might have fallen back asleep.

I smile instinctively, that goofy sort of smile that I'm glad he can't see. “I'm here,” I respond. “How was your party?”

He hums out his discontent, sounding tired—which makes me imagine him lying in bed just a few floors from where I am now. “Same party every night. But I'd rather not talk about my evening,” he says. “How did you enjoy the rooftop?” His mouth must be close to the receiver; his voice is muffled and scratchy. So damn sexy.

“It was fun,” I say. “Although it got a little weird toward the end.”

“That sounds about right.”

We're both quiet for a moment, and I wonder if he's changed his mind about meeting up. Sure, it's probably 4 a.m., but it's not like I have anywhere to be in the morning. “Elias—” I start to say, but he cuts me off.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “We can raid the kitchen. Hang out for a while.” I think I hear him smile. “See the sunrise.”

“I'm starving,” I say, unable to hide how thrilled I am. “But will I end up getting kicked out? It seems like every time I see you, one of us is being asked to leave.”

“Not tonight. I'll sneak you around, completely undetected. We'll grab what we want and then go eat it in the garden. Avoid the lobby altogether.” I glance toward the window, remembering how dark it was outside. Remembering the memorial.

“It's dark out there,” I say.

“Then we'll eat in my room.” He laughs. “And I promise that's not meant to sound at all lecherous. I'll be a complete gentleman.”

“Your room, huh?” I hope he realizes how attracted I am to him. And I hope his idea of being a gentleman includes a good-night kiss. I reach to grab my cell phone to check the time, but the screen is blank. Dead. Did I check it earlier? “What time is it?” I ask Elias.

“Not sure,” he says. “But if you'd rather, we can do this another night.” His tone softens to an apology, but there's no way I can sleep now.

“I'm not tired anymore,” I say. “Actually, I wasn't tired at all. But Lourdes gave me a muscle relaxer earlier and I—”

“Wait, what?” Elias asks, sounding concerned. “Why would she do that? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I'm . . . fine.” I rotate my shoulder, testing my arm, and the pain is completely gone. Like it was never there at all. I swing my legs off the bed. I get up and straighten my clothes, heading toward the bathroom to clean up a bit. I check my reflection; my cheeks are rosy with sleep, my hair tamed and smooth. I smile. “Now,” I say, hoping he hasn't changed his mind, “what floor is the kitchen on?”

Elias lives on the seventh floor, facing the gardens. The minute he holds open the door of his suite, I can see the breathtaking view out the oversize leaded windows. The trees and shrubs are silhouettes against the dark blue sky, light blue on the horizon. I think it's almost morning.

If we shut off all the lamps, we could watch the sunrise together. I glance back at Elias as he balances a plate on his glass, closing the door slowly so it won't slam shut. We have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, glasses of milk. Who needs champagne and caviar? This is much more romantic to me.

“Your place is nicer than mine,” I say, setting my dish
and glass on his dresser. I take a bite of my sandwich, nodding my appreciation at his fantastic suggestion involving food. I start to wander the suite, admiring all of the finer details. Elias sits on the sofa and immediately takes two bites of his sandwich.

“You didn't eat at the party?” I ask, trying to remember if I'd seen a buffet table the night before.

“I don't like their food.” Elias takes another bite before settling back on the couch and crossing his ankle over his leg. “It all tastes stale to me.”

On the corner desk is a watch, stopped at midnight. The metal is heavy, and I slip it on my wrist and clasp it. I turn to Elias and show him how it dangles and slides up to my elbow. He smiles, looking content as I sort through his things. Looking comfortable with me in his bedroom.

“How do you afford to live here?” I ask, setting down the watch before going back to finish my sandwich. “Your parents?”

“Sort of. My mother paid a lot for this room initially. But because of a family tragedy,” he says, “I'm grandfathered in. They can never kick me out. Even if I don't pay.”

“The fire,” I say, earning a surprised look from him. Before I can explain, he nods.

“Ah, Lourdes spun her tale about the Ruby,” he says. “She likes to embellish. Did she scare you at the fountain? She tries to make it more terrifying each time.”

I take a bite of food, thinking it over. It wasn't exactly scary. “I thought the story was sad,” I state, looking at Elias. “It's sickening what happened to those people.”

“And yet life goes on,” he says quietly, drinking the last of his milk like he's taking a shot of alcohol. “Now what about you, Audrey?” he asks, setting down his glass with a
clink
. “How did you end up at the Ruby?”

“What about the house rules?”

Elias tosses his head back and laughs. “Wow, you fit in amazingly well here.” When he looks at me again, his dimples flash. “I hate that rule,” he says. “We should break it. I won't tell anyone.”

“Our secret?” I ask playfully. “Does that mean you'll tell me your secrets too?”

“If you want.” He pulls the knot on his tie until it loosens, and then yanks it over his head to toss it over the arm of the sofa. Again I'm drawn in by the sight of him, casual yet still elegant.

My pulse races with desire, a little bit of fear. It's hard to catch my breath, and I walk to the window. There's a golden glow on the horizon; a new day. A fresh start.

“I came here with my father and brother,” I say. Moisture has collected on the outside of the window, and I trace a heart on the cool glass. “My mother died,” I say quietly. “She died three months ago, and I didn't know how to handle it, other than badly. I got in trouble and now my dad is sending us to live with our grandmother. This is just
a pit stop before my shiny new life starts. A life I don't even want.”

Elias is quiet long enough for me to turn back to him. His warm eyes have softened, but he doesn't lower his gaze. He looks right at me—sees me. I wait for him to say he's sorry, to offer his condolences, but he doesn't. He seems to know that that's the last thing I want to hear anymore.

“My turn,” I say after the quiet stretches on. “If your family has the money for you to live at the Ruby on a permanent basis, why aren't you in college? Or working the family business?”

Elias smiles nostalgically, flashing his dimples. “I went to college for a bit,” he says. “But my family needed me here. The Ruby thrives on tourism, ghost sightings and extravagance, and I'm a connection to the original anniversary tragedy. Attending parties has become my job. Could be worse, I suppose.”

“You can't do that forever,” I say. “And the good thing with college is that you can always go back. Hell, you can even get a degree online. That's what my brother plans to do. I mean, what's the alternative?”

“The Ruby isn't so bad,” Elias says with a shrug. “Like most things, it's what you make of it.”

“That's very glass-half-full of you.” I shoot him a smile and slowly make my way over to where he sits on the couch. We could have met anywhere—a college campus, some coffee shop in Tempe. But I met him here, and this
place suits him, fits around him rather than him to it.

“You know,” I say, pausing next to the arm of the sofa. “My ex-boyfriend's cousin ran a hotel. His name was Marco and he was kind of a tool, but he said the job was great. He got discounts at other hotels, even in Hawaii. Maybe you can take this place over. The staff would probably love if Kenneth was fired.”

“We all would,” Elias says. He grabs a tin box of mints from the coffee table and clicks open the top. After he places one on his tongue, he holds out the box to me. I thank him and put a mint in my mouth and then drop down next to him on the couch.

I bite down on the candy, and a powdery explosion of cinnamon kills off any residual effects of the peanut butter. Elias is staring toward the window now, lost. For a wild moment I consider reaching for him and kissing him. Deep and passionate. But one thought stops me.

“Sooo . . . ,” I say, drawing his attention. “You and Catherine, huh?” I wait to see how he'll react, but Elias's expression is perfectly unreadable.

“It was a long time ago.”

Well, that was the most frustratingly vague response ever. I tilt my head, looking him over. “She was the girl you were talking about in the sauna,” I say, thinking back on our earlier conversation.

Elias readjusts his position to lay his arm over the back of the sofa, fully facing me. “Yes,” he confirms. “But Catherine
and I were never a good match. Our parents wanted us to date; they had a lot of expectations. The feelings just weren't there between us—although we did hate each other quite passionately for a time. She can be possessive.”

“I gathered that from last night's party. For what it's worth,” I say, “I'm glad it's over between you two.” Elias chuckles like that should be obvious at this point. “But it's not because I don't want to compete with a beautiful, yet vicious, blonde.”

“She is quite a force,” Elias concedes.

“I'm worried about my brother,” I continue. “He's been spending a lot of time with her, and I don't want him to get beat up by the staff or anything.”

“You should tell Daniel to be careful,” Elias says. “Because if anyone's going to hurt him, it'll be Catherine. She has an ugly temper. Do you want me to talk to him?”

I laugh. “No, he'd take that as competition and probably want her more. I'll try. I doubt he'll listen to me, though—he's an idiot when it comes to girls. But if Catherine does anything to him in the next two days, I'm going to kick her ass. Just putting it out there.”

Elias bites down on his lip to hold back his smile. “She should be very afraid,” he says, running his gaze over my scrawny arms. He rests his head on the cushion, staring over at me.

“You look out for him,” he says admiringly. “You must be very close with your family.”

The comment hurts my heart. Up until three months ago the answer would have been an automatic yes. But Daniel and I have stopped talking about the important things. My father and I hardly talk at all. I'm not sure how we messed up so badly.

I blink quickly to prevent the tears from forming. “There was this one time,” I say, staring past Elias, “when I was sitting on the roof outside of my bedroom. It wasn't a sunrise”—I motion to the scene outside the window—“but it was a sunset. My mother had taken Daniel out to buy new school clothes, and I didn't want to go. After they left, I climbed out my window.

“When my father came home from work, he panicked because he couldn't find me. Eventually he poked his head outside my window and saw me perched at the base of the steep slope. I was thirteen, and thought I was in love.”

Elias sniffs a laugh, and I flash him an embarrassed smile.

“Turns out, so did my friend Kieran,” I continue. “She kissed my boyfriend at the buses in front of everyone. I felt betrayed, humiliated. In hindsight, Aaron and I had zero in common, but at the time it was huge.”

“Infidelity can wreak havoc on your life,” Elias says, more seriously than necessary for a story about a girl and her first boyfriend.

“My father's initial reaction was to call both Aaron and Kieran to tell them off, but I stopped him from making
things worse. And then he told me that I deserved better. That I deserved the best. He put his arm around me and said, ‘Kid, you're going to get everything you want out of life. Once you get past the parts that suck.' ” I stop, sniffling and shaking my head to keep back the emotions. It's been so long since I thought about my dad—my real dad. The one who loved me before Mom died. I don't always remember he existed.

“Here,” Elias says, taking my hand to gently tug me forward. I rest my cheek on the collar of his shirt, breathing in the clean, crisp smell of him. Like my mother's detergent. Like home. “I understand grief better than you can imagine,” he whispers, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Sometimes the beautiful memories are the saddest ones of all.”

I slide my palm onto his chest and find his heart racing. It draws me from my misery, offering me validation. Excitement. Elias wraps his arms around me, and I close my eyes, absorbing the feel of him. The heat of his body. I run my hand up to his collar, playing with the top button of his shirt, listening to how his breathing changes. His arms tighten, and I shift so my lips graze his neck. His jaw. I let my sadness fall away. Let the world fall away.