Chapter Twenty Six - Part One

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Charlie

I stay longer than necessary in Maxwell's room. The tension is thick between us and I can't quite make eye contact with him. Was it his fault? No. Does it still hurt? Yes.

"I have to go to work." The words rush out of mouth as I exit his room and race to the door.

My hand lingers on the knob as his voice sounds from right behind me. "Are you forgetting something?" he asks.

My arm grazes his chest as I turn around to face him. My eyes only go as high as his mouth, which has a small sheepish smile. He expects a kiss like the other day, but I can't. Pitifully, my feelings are still hurt.

He gently grabs my hand and places my keys in my palm. "I'll be waiting for you get back."

I leave without a word said, head hanging with shame from my bitterness. Not paying much attention, I carelessly round the corner. Face first I smack into an oncoming body. "I'm so sorry." I immediately start to apologize.

"The fault is partially mine," the woman replies.

"It's quite all right." I flip the hair out of my eyes.

"Ms. Preston? Charlie, right?"

"Yes."

"You don't remember me, do you? Daisy from the Liberty Hotel. You had a party there about a month ago."

After making eye contact with her for the first time, I do recall who she is. The hovering blonde who showed Morgan and I the ballroom for Justice's birthday party. "Oh, yes. Yes, I remember. Nice to see you again, Daisy."

"What brings you to this lovely hotel?" she asks, her interest piqued.

"Meeting with a client before heading into the office. I'm running late. I really should get going."

"I would love to sit down and chat sometime. Your job must be to die for."

I dig out a business card from my purse. "You know where to find me."

She gives me a quick smile before retreating down the hall.

I can't make the car ride any shorter due to traffic and half glad, half nervous to see Morgan. I glance down at the white bandage that still wraps my arm and think about how I'm going to explain it. My face didn't take a beating in the fight last night, but this warm weather forces me to wear short sleeves demanding for the wound to be center of attention.

"Good morning," Morgan sings as I enter the building. Her eyes instantly go to the stark white bandage as I knew they would. "Oh my goodness, what happened to you?" The tips of her fingers graze the thick gauze wrappings.

"Nothing important." I don't want to concern her and I'm still not sure how I would explain the situation either, so I talk about something else. "I'm sorry I'm late. I ran into the most unexpected person. She's even interested in sitting down and talking sometime, which I hope doesn't happen. I mean, I've only seen the woman once and she seems like a snob...kind of." Who am I judge?

"Who?"

"Daisy. She's the woman from—"

Morgan speaks over me, "I know where she's from and it wouldn't be the second time I saw her if I were to run into her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I didn't tell you this for a reason, but I've met her before seeing her at the Liberty Hotel."

The tension that fills the room is thick. Her awkward posture and lack of eye contact makes what she's about to say even worse. What is she hiding? "Morgan, where else have you seen her?"

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