**THIS BOOK IS ON HOLD UNTIL I'M DONE WRITING LOVE CONSEQUENCES** Linda Baxter's trust fund makes life easy, but she learned that things in pretty packages are not worth her time. By twenty-nine, she tried marriage, fabricated a fake relationship, a...
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Is she making me wait on purpose, or is this her usual pattern?
The agreed-upon time for Linda and me to meet in the hotel lobby came and went fifteen minutes ago. I wish I got the woman's number, so I can at least text and ask her where the heck she is. I pull up Instagram and find Linda Baxter on the first search.
The photos of her at the gym and the selfie of us she insisted on at the end of the workout confirm I have the right account. A mirror selfie in her white outfit before our lunch is not the last one on her grid. That honor goes to the photo of heels and a black dress lying over a hotel bedcover.
Me: I'm at the lobby.
I send her my number and wait for a DM or a text from an unknown number. Ten minutes later, there are no messages from her. Or her. If I pace any more, the hotel will have a trail in the lobby named after me, because even the tiles can not take this much back-and-forth. I stalk over to the reception area.
The same receptionist who saw me with Linda this morning finishes checking in a man in a business suit. He gets a polite nod. I get a full-on hundred-watt smile.
"Mr. Serov, what can I do for you?"
"Gloria." I did re-check her name tag before my turn. "Could you call Ms. Baxter's room, please?"
"Sure, sir." She dials and waits, throwing glances my way. "She's not picking up. Would you like me to try again?" Gloria would probably offer to go and check in on Linda if I ask, but I don't have the patience for that.
"What's Ms. Baxter's room number?" I check my watch. The closing for the "Ball for Charity" starts in twenty minutes, and I hate being late.
"I—"
"I'm accompanying her to tonight's event." I straighten my already straight bowtie. "What is it?"
"I really am not allowed to—"
"No one but you and I would know, Gloria." I linger on her name and meet her eyes with my you-can-trust-me stare.
