I loved it—the air on my skin and the wind that tugged at my braid, how my thighs fit to his, and the way it felt to hold him this tight—but, most important, I loved how, whenever we stopped, he reached down and rubbed my knee or squeezed it.

Also, the fact that we weren’t walking.

I really loved that, too.

Zayne was able to snatch a spot down the road from the massive hotel, which took up nearly an entire block and looked like it had been transported from France.

“The hotel is beautiful,” I said as we walked down the sidewalk.

“And it’s old. I think it was originally built in the 1800s.” He kept a hand on my lower back as he guided me around a cluster of tourists snapping pictures of the tiny gargoyles and water spouts that were carved under many of the windows.

I sighed. “This place is going to be so haunted.”

He chuckled. “Just ignore them until we’re done.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered.

“He’s here,” Zayne said when we neared the entrance.

Under a blue awning stood Cayman, and I wouldn’t have recognized him if it hadn’t been for Zayne. He was dressed in a black suit—an expensive-looking black suit—and loafers. Actual leather loathers. His dark hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and when he saw us, he raised black brows.

“You look nice,” I told him.

“I thought I’d dress the part.” He glanced over us. “Obviously you two did not.”

I looked down at my black leggings and gray T-shirt. Zayne was in leathers, and I guessed we probably should’ve thought about how we’d fit in. Or not.

“We’re not here to walk a runway,” Zayne commented.

“But if you did, I’d pay for front-row tickets,” Cayman quipped, and I grinned. “You two ready?”

When Zayne nodded, Cayman stepped aside and opened one of the heavy doors. Cool air rushed out, beating back the heat. Inside, I knew at once I was going to need to keep my sunglasses on. I was overwhelmed by the dazzling bright lights from the crystal chandeliers, and the grandeur of the palatial lobby. I’d seen some expensive artwork and designs before—Lord only knew how much the Great Hall back in the community had cost—but this was insane. Everything seemed to be made of marble or gold, and I had the sudden urge to run back outside and wipe off my feet.

“Wait here,” Cayman said. “I need to get us a key to the floor.”

Cayman sauntered up to the registration desk and leaned in, catching a young man’s attention. I had no idea what he said, but within a minute, he came back to us with a hotel key card jutting from between two fingers.

“That was fast,” I commented.