Dominic straightens up, shoving wires back into his pants. ‘Seriously? Even Jonas can’t move that fast…’ Now there’s a chime, like whoever’s outside forgot they could just ring the bell. ‘Where in God’s name are my shoes…’ He stands, smoothing down his hair. Another chime, another curse as he shoves a foot into the wrong shoe. 24

‘Maybe it’s room service? Or housekeeping?’

I cough, trying to hide the note of panic. We didn’t request anything special. Just a suite. We’re here on business, we said. Like we’ve been saying all day.

‘I don’t recall asking for extra pillows when I demanded the penthouse, do you?’

The doorbell chimes again. Whoever it is knows we’re in here else they’d give up.

‘Do we have to answer it?’ Dominic mumbles to himself. ‘Wait…’ He kicks off his shoes again. ‘Take yours off too, can you? Rumple yourself up, mess up your hair … Quick! At least make it look like we might have been interrupted…’ He fades as I turn back to the window, willing that a car might explode below us, anything to change the course of the next few seconds.

‘Yes?’ Dominic’s voice floats, somewhere behind me. I squint into the glass, inside of the room outlined back at me. He’s up against the door.

‘Sir?’ The doorbell chimes again.

‘Yes? Can I help you?’ Sir. It can’t be them. I lean my head on the glass. Suddenly my neck feels like even holding my head up might make it snap.

‘If you could just—’

‘Hang on, hang on…’ he interrupts, reflection fidgeting and bustling behind the door. I sidestep along the wall, out of vision. There’s a squeak as the door cracks open, a rustle of voices. Dominic’s? And then another click. The window stares back at me, blank-white with early-spring sky.

‘The Wi-Fi password…’ Dominic hisses, exhaling all his tension into the room. ‘They forgot to give it to us. Jesus wept … he even apologised, since we’re in one of their alleged SuperRooms … Hah!’

I twist round to find him flat on the bed again, clutching a bottle of wine in one hand, slip of paper in the other. Now he won’t even notice that I didn’t rumple myself up.

‘Why didn’t he just call? Why come all the way upstairs?’25

‘Because he also wanted to give us this,’ he says, sitting up, brandishing the bottle like a weapon. ‘Gift, apparently. Hang on…’ He squints at the tag round the neck. ‘“Congratulations”. Congratulations? Marie, what the fuck are you doing?’

I’m at the door before I even realised I’ve moved, clicking the inside lock, latching the chain.

‘It’s on our purchase,’ I say. ‘Congratulations. We haven’t sealed the deal yet, have we? They want us to know they’re still watching…’