At Your Service by Jen Malone

Author:Jen Malone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

Chapter Eighteen

The Plaza Hotel is what everyone imagines when they think of a fancy New York City hotel. Partly because of the Eloise books, and partly because it’s always showing up in movies.

Of course I might be biased, but I think the St. Michèle is way, way better. Though I will say this, the Plaza has us beaten hands down in one category: location, location, location. The St. Michèle is only a couple blocks from Central Park on the Upper West Side, but the Plaza is right on top of it. Plus it has all this cool history—like it’s an actual National Historic Landmark and the Beatles stayed there once. But who cares? We have rock stars as guests too. And kings and queens now. So there! Obviously, you’ll never get me to be disloyal to my own hotel.

I come to an abrupt stop as we stand in front of the entrance. The Pulitzer Fountain is to our backs and behind that, across the street, is the Apple Store. I hope we’re far enough away that Frans and Hans can’t spot us if they’re still there. Ahead of us are red-carpeted steps and lots of polished brass.

“Let me hide between you guys,” I say.

“Pardon?” asks Sophie.

“The concierge here knows me. He’d ask a bunch of questions and probably call my dad. Hopefully, he’s not even working today, but just in case, block me with your body.”

Alex gives me an amused look out of the corner of his eye. My heart gives a little squeeze, and immediately I’m totally disgusted with it, because, Hell-ooo, heart? We’re annoyed with him, remember? Plus, we’re supposed to be worrying about a missing girl here, not falling apart at looks from her conceited brother who thinks he’s in charge.

“Just do it, okay?” Luckily, Pay slides right into place at my side. Love that girl.

Sophie stands close on the other side of me, but not too close. Alex takes command (of course!) and steps out front. His tall body blocks mine completely. Except now I’m only an inch from his back and I can smell his boy scent. It’s not a boy smell like gym socks and day-old cheese either. More like root beer and dryer sheets.

Focus, Chloe. He probably bottles that scent and rolls around in it just to have this effect on girls.

We shuffle inside. It’s pretty awkward trying to walk like this. We go up the carpeted steps and through the glass revolving doors guarded by a doorman. If he thinks it’s totally weird that we’re moving like our legs are tied together, he doesn’t comment. We enter the ornate lobby. Seriously. It looks like a museum or a villa in Rome or something, with the marbled floors and velvet-curtained windows so tall that even if all four of us stood on each other’s shoulders, the person on top probably still couldn’t see out the highest pane. Enormous crystal chandeliers hang from the golden ceilings. A wide staircase curls up to a second floor, but we move away from that and toward the check-in desk beside it.

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