What Happened in Vegas: A Laugh out loud Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Platonically Complicated Book 7) by Mika Jolie

Author:Mika Jolie [Jolie, Mika]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-07T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 9

#LetMeShowYouWhatYouMissedOutOn

The next thing I know, the guy is actually getting on the phone and contacting someone—the cops or the FBI—about me and my evident transgressions.

And I’m not even kidding when I say that I’m starting to get truly pissed off. Look, I’m a nice southern girl. I learned manners before I learned how to walk, and I’ve been raised in the sort of genteel, sweet-tea-drinking sort of world that only exists in areas of the south that have maintained the traditions and the values of our ancestors.

I’m not talking cotton plantations and horrible social practices, either. I’m talking calling everyone ‘sweetie’ and making sure you always have clean gloves to wear to church on Sunday.

So yeah, I have that in my box of tools. But I was also raised by a freaking strong woman who didn’t believe in being taken advantage of. And she made sure I had that in my toolbox as well.

Which means I’m gearing up to start actually spitting anger at this guy, my shoulders straightening and my chin coming up, and though I know it’s probably the wrong thing to do—and that it’s most likely not going to solve anything—I physically can’t stop myself. I’m too frustrated, too horrified at what he’s trying to imply. And I know for a God damned fact that I’m not going to stand for it.

I’m just starting to put breath to my voice, my first line already becoming clear in my head, when a strong firm hand comes down on my shoulder.

I jump and whirl around, about ready to lay into whoever the hell is trying to interrupt me, when I spot Griff standing there, all charcoal gray suit and matching tie, his hair gelled into place, his face looking completely neutral. His eyes, though. His eyes are flashing, and when I look a bit closer, I notice that his mouth is actually tense at the corners, like he’s angry at something.

“Frederick, you’re not bothering this nice lady, are you?” he asks tersely. “You know your job is to let occupants in, not keep them standing on the sidewalk.”

He lightens this statement with an attempt at a smile, but even an idiot would be able to see that he’s forcing it.

Frederick—the doorman’s name, evidently—looks up at Griff and seems to go a shade paler. “Mr. Hunt,” he says, his voice sort of wobbly. He takes the phone away from his ear and covers the mouthpiece. “I’m sorry for the disruption, sir, but this woman was trying to get into the building. She doesn’t live here.”

Griff’s face smooths out a bit. “Ah, but she’s here for the weekend. Or did she not tell you that?”

Frederick shakes his head firmly. “I didn’t receive any notification of that. Do you have proof?”

Griff, all charm and smooth goodwill now, leans toward Frederick and gives him a quick grin. “She’s staying in Andrew’s apartment, actually. I’m sure if you contact him, he’ll be happy to confirm that.”

I glance from one to the other of

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