Of course, I want to go. I want to see this, but that’s not the reason I’m saying yes. The reason is I’m not ready to walk away.
I’m still desperate for this, to figure out why I feel this way.
He responds, telling me to be ready tomorrow at eight o’clock to finish my tour. He then tells me that someone will help me prepare for the opening later tomorrow as well. Once he stops texting, I place my phone down, my eyes growing heavy, and I fall asleep thinking about him.
At eight o’clock on the dot, I’m dressed and ready to go. I don’t know where I’m off to today, but I know that tonight, I have an event with Cain, but I’m not sure what he’ll be showing me. Or when.
This morning or this afternoon.
He was vague.
Which doesn’t help with the anxious feeling that unsettles my belly.
I’m nervous and excited for tonight.
I don’t want to read into it, but it seems out of the ordinary for him to invite someone he barely knows to an event. Especially when, in the past, he always had women who looked like models on his arm.
That’s the part that makes me nervous, but being able to spend more time with him, on his arm, nonetheless, makes me excited.
I start to pace the foyer of the house I’m staying in.
Sitting would be smarter while I wait, but I have so much energy inside me, nervous energy, that I can’t sit still.
There’s a knock on the door. A chuckle escapes my mouth.
Always punctual.
I swing the door open, but I’m shocked to see it’s not him. There’s someone I’ve never seen before standing on my doorstep.
“Hello. I’m Stuart. Mr. Archer sent me to escort you for your spa treatments today.”
“I’m going to the spa?” I ask, and he nods.
To say I’m shocked would be an understatement. Sure, I expected to go to the spa at some point during my stay, but just to tour it. I didn’t expect to be participating.
I follow Stuart outside. This is new. The Wrangler is not there.
I’ve grown fond of that car.
It must be Cain’s car.
Instead, today, there is a golf cart.
I'm not sure how this will drive on these roads, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough. That’s when I see the wheels. Yeah, there won’t be any problems.
These must be some state-of-the-art wheels meant for off-roading.
They are huge.
We start to drive, and it’s surprisingly a smooth ride. “How long until we get there?” I ask, merely to make conversation.
“It’s just up the road in the clearing.”
He continues to drive, and we weave in and out through turns.
About five minutes later, the road opens, and there are no more trees. There is, however, a beautiful building made of wood.
It reminds me of a tropical jungle. These trees look like they were planted here to make the change in habitat look natural. Like a rainforest you would find in Hawaii.
Then I hear the sounds around me. The sound system must be placed in the trees.
I’m instantly transported to the rainforest with birds chirping, the sound of running water, and the smell of rain.
It’s tranquil.
When I look closer at the building, I notice it’s not closed in. There are no walls.
It’s an open building, or at least, that’s how it appears.
I can’t imagine they can be open year-round in this location, but it must have walls that they place during the winter and remove during the summer.
Stuart gets out of the golf cart and leads the way to the main reception area.
Behind the desk is a pretty brunette. She looks a little bit younger than me, and her smile is contagious as she beams up at us.
“You must be Layla.” I can’t help but smile back at her, and I nod.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Well, boy, do we have a lot in store for you.”
“I can’t wait.” I grin back. “I’m actually surprised I’m doing this.”
“You will be one of our first. Mr. Archer called down and told us how important you are.”
My stomach flutters at her words. Stop. You’re being ridiculous. It’s probably innocent and not at all what I’m hoping.
I’m sure he means I’m important because I’m writing an article about this place, but somewhere deep inside, I hope it’s for other reasons.
Except I told him I wished I could get a massage, and he opened this place for me. He said it was closed . . .
This must mean something.
The woman behind the desk hands me a piece of paper, and when I look down, I can see that it’s a typed-out itinerary of all the things I’ll be doing here.
Jacqueline walks around the desk and motions for me to follow her. She leads me into an atrium full of flowers and trees.
I take a seat in one of the comfortable-looking chairs in the middle of the space.