Page 43 of Louder Than Words

“Come inside?”

I turn to the window—and my jaw drops.

A massive hotel looms over us, easily twice the size of the one Jax and the guys stay at. Tall archways frame the entrance, with lights so bright you’d swear it was already morning. Big glass doors rotate in slow motion—something I can already see James getting stuck in for the next half hour.

There’s even red carpeting lining the front stairs, for crying out loud.

Honestly? It looks like a damn castle.

The second everyone piles out, I have to bite back a laugh.

They’re all half-awake, practically leaning on each other just to stay upright. Especially James. He’s practically still drooling on Ana’s shoulder while he stands there swaying dangerously.

We hastily grab our bags and make our way up the few red carpeted steps.

The second we walk through the doors, I’m just as awestruck as I was outside. The entire entrance is lined in marble from floor to ceiling. A massive crystal chandelier hangs overhead,and the light catches on every crystal, sparkling like glitter. And behind the receptionist? There’s a literal waterfall pouring from the wall.

Am I dreaming?

The receptionist doesn’t seem to think so. She looks a little too used to it, leaning back in her office chair, lazily swinging back and forth with her phone practically glued to her face. Her long, jet-black hair is pin-straight, and the only sound I can hear is the smacking of her bubble gum.

I let the guys handle check-in and hang back with the Sleepy Crew.

The second they approach the desk, she drops her phone like it just burned her and stands up straight. For a split second, she looks startled—like she knows she just messed up and is about to get fired. But then she gets a look at the guys, and her face relaxes. A little too quickly.

She holds up both hands, palms out, as a grin takes over her entire face. “Wait, wait. Don’t tell me,” she says, leaning into the counter for a closer look. “Jax Owens and Gareth Chase?” she adds, pointing to each one as she names them.

“You guessed it,” Jax says softly.

And God do I wish I could see his face. Of course, all I get is the back of his head and the way her eyes light up into literal cartoon hearts.

But I’m not the jealous type… am I?

“Right on,” she says, nodding along. “Well, my name’s Carly, and welcome to The Monarch Hotel. Tell me”—she leans in closer—“are you guys here for pleasure? Or business?”

My eyes narrow as a scoff slips past my lips. I glance around to see if anyone else is catching any of this, but of course, Ana, James, and Desmond are basically asleep in a piggy pile on the loveseat. And then Nora? She’s glued to her phone. At almost two in the morning.

I watch as Gareth shrugs and turns his head to Jax.

“I don’t know, mate. Probably both, yeah?”

Jax doesn’t say a word as Carly smirks, leans in a little closer, and grabs a sticky note from her desk. She scribbles something quickly, grabs the keycards and slides it all to Jax.

“My roommate’s a vlogger. She runs this channel called Feedback Junkies. If you guys want to hit me up while you’re here, we’ll get you in for an interview,” she says, sucking her teeth with a cheeky grin.

And if I thought my blood was boiling before, that little suck of her teeth sends it right over the edge.

“Thanks, Carly,” Jax says. He pauses as he looks down, reading the paper she handed him. “We’ll, uh, think about it.”

The guys spin around, and I watch Jax fold the note carefully, passing it to Gareth. He leans in, murmurs something quick, then heads back to me. My chest tightens, and suddenly I don’t want to be here anymore—I just want to go home.

My hand finds the handle of my suitcase, and I grab it tight, biting the inside of my cheek to try and keep my mouth shut. It’s not Jax’s fault or problem, anyway.

Just as I’m about to lift the bag, I feel Jax’s hand close over mine, gently taking the suitcase from me. He winks, shaking his head slowly, and for some reason that upsets me even more. I say nothing. Instead, I turn and walk away, passing right by Carly’s desk. I make sure to shoot her my best mean mug—even though it probably just looks like I’m constipated.

After what feels like forty minutes—because this hotel is basically a maze—we finally find our room and pile inside. The second the door closes, Jax unzips his jacket and slowly spins toward me.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.