MADS
I walk backinto the hotel room an hour later, completely defeated. I have no idea what time of day it actually is, only that it's still light outside, and I’m exhausted.
Anthony looks up from the couch. “That was quick. How’d it go?”
I don't want to get into the particulars, but the attaché…was a surprise. And not a pleasant one. More importantly, he refused to meet my terms.
“Exactly how I thought it would go,” I answer, exhausted and frustrated. “No matter. I just want to take a nap and get back on the plane.”
Anthony grimaces. “The pilot called while you were out. With all of the security, they're not letting planes fly out of here for the next twenty-four hours.”
I deflate and damn near want to cry. “Are you fucking kidding me? I wanna go home.”
Anthony comes over, and I lean into him. It’s probably against his protocols, but he grants me a hug.
“Sorry, I know I’m being a whiny baby. This meeting was an ambush, and I really don't want to talk about it. I just want to sleep forever.”
Anthony looks down at me and moves a stray hair out of my eye. “Counter argument. Instead of sleeping forever, take a disco nap. We bypassed hundreds of years’ worth of architecture, food, and music on our way to this generic box of a hotel. If your business is done here, let's find a place in Vienna proper. We can totally act like tourists this afternoon.”
Ooh. I perk up immediately. “I really like that idea. Let's get the fuck outta here. What time is it?”
He checks his watch. “Eleven-thirty. If you’re not too exhausted, we can get lunch and do a little sightseeing.”
“Let's do it.”
I change into something more comfortable and shove everything into my suitcase, laughing at how neatly Anthony folded my puffer jacket back into its little pouch.
Right as I'm ready, there's a bellboy at our door, and I thank Anthony for calling him up.
He waves off the compliment. “We're staying at the Grand Hotel downtown. There's a ton of excellent food right nearby, and then, if you're up to it, we can go to the Haus der Musik. They say it’s a must-see for classical music fans.”
I grin, loving the way Anthony is all lit up. He looks like a little kid about to go to the circus, and I don't think I've ever seen him quite so happy. I like it.
“Awesome. All I need is a shot of espresso with more cream and sugar than seems totally necessary, and I'll be good to go.”
Anthony chuckles, and we make our way out of the room and through the lobby. Holding the door open for me, he directs our driver to take us to the best coffee shop in the city. He pops in and comes out with an espresso for me, properly creamed and sugared, and a tea for himself.
“What? No badass black coffee?”
“I prefer tea.”
I scrunch my nose, confused. “Then why have I only ever seen you drinking coffee?”
He shrugs. “Because you give it to me.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
I focus on my drink, making it my entire world so I don’t wonder why his answer sounded so wildly romantic.
We’re quiet for the rest of the ride, save for Anthony humming appreciatively at the beautiful buildings as we pass them.
I whistle under my breath when we arrive at the hotel.
“Wow, Anthony. Good job.”
He raises a brow at me.