“Well, you never know. He might swing both ways,” Daisy said.
Cassandra added, “He’s probably a masochist too”
Daisy tried to comfort her. “Don’t worry, I already spoke to the personal shopper. She’ll get that shirt for you as soon as possible. Once you pay him back, you can stop tiptoeing around him.”
But Cassandra wasn’t really afraid of Ryan. He could be a pain sometimes, but he was still within the bounds of what she could tolerate.
This was just part of being a hotel manager–dealing with all kinds of guests. Elise and Ryan were just prime examples. Every challenge with people like them only made her more experienced.
Just then, someone rapped on the door.
Daisy quickly made a shushing gesture, then went to open it. When she saw Harold standing outside, she didn’t bother hiding her attitude. “What do you want? Haven’t you gotten enough of my high heels?”
Harold had a fresh bandage on his temple. At least Cameron had promised to double his year end bonus, so the pain was worth it. He looked past her into the room at Cassandra. “Mrs. Dorsey, someone’s here to see you.”
Daisy shook her fist at him. “Stop calling her ‘Mrs. Dorsey,‘ or I’ll introduce my other shoe to your head.”
Harold ducked, holding his head. “Alright, alright. Ms. Blake, someone’s asking for you outside.”
Cassandra figured it was just another hotel guest with a complaint. She said to Daisy, “I’ll go see what’s up.”
But as soon as she stepped out, she was stunned. It was Janice.
“Did you need something?” Cassandra asked.
Janice strode right up and grabbed her hand. “So, you’re the one!”
Cassandra blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Janice just laughed.
“What do you need?” Cassandra was still lost.
Janice suddenly glanced down at Cassandra’s feet “Oh, I just wanted to ask, where did you get those heels? Send me the link, will you?”
2/2
Cassandra was genuinely stumped. Janice looked like she lived at the gym. She had toned muscles and visible abs under her shirt. Who would’ve thought she liked stiletto heels?
“These are from a random brand. But you can check Chanel’s boutique. They have similar styles.” The Chanel ones were the real deal. Hers were just good knockoffs.
But Janice insisted, “No, I want the exact ones you’re wearing.”
So, Cassandra sent her the link, still completely confused.
Not long after, her phone rang. It was Ryan. “Ms. Blake, my coffee machine is broken. Come up and take a look.
Cassandra kept her tone professional. “Sorry, Mr Scott, but my shift is over. This is my personal time, so I can refuse any work requests. Besides, if your coffee machine is broken, you should call customer service–not me.”
“Oh, in that case, you can resign tomorrow,” Ryan replied casually.
“What?”
He continued, “If you can’t fix a coffee machine, what do I need you for? Please remember to give me a new shirt. And don’t bother calling me for the divorce in a month either. You figure it out yourself.”
Cassandra was fuming. “Mr. Scott, did being a lawyer make you so petty and mean that you’ve forgotten how to treat people?”
“That’s right, Ms. Blake. I always cover every angle and look out for myself.”
She shot back, “Well, Mr. Perfect, if you’re so brilliant and capable, why would you need coffee? Aren’t you supposed to live on morning dew and fresh air?”
Ryan replied, “That just shows how considerate I am. Coffee is already me compromising. I
used to live on dew. So, Ms. Blake, are you planning to go out every morning and collect fresh dew for me, or are you coming upstairs to fix my coffee machine?”
