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She explained to me briefly that she had a work function her team had done the branding for and that she was nervous because her CEO would be in attendance.

ME:Youre going to crush it — and not just because you look so fucking sexy

VERITY:stoppp youre making me blush

ME:I’m serious

ME:I wish we were back on that rooftop, with my hands all over you

A text bubble appears and disappears a few times before her reply finally comes through.

VERITY:me too
“I forgot how insufferable you look when you’re dating.”

I glance up from my phone, catching my smile in the mirror.

“Jealous?”

“No.” His upper lip curls. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

I follow him out of the brownstone and into the car waiting for us on the street.

Rafe has never been big on the dating scene. Anything that takes away from his precious alone time or disturbs his work is seen as a red flag. I think his longest relationship was one month during our freshman year of high school, and that was because he didn’t even realize he’d agreed to date the girl.

With the way he avoids relationships, you’d think he is the one with the jaded past, not me.

When we arrive at the Kelton, there are already hordes of people milling about out front. We are an hour later than the event’s official start time because Rafe refused to be one of the first people here.

A stunning woman exits the car in front of us, and the cameras immediately start flashing as she’s quickly surrounded. It doesn’t seem to bother her much as she smiles and poses for them briefly.

“Get out while they’re distracted by the actress.”

I don’t recognize the woman myself, but Rafe doesn’t give me much time to process as he exits the car and stalks for the entrance. I beeline after him, noting that not one of the paparazzi takes notice of us.

He slows down once he’s inside, taking his time to observe the lobby. He snaps a few photos and jots down some notes on his phone. I try to imagine what he sees, if there’s some checklist in his mind he is going through as he analyzes every square inch.

Kelton Hotels have always had an element of grandeur to them—that’s what has made them stand out. The lobby of their newest addition is no different, boasting a giant, fifteen-foot metal sculpture of a pigeon. Intricately carved metal leaves are individually hung from the ceiling on invisible wires at differing lengths above it.

I never said their idea of grandeur made sense.

I heard their hotel in Colorado has a giant polar bear statue in the lobby.

Once Rafe is satisfied with his assessment, we make our way to the elevators and show our invitations to a security guard, who swipes a golden key card that grants us access to the fifty-ninth floor.

When the doors finally open to the Kelton Honors Lounge, a slight groan comes from my friend. I can feel the reluctance pouring off him in waves as we stare out at the bustling party before us. Directly before us is a large blue and gold step-and-repeat where a professional photographer is taking photos of everyone as they arrive.

The moment Rafe’s designer shoes cross the threshold, his entire demeanor shifts. Cool ice settles over him as he sports a perfectly crafted look of unimpressed boredom.

He attempts to bypass the photo op completely, but I grab his elbow and force him to pause for a picture—his PR team will thank me later. I pluck two champagne flutes from one of the waitresses floating around and hand one to him as we enter the large room. There are three smaller rooms off to the side—one that houses games like billiards and darts, one styled after a sports pub, with large televisions, and one that is a library doubling as an open workspace—in addition to a wraparound balcony that can be accessed from this main area.

The branding of the club centers on royal blues and rich golds mixed with a creamy white marble. It meshes with KeltonHotels’ overall sophisticated vibe but puts a modern, bougie spin on the otherwise classic English chain that normally holds regal elegance.

Modern is Rafe’s style, and I know this concept has to be poking some holes in his skin.

“This turned out pretty well.”

“It’s basically a rip-off of Barlow House.”