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“You look fine,” I assure her, leading the way to the front desk where a man in an impeccable suit straightens immediately upon seeing us.

“Good evening, ladies. How may I help you?” he asks with a polite smile.

“Reservation for Avery Astor,” I say, already feeling a confusing mix of pride and awkwardness that comes with using my last name at one of our properties.

The man’s eyes round with the realization. “Ms. Astor! Of course. My manager phoned a couple hours ago to tell us to expect you.” His fingers fly across the keyboard as he continues. “They mentioned you’re staying for the National Championship game?”

When I nod, he smiles back, his voice chipper as he says, “Perfect. Allow me to personally welcome you and your friends to The Marlowe. It should be a wonderful stay, if Storm Irene stays put, at least. Regardless, you’ll be comfortable here.”

Brynn shoots me a bemused look as the attendant snaps his fingers and calls for two additional staff members. “Please prepare the presidential suite immediately for Ms. Astor and her guests,” he instructs before turning back to me with a broad smile.

“Ooh, the presidential suite,” Charlotte mumbles, wiggling her brows before Brynn elbows her in the ribs. “Ow!” she says with a laugh. “What was that for?”

“Be cool, will you?” Brynn hisses while I stifle a laugh.

“Again, we’re delighted to have you, Ms. Astor,” the attendant continues. “If you follow Jerome, he’ll escort you to your accommodations.”

A tall man in a tailored uniform appears seemingly out of nowhere, bowing slightly as he gestures toward the private elevators. “Right this way, ladies.”

At his insistence, we leave our bags with the bellhop and shuffle behind him to the elevator, where he hands me a set of key cards. Swiping his badge, he hits the button for the top floor, waiting as the doors slide closed and the elevator lurches to life. A few minutes later, the doors open again to a brightly lit hallway where he takes us to the first door with a placard that reads Presidential Suite.

“This is it, Ms. Astor,” he announces, opening double doors with a flourish. “Your suite.”

The suite spreads out before us in all its luxury. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the glittering cityscape. In the corner, a gleaming grand piano sits, waiting to be played, while a fireplace, already lit and dancing, roars in the center of the room. Across from it are two sofas flanking a glass coffee table which is already set with a welcome basket of fruits, chocolates, and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

“This is . . .” Charlotte trails off, stepping further into the room.

“Insane,” Brynn finishes for her as she wanders toward the windows, pressing her palm against the glass. “It’s like we’re in the clouds.”

Jerome clears his throat, reminding us of his presence, and we all turn. “Your bags are here.” He motions to the bellhop who has already unloaded the luggage carrier. Not that we have much. Between the three of us, we only packed three large carry-ons. “The suite includes three bedrooms, each with en suite bathrooms. There’s a fully stocked kitchen, dining area, and a private terrace. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call the concierge. We’re at your service twenty-four hours a day.”

“Thank you, Jerome,” I say, reaching my hand out to slip him a tip from the cash I got out at the airport.

“Much appreciated, Ms. Astor.” With a nod, he smiles and leaves, closing the door behind him.

“Oops.” Charlotte grins. “I guess that’s the kind of thing you do when you have money, huh?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I mumble, still feeling slightly awkward with our posh surroundings.

“So,thisis how the other half lives,” Brynn mutters, still glancing around the room.

I laugh, shaking my head. Normally, I’d feel uptight about using my father’s money and connections, but on the flight here, as I was sipping champagne with my friends and watching the world pass by our window, I decided to just enjoy it?all of it?even the parts that normally make me uncomfortable.

“I have to say, Avery Astor,” Charlotte says as she flops down onto the couch in the living area, “I’m not friends with you for your money, but it does have its benefits.”

“I bet the beds in this place are a dream,” Brynn says with a wistful sigh.

I shake my head with a grin and glance at my watch. Though it’s nearly twelve-thirty in the morning in Michigan, it’s only eleven-thirty here in Texas. “What do you guys wanna do? We can each choose a bedroom and go to bed, watch a movie, or—”

“Are you kidding me?” Charlotte says, bolting upright. “We’re in Houston, staying in the fanciest place I’ll ever have the chance to vacation. It’s not even midnight, and I’m certainly not the one with a football game to play in on Monday, so I say we pop open that bad boy”?she motions to the bottle of champagne on the coffee table?“while we try out the jacuzzi then order something ridiculous for room service, and watch trashy reality TV until we pass out.”

“Sounds good to me.” Brynn grins before glancing to me for approval. “Avery?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Brynn squeals and claps her hands before sliding her phone from her back pocket. “Just let me text Jace and tell him we’re here like I promised, and then we can get our things settled.”

“Ooh. Same. I was supposed to text Chris when we arrived at Houston Intercontinental.” Charlotte grimaces. “Oops.”