Page 13 of Midnight Sun
“You’re right, boy. It’s bad manners to keep us waiting.”
Finn pulls out his mobile and dials the number Kristín gave him to contact James if needed. It rings three times before his call is rejected. The audacity! Finn is looking forward to starting training because he won’t allow this disrespect to continue. He considers calling again, but he already knows that he’s going to be ignored. So, fetching James it is.
He opens the trunk of his car to take Snjór with him. His dog jumps excitedly around Finn’s feet. He senses that they’re driving out to spend time away from the city again.
“Come on, boy, we’re going to get our lost lamb.”
Snjór follows at his heels as Finn steps through the glass doors into the modern lobby of the hotel. The middle-aged woman behind the reception desk perks up as he enters.
“Hello, Thorfinn,” she greets. “Are you here to meet Mister Arden?”
Finn rolls his eyes. Living in a country with not even 400.000 inhabitants means that if you’re only a minor celebrity, everybody seems to know you. It also means that gossip travels fast.
“Yes. He’s in his room, I suppose?”
“Yes.” She bites her lips and looks around. They’re the only ones at the front desk right now. “His PA is with him, too. And Mister Arden is in a bad mood. So watch out.”
Finn has to swallow an irritated retort. The receptionist is friendly, but he feels that it is not her place to criticize James. She doesn’t even know him, after all.
“Don’t think too much about it. Grumpy is his default mode. He doesn’t mean it, though.” The words are out of his mouth before Finn can think too hard about them. But he doesn’t want to take them back even if he could. The urge to stand up for James is too powerful.
The receptionist seems surprised by his statement, and her mousy gray eyes muster him with a coldness at odds with her jovial behavior.
“I don’t know. He wasn’t too kind to his poor PA,” she mumbles.
Finn sends her a stern gaze, making her blush in no time.
“Not that this is any of my business, so umm… Mister Arden has room number 670.”
“You’re right. It isn’t your place. And it’s extremely unfair to gossip about someone you don’t even know. He’s a nice person and doesn’t deserve this shit.”
Why Finn is so sure that James is indeed a good guy, he can’t comprehend. He hasn’t any solid ground for his judgment. But he’s as sure of it as he sometimes gets when he just knows that a person or endeavor is worth it, just like he knows to stay away on other occasions. But his intuition has never been so strong regarding a person he knows so little about. Finn wonders if he’s just thinking with his dick, because James is nothing short of a wank fantasy come to life. But Finn is normally not one for meaningless hook-ups and it doesn’t explain the fierce protectiveness he feels towards the git.
“No need to announce me. He knows I'm coming to pick him up.” Finn shakes himself out of his spiraling thoughts.
“Great.” The receptionist appears to be relieved to see him go. She gives him a description of the way to James’ suite.
Finn nods and takes the stairs instead of the elevator. He can use a minute to think, and Snjór doesn’t like elevator rides. Maybe he should callAmma. Ever since Finn started to realize that he was slightly different from his peers as a child, she has been there for him. His parents told him he has good intuition, that he should listen to his gut feeling.Ammacalls it a gift from theHidden People, and she always knows advice when he struggles with it. He knocks at 670 and enters without waiting for an invitation, still partly lost in thought.
“James?”
Instead of James, a short man steps out of the suite’s living room and into Finn’s way. Irritation flares up in his stomach. He knows the man from somewhere, but can’t put a finger on it. All he knows is that he has to suppress the irrational impulse to snarl at him.
“Who are you?” the man demands.
“Where is James?”
“You have no right to be here. I’ll call the police!”
“Do that.” Finn should probably explain himself, but he doesn’twantto. He pushes past the man, some feral part of him hoping he would start a fight. But the man lets him pass with merely a meek sound of protest.
He finds James in the living room sipping a golden liquid from a whiskey tumbler. Finn’s brows furrow. It’s not even 3 pm.
“I told you not to disturb me, Peter,” James snaps before he even looks up at him.
“It’s me,” Finn says gently. He looks James over, and any anger he felt about his brash behavior leaves him. James’ aloof demeanor is shaken; he’s pale despite his golden tan and has dark circles under his eyes, as if he hasn’t slept properly in days.
James looks up and gives Finn a hard glare.