Page 7 of Tech Prince Troubles (Runaway Prince Hotel #6)

Chapter Seven

ADRI

not just for the coffee

T ime seemed to fly by and stand still simultaneously as I spent my days drawing and my nights providing newly renovated rooms with electricity, smoothing the energy flow, and fixing glitches in the ballroom and the three floors above it.

Rick joined me the first two nights. The deeper scan I’d performed on the first floor unearthed a pinched cable that provided just enough power to suggest the connector was broken, which explained why the problem returned. It was one of the easiest fixes and one of the few that didn’t pop up again.

At first, I thought their scanner might not be accurate enough.

But Rick and I checked the problem points in tandem, and while it needed fine-tuning, their equipment was not the issue, even if its capabilities didn’t reach my level.

Rick was more than pleased. He enjoyed watching me work—mentioned it repeatedly—but kept a respectful distance at all times, resorting to solo high-fives and fist bumps when I could tell his instinct was to hug.

The way he tensed his hands and arms gave him away every time.

I appreciated the effort, and on the third day, I found myself holding my fist out.

It earned me a beaming grin from Rick and a nod from Riley.

Every resolved issue felt like another empty victory when new glitches popped up on those lower four floors within forty-eight hours of repairing them.

What frustrated me most was that while I could find every stutter in the energy flow and every power fluctuation, the origin remained a mystery.

The schematics of the hotel’s grounding system showed that the system as a whole worked.

The analytics showed no bottlenecks around the anchor points, and the glitches hadn’t spread to the other wings. Only this one.

A few times, I’d almost contacted Kin-Bertie for advice, but doing so would betray my location, and as frustrating as the situation was, I didn’t want to risk being ordered to come home. I wasn’t ready to leave.

Leaving made me think of early morning espressos.

Sam’s espressos, with the rich, dark aftertaste I missed on his days off.

Oh, the other baristas made great espressos, too, but they lacked that wonderful aftertaste that lingered for hours.

And then there was Sam himself—from the twinkle in his hazel eyes to the fuzziness enhancing his soft jawline and his warm, bright smile.

The way the sun gave his dark hair golden undertones that day on the patio.

The way he said my name and asked how my shift went.

Every day, I felt this urge to talk to Sam, to ask him the simple questions I’d practiced. But every time I stood at the counter, faced with his disarming smile, I struggled to say much more than “Good morning.”

I took a deep breath. No more ruminations.

I wanted to finish this floor and get my daily espresso.

I put my hand against the Art Deco plinth that hid all the cables and fixed another stutter in the energy flow.

A gentle push was all it needed to level out and flow naturally again.

As I crept along the corridor, chasing down and repairing every single issue, I marked them as done on the schematics and tried to make sense of it.

Three hours and many, many glitches later, I was done with the third floor but no less frustrated. All these glitches and stutters in random locations across all floors. Even the ones that reappeared in the same spot didn’t follow a set pattern or logic. None that I could find.

When I entered the hub, Riley was bent over her tablet, the tip of her tongue sticking out.

“Where is Rick?”

“On the second floor. A lamp shorted out.” She looked up. “How was the third?”

“A quiet mess. Should be fixed. For now.”

Riley squinted at me, the screen light making her amber eyes glow. “Don’t you start. I think Rick half believes this wing is cursed. That this is some ghost’s revenge for messing with their home.”

“Unless spirits can set timers, I assume I’d have felt them go through me.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

I frowned. “Certainly not. My people have had numerous experiences with them in the past.” One of those things I could have asked Kin-Bertie about. Would have to ask if we couldn’t solve this in the next few months.

“Wow. Really? Maybe don’t tell Rick.” She sighed. “Unless spirits are actually causing this whole mess. This was supposed to be an awesome project. It went so well in the beginning. But now… it’s one thing after another.”

“When did the glitches start?” I asked as I scanned the logs again, as if going through them would change the information.

“Last month… before you arrived. Before then, all we worried about was hiding all the tech behind the old and renovated fi ttings.”

“Did anything particular happen last month?”

“Not that I know of. No major shorts, no equipment failure. None of the renovation crew drilled in the wrong places. Nothing like that. You can find all that in the logs. The glitches were just… there one day.”

“Any thunderstorms?”

“Nope. None of that. There was one further up the coast, but it didn’t hit us. We haven’t had any major power problems since I started working here. None.”

I connected to the wall screens and put up the schematics of the grounding system. “Nothing out of the ordinary here, either.”

“Only Rick had the training to deal with that. I think NiraTech’s last scheduled maintenance check was… four months ago?”

The door opened, and Rick walked in, followed by Jim, who scurried to his desk with a mumbled, “Morning.”

I couldn’t decide if Jim was shy or if he didn’t like me.

Rick put his gear down and asked Riley, “What happened four months ago?”

“Grounding systems maintenance check.”

Something clanged against a desk and crashed to the floor. Jim cursed.

“Sorry, wasn’t paying attention.” He held his water bottle up with a trembling hand.

Rick smiled at him. “Go home. I’ll wait for the day-shifters. It’s been a long night.”

“Thanks.” Jim dropped the bottle into his bag and left the room. The closing door muffled his, “See ya tonight.”

He didn’t seem shy…

I was still staring at the door when Rick said, “Riley’s right. NiraTech’s last automated check was early January. But I immediately scheduled a twenty-four-hour basic scan after that first week of glitches.”

That made sense. I took a breath and turned back to the wall screens, now showing the two scan results. Other than minimal differences because of weather and temperature fluctuations, the scans looked identical. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Nothing that warranted a new scan.

“Surprised me, too. I had a ticket all ready to go.”

“How was the second floor?” Riley asked.

“That blasted lamp burned through three bulbs. I had to disconnect it. Couldn’t find anything wrong with it.” Rick shrugged. “Added it to your schedule for tomorrow, Adri. For now, though, you two pack up and get some rest. Day-shifters’ll be here soon.”

Riley yawned. “We’ll be at the café, right, Adri?”

I nodded. Even on busier mornings, it was my favorite place to be. And not just for the coffee.

“Rain check. I want to see my kid before she drives back home.”

“Okay. Tell her I said hi.” Riley grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Come on, Adri, let’s get us some coffee before we fall asleep.”

Before she fell asleep, she meant. We took the elevator, but instead of the lobby, we exited into the underground parking space. I stepped out into the smell of fuel. “Where are we?”

“I know you like the sun, but that’s way too bright for me after working all night. Come on.” She crossed the space without looking back, veering between parked cars, leaving me no choice but to follow her.

Flickering lights made me pause.

“Probably just a wonky bulb,” Riley said when she noticed me staring.

I wasn’t sure about that. There was something off about the rhythm. It was too constant for a wonky bulb. “Does that happen often? ”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again with a frown. “Now that you mention it… not really. Not here. Maintenance is pretty on top of it.”

“Maintenance. Not IT?”

“Light bulbs aren’t usually our problem.”

“Hmm.” She had a point, but I still left a note for Maintenance and the IT day shift.

A flight of stairs—Riley bypassed the elevator—later, and we entered the café through a side entrance.

Bubbly and expressive, like the petite blond at the engagement party, Riley greeted the barista—Jasper—as if they were friends.

He smiled when he noticed me and called Sam to the front for my espresso.

“Sit,” Riley said. “I’ll bring them over.”

While I settled into the corner booth, she chatted with Jasper, twirling her asymmetric patchwork jeans skirt that she’d proudly told me her mother sewed.

Jasper’s cheeks reddened as he fumbled his way through making Riley’s flat white, then took a theatrical bow as he placed the cup on the counter. “For you, beautiful.”

I couldn’t see Riley’s face, but I was certain she was rolling her eyes as she told him he was a goof—whatever a goof was supposed to be.

“Only for the best customers.” His voice hit a trembling high note on the last syllable.

“Flattery won’t earn you a tip,” Riley replied as she turned—swishing her skirt—and carried our coffees over to the booth.

Only then did I notice Sam standing behind Jasper. I raised my hand in an awkward wave. He nodded at me and disappeared into the back of the café. If I’d stayed at the counter, I could have said something to him. I envied Jasper’s courage. It was too late now.

I turned to Riley. “How’s your chandelier project going?” She’d shown me images of the authentic Art Deco chandeliers she’d claimed as her personal project.

“Slow. The glitches are keeping us pretty busy. I had at most half an hour to spend on coding the light flow, which won’t mean anything if I can’t hide any hint of the LEDs when the replica finally arrives.” She crossed her fingers, a much-used gesture among Niren, too.

I admired her for trying. Building a replica incorporating LEDs from the start would have been easier. “Still no word?”

“Oh, I got word. But their string of apologies doesn’t make it arrive any faster. Delivery truck broke down two states over. A replacement truck is being arranged.”

“Good morning.” Sam set down a plate with broken pieces of cake.

“On the house. Jasper knocked the cooling tray off the counter, so we can’t sell it—but I know you never mind, Riley.”

“I never turn down cake,” Riley said with a wink. “Thanks, Sam.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy.” Sam’s eyes lingered on me for a moment before he turned and walked back to the counter.

“So… did you want a piece? Do you even eat cake?”

I smiled, dragging my attention away from Sam. “Sometimes. It provides little energy, and we can only process a limited amount of solid food at a time, but I’m willing to taste anything.” I grabbed a spoon and scooped up a small piece. “The rest is all yours.”

“Don’t mind if I do. Though, I’d best save some for Dad.”

Apple and cinnamon burst across my tongue—sweet, tangy, and spicy—a tiny spark of joy that faded when I swallowed.

“And?” Riley asked, fork hovering in front of her mouth, crumbs sticking to her lips.

“It’s good.”

“So good,” Riley echoed .

She ate half the cake while I sipped my espresso, savoring the scent. The cake was good, but this was… this was perfect. I glanced at Sam to find him looking at me, a soft smile curling his lips. Unable to tear my gaze away, I smiled back. For a moment, we seemed frozen in time.

And then Riley asked, “Have you thought about a personal project?”

Sam turned away, and the moment was gone.

It took me a moment to gather my thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about those phones.” The heavy black ones with the rotary dials—featured in every renovated room—some more ornate than others.

“Oh, the Bakelite ones? So tempting to pick up the handset, even if they’re meant as decoration. I told Rick there were bound to be guests who’d ring us because their phone didn’t work.”

Her smile resembled Rick’s when he showed them to me and turned the rotary dial. “Yes. Humans seem to like them.”

“Nostalgia always does well. I like it.” Riley gulped down her flat white.

I shuddered. It had to be tepid by now. Of course, thinking about coffee pushed my attention back to Sam. He wasn’t at the counter, and it seemed I wasn’t the only one who missed his presence; the coffee machines sounded duller in his absence.