Anna's POV
The few glasses of champagne I'd had at the charity gala had left me with a pleasant buzz but no desire to sleep.
Restless, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Before I could think better of it, my fingers were already typing a message to the mysterious man from room 3303 at Sapphire Sky Hotel.
[Meet up?)
The directness of my own message surprised me. I stared at the screen, my heartbeat quickening as I waited for his response. It came just seconds later, a single word:
[No.]
"Typical," I muttered, tossing my phone onto the duvet beside me. A flash of irritation surged through me.
During our brief encounters, he'd made his interest in me painfully obvious. And now that I was actually reaching out, he dismissed me with a single word?
I grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face, trying to smother the conflicting emotions bubbling inside me. Then my phone lit up again. I snatched it up, half-expecting some lengthy explanation.
