Jaxon arrived at the Grand Hotel. He was a bit self-conscious around the luxurious settings. It was a kind of place where every corner gleamed too sharply, reminding him how out of place he was.
He tried not to look at his reflection in the brass-paneled elevator as it carried him up. His jacket was creased, his shirt a little too loose around the collar. This was all he had left, and he hated how badly it showed. Still, he kept telling himself: 'If she meant what she said, maybe things would change.'
At the door of the presidential suite, he stopped. His hand hovered a moment. What if she laughed when she saw him like this?
He swallowed, tightened his jaw, and knocked anyway.
The door opened. Riya stood there in the doorway, dressed in a long dark skirt, pale sweater pulled snug around her. She carried herself with the kind of self-possession that made everything on her look intentional.
Jaxon's chest tightened, and he pushed a smile across his face. "Hello."
