He could have called. He should have just called. Why would he even do that?
Claire fumes as she stands in the elevator. She presses the button for ground floor, and like in all luxury hotels that seem to have come from the 19th century, the elevator descends at its leisure. She couldn't understand what really is on Gabriel Tan's mind. One moment, you're his fake fiancée, sending you to live in this posh tower; the next moment, he's sending you to that Chinese laundromat again to fetch his clean clothes. Worst, he could have just called up the hotel to tell her that. Why must he appear at the wrongest moment? Why?
