I turn around and head to the stairs, already shifting my mindset to think about the family business, when Malia emerges from the hallway that leads to the restrooms. She sees me, beams as if she's so happy to see me, and opens her mouth—possibly to greet me, but I walk past her, ignoring her presence. From my periphery, I see her mouth hanging open and her expression turning confused at my attitude. Her mere sight reminds me of what I saw this morning and I'm not in the mood to be friendly with her.
Irene looks at me, but I stare straight ahead, also ignoring her questioning expression. I'm usually charming to whoever is around me, everyone knows that. But tonight, I barely have any fucks to give her an explanation. She knows not to ask, so continues not saying anything as she walks beside me.
"Sir, Irene," Erica from the front desk comes up to us in a hurry, "A guest just arrived."
"Who?" I ask.
"Mr. Peterson, Sir."
