You're Invited(2)

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The manager stepped in. “We have been instructed to search all rooms immediately. It appears that one of our guests has gone missing.”

“What? Who?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“I’m not at liberty to say right now, madam. We just need to check your room.”

It felt like all the breath had been knocked out of me. This was really happening.

The manager was accompanied by two security guards. Let them look. She certainly wasn’t in here. It took just less than a minute of them going through my room to confirm.

I glanced at the time, just to make sure. 6:53 a.m. Nothing lucky about that. My chest tightened.

“As you can see, I’m alone in here. But please, let me know if I can help.” I sounded far away—like my voice was disconnected from the rest of my body.

“You can help by telling us the truth, you bitch.” Tehani’s voice slapped me back to reality. She was holding up the T-shirt I’d been meaning to throw away—a basic white tee with the words Pink Sapphires emblazoned across the chest in sparkly letters.

My heart started pounding.

“This is my sister’s. Why do you have it?”

I could barely get my words out.

“Kaavi, she—gave it to me. I’d—you know, I’d spilled something on myself, and she wanted me to have it.”

“You’re such a liar! I knew it! I told them you’d have something to do with this! Just wait—”

And with that, Tehani stormed out, T-shirt and all.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

“Thank you, Miss Bloom. We are going to have to ask you to please stay in your room until further notice.”

“Stay in my room?” My heart was a wild animal now. Jumping and pounding and trying to escape out of my chest. “But I was going to check out soon.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it is imperative that you do so. I’m told that the investigators will be arriving soon to handle this situation.”

Oh my goodness, I couldn’t believe this was happening.

This was not the plan. This was not the plan at all.

“How do you know she’s missing?” I asked. “Maybe she went for a walk? Or, well, have you checked the groom’s room?” I made sure to lower my voice for that last bit, so the security guards couldn’t hear me.

“Trust me, Miss Bloom. She hasn’t gone for a walk. There were—and I don’t mean to alarm you—signs of a struggle in her room. Right now, I’m afraid we have to believe the worst . . .” His voice trailed off and he eyed my hand. I glanced down to see what he was staring at.

I’d washed away the blood, of course, but the bruise on my knuckles was a little harder to get rid of.

“Anyway, thank you for your time. Once again, please stay in your room until you’re called for questioning.”

“Okay.” It was all I could manage.

I could barely breathe.

“And Miss Bloom—?” The manager hesitated near my door.

“Yes?”

“We have security stationed on every corridor. So please do be kind enough to adhere to our safety measures.” He kept his eyes firmly on my face until just before he turned around, when I saw him try to sneak another glance at my knuckles. I held my hand behind my back—out of sight. I wasn’t an idiot.

They shut the door on their way out, and I went back into the bathroom. There was a gentleman’s grooming kit on the sink counter. I took out the razor and pried out one of the thin metal blades from its plastic casing.

Dropping the lid shut on the toilet, I sat down, bringing my right foot up to rest on the porcelain so I could reach. I took another deep breath and plunged the blade into the side of my big toe. It stung and throbbed, and a livid drop of blood swelled and burst onto the tile below. That was better. I couldn’t risk any more damage to my hands, after all.

I finally allowed myself to feel angry.

I thought I was being so clever—coming here, destroying things, trying to stop this wedding from happening. It was all my fault. I’ve been too smug. As smug as a cat who’s about to get the cream. But I’m no cat. I’ve been so wrong. I’ve been the mouse this whole time. I should have known.

I went out to the bed and collapsed, phone in hand, watching the numbers. How long did I have to wait?

Many hours, it turned out.

The room service cart visited me twice, and each time I politely thanked the waiter and asked for an update. Both times, I was met with a formal reply that they were still waiting on more information. Both times I couldn’t touch my food that stayed, cooling, and then stinking up my room while I contemplated my next move.

It was 3:28 p.m. when the knock that I had been expecting finally pulled me back to where I was. Still no luck with the numbers. A definite sign.

I took a deep breath. Counted to five. Then I stood up.

“Good afternoon,” I said, answering the door.

“Miss Bloom.” The manager of the hotel accompanied three security officers. They weren’t the police, which made me feel marginally better. I think they were from a private security company, judging from their uniforms. And private security couldn’t make any arrests, right?

“You need to come with us, madam. And please alert me to any valuables you might have stored here, as we will be searching your room again. More thoroughly this time, I’m afraid.”