Unholy Obsession

Chapter 31; The red room

Hannah's POV

I raked my hand through my hair, getting closer to the brink of pulling out every root from my scalp. This job definitely had its perks but the disadvantages, despite being few, held so much weight to rival the privileges. 

When I arrived at Vincent's house, ready to start working, we had both expected it to be a breeze. His was a jolly ride. All he did was make powerpoint presentations for his speech during the book convention. Me on the other hand was stuck making phone calls with the authors and letting them know of their appointments and rooms in the Dove Continental hotel. 

"Excuse me. I do not like David Keith," the writer on the other end of the line said. "Get me a room far away from his own."

"Unfortunately, we cannot afford to change the accommodations. We are strictly on a tight schedule and the company is the one covering the costs."

"I don't care!"

I balled my fist. "Mrs Keith, I understand you don't want to be near your divorced husband, but these rooms are booked at random. If we change your accommodation, we would have to change another writer's own."

"Hey, Love," Vincent called, looking up from his laptop. He was sitting across from me on a blue loveseat, his white Henley shirt outlining the planes of his pectorals. "What's the matter?"

I covered my phone's speaker and said in a whisper, "An author is complaining about her accommodation. Apparently, company concierge booked her a room opposite her former husband's."

"That's a good opportunity for a brand new meet-cute."

I sighed. "Well I wish she saw it that way."

"What is she saying?"

"She's just being plain rude."

Vincent's jaw clenched and he stood up from his seat. In two strides, he covered our distance, grabbed the phone from my hand and placed it on his ear. I knew an angry man when I saw one. Mrs Keith was about to receive the scolding of a life-time.

"Hello, Mrs Keith." He pursed his lips. "Mhm." Nod. "Mhm." Nod. "Well it's not our fault that you have horrible tastes in men." That's right! Let her have it baby! "Of course. Of course. Well frankly, I doubt we care. You're a grown woman." Nod. "That's just bollocks. No, I'm not giving the phone back to her." 

He winked at me and I swooned. There was just something irresistibly hot about him standing up for me. 

"No, you listen to me. Take your accommodation and try to make the best of the situation. If you have any complaints with the way the publishing house runs things, we'll be very glad to let you go." He ran a finger over his stubble. "Do you have a bestseller?" Silence.  "Oh, you don't? Oh you're working on it? Unfortunately only authors with bestsellers should even be thinking about making such outrageous demands. But here you are, a company eating parasite, thinking she has—"

I grabbed the phone from him before he finished the poor woman off. "Alright Mrs Keith, I hope it's all sorted out now."

"No, it's not. What sort of idiot did you give—"

I hung up.

Collapsing on the chair once again, I held the bridge of my nose. God, this was so much work. I still had over three hundred more people to call. The convention was just two days away and tomorrow, we had to fly to San Derico. 

My stomach cried out and I buried my face in a couch pillow, embarrassed. 

"Hungry?" Vincent asked.

I nodded.