Ouch

The moment we stepped out of the SUV, it became clear this wasn't going to be a quiet arrival.

A group of hotel staff stood in a perfect line by the grand entrance, dressed immaculately in uniforms that shimmered faintly in the sunlight.

A large banner stretched between two pillars, reading "Welcome to the Demon Queen and Family!" in bold, sparkling letters. Balloons were tied to railings, and someone even played a welcoming tune on a small harp.

I froze, mortified.

"This is so embarrassing," I muttered to Rowena, who nodded grimly beside me.

"Kill me now," she whispered, tugging the brim of her hat lower.

Seraphine, on the other hand, beamed like a queen well, because she was one. She waved graciously, taking her time to bask in the fanfare.

Riley followed her, looking more amused than anything, while Rowena and I tried to disappear into the shadows of their grandeur. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible.

Two bellhops approached and, with exaggerated bows, took our suitcases. I clutched my bag for a moment, reluctant to let go.

I wasn't entirely sure I trusted strangers with my carefully packed wardrobe. But before I could protest, Seraphine turned to us with a regal smile.

"Let them do their job, darling," she said softly, though her tone brooked no argument.

Before I could roll my eyes, another figure stepped forward, cutting through the line of staff.

A man with a tall, slender build and an almost otherworldly elegance approached us.

His slicked-back silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his crimson eyes sparkled with charm. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit with golden embroidery and carried an air of authority.

"Welcome, Your Majesty, and esteemed family," he said, bowing deeply. "I am Victor DeLance, the owner of this humble establishment. It is an honor to host you. I sincerely hope your stay will be as magnificent as your reputation."

Seraphine smiled graciously. "Thank you, Victor. It's a pleasure to be here."

Victor's eyes flicked to Rowena and me, his smile widening ever so slightly. "And these must be your daughters. Welcome, young ladies. I trust you'll enjoy the best we have to offer."

Rowena and I muttered polite thanks, doing our best to avoid his piercing gaze.

The staff ushered us inside, and I immediately forgot my embarrassment. The hotel's interior was breathtaking.

The lobby was a sprawling masterpiece of polished marble floors that reflected the warm glow of crystal chandeliers above.

The walls were adorned with ornate carvings and tapestries depicting serene ocean scenes, and a grand staircase with a golden railing spiraled elegantly upwards.

To the right, there was a lounge area with plush velvet chairs and a fireplace that crackled softly, despite the warmth of the tropical air.

"It's like a palace," I whispered to Rowena, who nodded, wide-eyed.

We were led to the reception desk, where Riley handled the check-in process. When the keys were handed over, she turned to me with a pointed look, holding my key like a dagger.

"Rhiannon," she said in that motherly tone that always made me feel like a teenager again. "Do not...do not—do anything weird or try any experiments while we're here. This is a vacation, not a cooking lab."

I crossed my arms, trying not to smirk. "Define 'weird.'"

"You know exactly what I mean," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Behave."

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll be good."

Satisfied or at least pretending to be Riley handed me my key, and we all headed to our rooms.

When I entered mine, I couldn't help but gasp. The room was enormous, with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a balcony with a stunning view of the ocean.

The bed was a king-sized cloud of white linens and plush pillows, and the furniture was sleek yet inviting, with soft, neutral tones accented by gold and turquoise details.

A small sitting area featured a velvet chaise lounge and a low glass table, while a massive flat-screen TV hung on the wall opposite the bed.

The bathroom was equally impressive, with a rainfall shower, a deep soaking tub, and a vanity that looked like it belonged in a magazine.

"This is living," I murmured, dropping my bag and sprawling onto the bed. The mattress was so soft I felt like I was sinking into a dream.

But the shower was calling to me, and after a moment, I reluctantly got up. Stripping off my travel clothes, I stepped into the glass-enclosed shower and let the warm water cascade over me.

It felt heavenly, washing away the grime and fatigue of the long car ride. As I lathered my hair, my thoughts drifted to everything I wanted to do during this vacation.

Beach days, trying new foods, and maybe, just maybe a little romantic adventure. Nothing serious, of course. Just a one night stand to make the trip memorable.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally stepped out, wrapping myself in one of the fluffy towels provided. I blow-dried my hair but left it loose, the waves cascading down my back.

Slipping into a simple sundress that hugged me in all the right places, I checked my reflection in the mirror. Not bad. Casual yet cute. Perfect for dinner.

I grabbed my room key and stepped out, feeling refreshed and ready to take on the evening. There was just one problem: I had no idea where the dining room was.

The hallways were a maze of identical doors and soft carpeting, and I wandered for what felt like forever, growing increasingly annoyed with myself for not asking for directions. I was about to turn back when I rounded a corner and collided with something—no, someone—solid.

I yelped, stumbling backward and landing ungracefully on the carpeted floor.

"Ugh, ouch," I muttered, rubbing my elbow where it had hit the ground. When I looked up, my breath hitched.

Towering above me was a woman who looked like she had just stepped out of a noir film or a crime syndicate. She was tall, with sharp, elegant features framed by straight, dark purple hair that cascaded down her back.

Her eyes, the same striking shade of purple, were cold and calculating, framed by long lashes.

Tattoos snaked up her neck and peeked out from the rolled-up sleeves of her black button-up shirt.

She wore tailored black pants that accentuated her long legs and shiny leather boots. Her fingers, adorned with silver rings, flexed slightly as she looked down at me.

She tilted her head, an eyebrow arching in silent judgment.

I swallowed hard, my cheeks flushing. "Ouch," I repeated, my voice smaller this time.