Precious Moments Hotel Novels & Stories

It was a miracle that she joined us at all because of it. "Okay. So the first few hits came from Eshire Hotel a couple of blocks from here. But they moved recently to a hotel closer. Like last night. It is called The Ruby. A five-star hotel. It is maybe two blocks away." Phaedra says. I grip the back of her chair. Kiss her swiftly on her cheek.

Thankfully, I had the foresight to bring a vehicle large enough to fit all of us, including the security detail, without completely suffocating. "Where to, Lucy?" I ask, turning my head toward her as the doors lock. "The Pendulum," she says casually, focusing all her attention on comforting Betty. My eyebrows jump slightly at the name, leaning back against the leather seat. Who the hell is this George? The President’s son? The Pendulum is the one and only ultra-luxury hotel in Midtown. It was completed less than two months ago, and the exclusivity is so ridiculous that even the Blackwells have to be put on a waitlist just to get a cup of coffee in the lobby.

Letting out a sigh, I straightened up. "Let's go, Al. Make sure that you have your camera with you." Then without letting him utter an answer, I grabbed his arm and walked as sexy as I can afford with my heels making my walk hard to do. Bloody heels! Why does women have to wear this bloody things kung pwede naman sanang sneakers nalang?! I mentally shook my head at that with a curse, wanted to focus on my mission. This 30-floor hotel screamed luxury from the outside with its name 'MONTERO HOTEL' boldly displayed just above the entrance way.

Made me always wish to keep her talking, "You came? That must mean you missed your grad party." "I couldn't miss your last show, in Japan, that would be absurd. And besides, I missed you." She sighs, even though I can tell she's smiling, "I missed you as well, Ki. I shall be resting at the hotel instead of the penthouse tonight, could you come there?" "What's the name of the hotel?" "It's one of the branches of that hotel you took me and stole their toothpaste tube." "And you cost them about five hundred thousand dollars but you do not hear me reminding you, do you?"

But now the hotel was calling me, saying that I'd checked into the presidential suite last night and had even used the condoms in the room. I triple-checked with them, and the front desk firmly insisted that it was me—Bryce Sheehan—who had checked in. I couldn't swallow this indignity, especially since when I first mentioned wanting to go try out the hotel, Nyla had rolled her eyes at me and snapped, "Isn't the house big enough for you? Why must you insist on staying in a hotel? I've never seen someone as wasteful as you!" But Uncle Eric had gifted me this VIP card. Why shouldn't I be allowed to use it?

The man’s gaze briefly flickered to Aurora, curiosity evident in his eyes. “I’m doing well,” Draven replied smoothly. “Lead me to my private reservation.” Aurora barely paid attention to their exchange—she was too busy taking in the sheer grandeur of the hotel. Everything sparkled under golden chandeliers, the floors polished to perfection. This wasn’t just any hotel—it was the hotel. One of the most prestigious in the country, perhaps even the entire continent. “Of course, right this way.” The bald-headed man gestured for them to follow.

“You’ll see—it’ll be over before you know it.” Later that afternoon, the two arrived at the meeting venue, the opulent Hotel de Luxe. As their car pulled up to the entrance, Chelsea’s breath caught in her throat. The hotel was even more extravagant than Reese’s mansion. Its gleaming facade was adorned with towering marble columns, cascading fountains, and grand arches that made it look more like a palace than a hotel.

Seraphina The text message gave an address in Zurich’s financial district and a single word: Penthouse. The hotel is the kind of place I’ve only seen in magazines. All glass and steel and money. The kind where rooms start at two thousand francs a night and the lobby has actual artwork worth more than most people’s houses. “Are you sure this is right?” I ask as we approach the entrance. Dominic checks his phone. “This is the address.” A doorman in a crisp uniform opens the door before we reach it. “Mr. Ashcroft?”

***AURORA*** The tires suddenly screeched as Ivy slammed on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden halt directly in front of the Moonspire Hotel. The luxury venue was crawling with life. Valets in pressed uniforms scurried around fleet after fleet of black sports cars and high-end SUVs, shielding wealthy pack members beneath massive golf umbrellas. Paparazzi flashes exploded like a storm near the grand glass canopy, throwing blinding white light over the heavy rain.

I narrate excitedly. “Budget?” She asks and I think through but nothing comes to me, so I shrug. “Two hundred million.” I smile in triumph. “Got it,” Tatiana responds and I cut the call. After a series of discussions with hotel managers and checking on Tatiana, I settle on a venue that screams GRAND – The mighty Lockhart Hotel. The best hotel in the city and the third in the world. It’s almost impossible to make a reservation but I’m Victoria Smith and what I want, I get.