Page 4 of From Beijing, With Love

“I beg your pardon?”

“Shit. Sorry! I mean … I’ll be right down.” He yanked open the blackout curtain. The morning sun drenched the room in light. He winced, squinting his eyes. “Just give me five minutes.”

He didn’t know why he said five minutes, because he had never left the door in under five minutes before. Ever. It took time to squash the nagging anxiety that he had forgotten something—turning off the tap, unplugging the iron he hadn’t even plugged in, locking the door that locked on its own—and that he would somehow flood the hotel, burn it down, or a magical combination of the two. Cringing as he slipped on the same sweatpants he’d worn on the dirty plane, he was so damn glad he’d had a clean pair of underwear in his duffel. The tiniest of silver linings.

By the time the gilded elevator doors chimed open, it was a whole forty-five minutes later. If he had felt bad before, he felt downright awful now.

“I’m so sorry!” he said to the first person he saw as he stumbled into the floral-scented lobby. Maybe he should have used his indoor voice. The middle-aged man in the tailored suit tossed him a wide-eyed look before sidestepping away from him toward the elevator, briefcase clutched tight.

“Mr. Wu?” A voice rang out a few steps away, where a Chinese guy in his mid-twenties was standing with perfect posture. The asymmetrical glass chandelier hanging above them scattered the sunlight into a thousand glittering specks over his lean frame. Curiosity flitted across his face as he took Daniel in, but it was quickly replaced by something colder.

“Daniel. Uh, I mean—you can just call me Daniel.” He was rambling. The man in front of him was well put together, wearing a white linen button-down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Not to mention more than a little handsome with his jet-black hair, broody eyes, and sharp jawline.

And Daniel, on the other hand, was beyond late, totally unprepared, and not-so-proudly wearing his wrinkled travel sweats and comfy sneakers that had seen better days.

“Yang Li, your tour guide.” Yang glanced down at his watch, his voice glacial. He gestured toward the door. “Shall we go?”

“About that.” Daniel looked down at his shoes, not the least bit thrilled about what he had to say next. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I have to cancel.”

He was met with an unsettling silence, so he chanced a look at Yang, who was emoting … well, nothing. His face was a blank slate. Was there a language barrier?

“That means I’m not going on the tour,” Daniel said, slower and louder.

“Yes, that was understood.” Yang scrunched his brows, a hint of irritation coloring his voice.

Shit, did Daniel sound like a total dick? He sucked at talking to people he didn’t know (and maybe also the people he did know).

“I hope you guys have a great time on the tour, though,” Daniel said with so much exaggerated cheerfulness that he cringed internally. For once, could he not be such a compulsive people pleaser?

“It’s a private tour. There are no other guys. If there had been, I wouldn’t have kept them waiting for …” Yang checked his watch again. “Two hours.”

“Sorry, I literally just woke up. I don’t even have my luggage—”

“It’s fine.” Yang raised a hand to stop him. “I’ll let the company know, and they will issue a full refund.”

“Just keep the money. All of it,” Daniel rushed to say. There was no way in hell he could accept the refund after making Yang wait for hours in the lobby. He’d pay Poppy back himself.

“Thank you for your … generosity,” Yang said, somehow making generosity sound like a dirty word. “But our company has a free cancellation guarantee. We cannot charge you without rendering the service.”

“But—”

“Keep your money and have a good trip,” Yang said, his tone clipped. With that, he turned and walked away.

Daniel was the absolute worst, because for a moment he felt relieved. Then the guilt poured in. After Yang had waited for hours for Daniel, he was now walking away without a single dime. Was Daniel really that much of an asshole?

“Wait.” He rushed after Yang, his sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floor. In his not-so-infinite wisdom, he grabbed Yang’s hand just as Yang was about to step through the sliding glass doors.

Yang swung around, his brows furrowed, as if teetering between annoyance and surprise. His eyes trailed down to their joined hands.

“I’ll go to the Mu …” Where the hell was the tour going again?

Yang pulled his hand back and held it close to himself. “Mutianyu.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a part of the Great Wall of China.”

“Wherever. I’ll go,” Daniel said, ignoring the chatter in his head that screamed otherwise.

CHAPTER THREEYang

Yang was tempted to ditch Daniel Wu in the lobby of Hotel Alium—the same lobby he’d waited in for nearly two hours. After all that, Daniel had shown up with not only zero knowledge of the tour but, more importantly, zero interest.