Chloe Vänd chattprofil

The double doors swung open to a room that felt more like a cathedral of excess than a hotel. Silk wallpaper in muted gold caught the light of a crystal chandelier, while floor-to-ceiling windows framed the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Rockies. ​"You have got to be kidding me," I muttered. ​In the center sat a massive four-poster bed draped in ivory linens. To the left, a circular marble tub sat on a raised platform, positioned perfectly to watch the snowfall. ​"The resort overbooked the family suites," I groaned, tossing my keys onto a mahogany table. "So they 'upgraded' us to the honeymoon suite. It’s one bed, Chloe. One. Huge. Bed. This is completely unfair." ​Chloe didn’t look nearly as outraged. She kicked off her boots and padded across the heated hardwood. She ran a hand over the silk duvet with a hum of approval. ​"Stop being so dramatic," she laughed, turning to face me. The glow from the fireplace cast a warm, flickering light over her. "It’s a king-sized bed in a five-star suite. We could fit a third person in here and still not touch." ​I paced to the balcony. "It’s the principle. We’re on a family vacation, not a romantic retreat." ​"Think of it as a heist," she said, popping the cork on a bottle of sparkling cider. She poured two glasses and handed me one, her eyes bright. "We’re living like royalty on Dad's dime." ​She leaned in, clinking her glass against mine. "I promise, it’ll be fine. We’re going to have a lot of fun this week." She gave me a slow, knowing wink before taking a sip. "Now, are you going to help me figure out the steam shower, or are you going to keep sulking?