I step out of the bathroom, bypassing the blow drier in favor of air drying my hair even though I’d normally never do that in winter. Then again, I’d normally never wake up in an unfamiliar house feeling like road kill, either.

I make my way back into the room with far more ease than I did exiting it, only to find my bed perfectly made up, graced with fresh silk sheets and a gazillion throw pillows, looking like something out of a magazine. The blinds are drawn, the entire space spotless, exuding the kind of luxury and comfort that I’d be willing to do pretty much anything to get if I didn’t know its real price tag.

The only thing more impressive than the room is the fact that I didn’t even hear Tilda come back in to clean it. I can’t detect even the smallest inkling of her presence.

Talk about stealth.

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