This Crazy Rich Boy

"Come on, Gabriel. Are you shitting me? How do you mean THIS ENTIRE BUILDING?"

Gabriel keeps a straight face. "I mean exactly that. This entire building is your place of residence."

"What am I gonna do with a whole building? How do I clean it? Where do I stay? Which room? OH MY GOD."

"Don't worry about a thing. Everything is well taken care of. My butler, Lopez, has ȧssigned your head of household. This is where you'll hold court—"

--"Hold what?"

"Hold court. Meetings, I mean."

"And why would I hold meetings? I'm just your personal ȧssistant!"

"Oh, that," Gabriel sighs. "We'll have to talk about the new terms and conditions."

"Do not do this to me," Claire scowls. "You can't just change the terms of my employment with you just like that. I need to agree to it."

"Yes, of course!"

"And most importantly, I am not one who will be easily impressed by grandeur and luxury or any shiny thing you flash before me!"

But a moment later, Claire's jaws drop because everything, indeed, is very impressive—from the sheer grandeur and luxury of the former Ilustrados Hotel, to all the shiny things she encounters in the first few steps she makes into her new "home."

As a boutique hotel, and one that can be considered the "crown jewel" of Gabriel Tan's TXCI Holdings, Ilustrados is as lavishly appointed as any five-star hotel brand. But there's one major thing that Claire noticed when she walks into the lobby—there are no guests.

They walk into the lobby and there are only a few people there, all of them the staff. The concierge politely greets them, while another so carefully takes her bags and places them neatly on the concierge trolley.

"Hello," Claire greets them sheepishly, feeling every bit out of place. "How are you today?"

The concierge smiles but his entire body language seems to convey to Claire the singular message, "My entire family eat on the palm of your hand, so hail thee, Your Royal Highness." That is, if body language could actually speak. Instead, the concierge mutters, "I'm fine, Miss Claire. I'm Dale, your ever-humble servant. And welcome to the Residence!"

Claire feels weird being addressed in that way—wasn't it only the other day when she was walking—walking!—the four blocks to Leed's to deposit Gabriel Tan's soiled clothing because she had no cab fare? Now this person addresses her as though she's the absolute monarch of some tiny country. And also—what "Residence?" "Isn't this the Ilustrados?"

Claire looks at Gabriel, who has been standing beside her, silently watching this exchange. "Why?"

Gabriel shrugs. "You need a house."

"This isn't a house!" What am I going to do here?"

"You don't have to do anything," Gabriel says. "Just stay here. I want you to feel absolutely at home. Check out the various offerings of the Residence. Then I want you to come to the office later today to discuss our business."

"You mean, my ongoing tenure as your 'employee'?"

"If you'd like to put it that way, then yes." Gabriel flashes a rare smile. "Have a good day, Claire."

The Bentley has long been gone, but Claire is still standing there, in the middle of the hotel-formerly-known-as-the-Ilustrados' lavishly appointed lobby, unsure of what to think or do. Everything in the past few days is happening at lightning speed, and it's difficult to catch up. Her life is hitting surreal territory, and sometimes she wonders if she'd wake up at any moment to find that her real life hasn't changed a bit—that she's still the old Claire from the block, with nothing going for her but her wit and the courage to face a broken world.

The concierge makes a polite grunt to get her attention. "Miss Claire, would you like me to show you your suite?"

Claire stares at him. "Dale, isn't it? Well, Dale, can you be absolutely honest with me?"

"Please tell me," Claire says, "exactly what the hell is going on?"

Dale the concierge blushes. "Uhh, Ma'am, I'm not sure what to tell you, but because you asked for absolute honesty, then all I know is that the hotel has been repurposed."

"'Repurposed', you mean to serve as my place of residence?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"The entire building, as Gabriel said?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Hmmm," Claire touches her lip with a finger, a smile curving a corner of her lips. "If that's the case, then Dale, the concierge, there is one thing I want us to do first."

"And what shall it be, Ma'am?"

"LET'S PARTY!" Claire screeches like a school girl as she runs towards the waiting elevator.