Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
My cheeks heated at the memory of his belt on my ass.
Most men of our class and his age sought company outside the marriage bed, and their preferences generally went to much younger women. Most men Manwarring’s age would have had two or maybe even three girls my age or even younger on speed dial. That wasn’t unusual. It was almost expected. God knows every wife looked the other way.
Lucian didn’t even have a wife to answer to, let alone any other women.
He hadn’t even broached the topic of marriage with any number of suitable women since Charlotte and Olivia’s mother died when they were children. The gossip mill ran rampant with conspiracy theories on why he remained a bachelor even with three children to raise.
Everything from keeping a harem in the basement to preferring the company of men. Though that last one had been disproved several times.
He just didn’t seem to want a wife.
That, of course, had not stopped every mother with an eligible daughter from practically throwing the girls at his feet every single year.
He never even noticed.
Didn’t seem interested in marriage—until now—until me. Lucky me.
I swung the door violently open. “What?”
The hotel manager was there, dressed in his freshly pressed suit. Classic black and white. The staff here always dressed impeccably in suits that were tailored to perfection, but just mundane enough to be a uniform. I gave him a kind smile. He had always been one of my favorite people.
I ran a hand over my face, then through my hair. “I’m sorry. I mean, good morning, Augustus. What brings you by so early? I’m not due for my breakfast or a wake-up call for another hour.”
Augustus had been the manager at this hotel for nearly a decade. Since my family had such a large account with the hotel, he had always handled our reservations and accommodations personally.
It was so weird to see him at my door.
Usually he was in the lobby, behind the desk, or tending to the guests. The way he guided the other staff to everything always reminded me of a conductor.
He signaled to the bell hops when to get luggage, directed the housekeeping to each room, and he oversaw everything with such incredible fluidity that it all seemed as if it was done by magic.
“I’m sorry, miss.” He shifted on his feet back and forth for a moment and then looked at the door frame just to the right of my head. “I’m afraid we have a bit of a delicate problem.”
Whatever it was, he did not want to be there. He wouldn’t look me in the eye or use my name. Every other time he greeted me, it was always ‘Hello, Miss Stella.’ ‘Good morning, Miss Stella.’ ‘I hope you have a wonderful day today, Miss Stella.’ He had always greeted me with a bright, sincere smile and respectful eye contact.
I didn’t know if he was embarrassed for me or just uncomfortable with whatever the delicate situation was.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“There is an issue with your bill, ma’am. Payment for your suite has been declined.” He still wouldn’t look me in the eye.
Immediately, the shame and horror of having my black Amex cut at the table returned.
My lungs burned, and tears gathered in the corner of my eyes. Suddenly him not looking me in the eye made sense.
He was sparing me the embarrassment of having him witness a particularly hard moment in my life.
Staff like Augustus, and those he trained, saw everything and nothing at the same time. A spill was made, a maid was there cleaning it before the person who had made the mess noticed. Luggage needed to be handled, a bell hop was there as you exited your doors. A man brought a hooker to his room, the staff were too busy to notice. The same man’s wife came in, and they hadn’t seen him.
In the hotel business, discretion was the better part of valor. I used to laugh when he said that to staff. I would joke with my mother about what they must know. I didn’t understand what my mother meant when she said, ‘they will never know anything, at least nothing anyone will ever hear.’
“I can get you another card,” I said, regaining my composure. “My family has been coming to this hotel for years. You know that I will pay. I am just having an issue with my credit card company. I will have the new card today.”
“I’m afraid that will not be possible.” Augustus raised his hand, cutting me off.
That was when I remembered.
I had never had a card on file for this room. The second I arrived here, fresh from the hospital, still heavily bruised with bandages holding my body together, so many orange bottles of pain pills and antibiotics rattling in my purse, my hospital ID bracelet still on my wrist, Augustus had greeted me with a look of horror.