“I’m sorry, miss,” he replied calmly, and I nearly choked on my own spit. “I’ll need to see some form of identification before I can let you into the room.”
I slammed my hand down on the shiny desktop, gripping the edge until my fingers started going numb. “Okay, first, I’m a man, but thanks a bunch for assuming.”
Michele’s face twisted into a mask of horror, and I clenched my jaw. I knew I looked feminine, with my slender frame and pink hair. The boys at my private school had taunted me for years, calling me a girl just because I kept my naturally blonde hair long and practiced ballet instead of football. These days, if someone called me a girl, it usually rolled off me like water off a duck’s back. But after my perilous journey and Michele’s snooty attitude, his mistake was ready to push me over the edge.
He lifted his hands in surrender, clearly aware I was seconds away from leaping over the desk. “I?—”
“Second,” I continued, my voice growing louder as I cut off what would likely have been a half-hearted apology. “I can’tshow you an ID for the room, because, as I already said, I’m not Sasha Davidson. She couldn’t come, so I’m here instead.”
Michele said nothing, so I said nothing. We simply stared at each other, me glaring, him trying not to piss himself. I was just about to go full-scale Karen and demand his manager when a pint-sized blondie appeared at the desk beside me.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so,sosorry,” she said, rattling off the words as she tried to grab Michele’s attention.
Thankfully, he was more than happy to break our battle of wills. “How can I help you?”
“I’m the manager for Noctis,” she said, and I whipped my head around.
Sothiswas Clara. We’d only spoken briefly after Sasha passed on my number, and apart from a quick introductory phone call, most of our communication had been over email. She was younger than I’d expected—probably mid to late twenties—and shorter too. But if her job was keeping a group of famous rock stars in line, I’d be stupid to underestimate her.
“I meant to change the name on the reservation, but things have been so hectic with the tour it completely slipped my mind.” Clara turned from Michele to look up at me, blue eyes wide and sincere. “You must be Iggy.” She held out a hand. “I’msosorry that we’re meeting like this for the first time, and for the mix-up with the room.”
“It’s no problem,” I said, taking her hand. Of course, it was a problem, but I couldn’t blame Clara. She had a lot on her plate, and how could she have known that Michele would turn out to be a modern-day French dictator?
“I appreciate the sentiment, but you’ve gotta be tired after your delayed flight.” She turned back to Michele, straightening up into what I guessed was her business mode. “It’s been a long day for all of us, so can we just get his room key please?”
Michele opened his mouth, and I braced for the inevitable request for my ID again. But before he could speak, Clara gave him an impatient look that could’ve set him on fire if she were a mythical goddess or a comic book hero. Fuck, I liked her already.
And not wanting to push his luck, Michele just nodded, picked up a keycard, and slid it into the machine next to the computer. A few moments later, he handed it over. I practically snatched it and pressed it to my chest, just in case he had a sudden change of heart.
“Cheers,” I said brightly, mouth curling into a smug smile, and started following Clara away from the reception desk towards the group of men hanging around the lift. But just as I was about to get a proper look at who I assumed were the members of Noctis, a thought struck me.
“One sec,” I tossed at Clara, holding up a hand before turning back towards the desk. Part of me felt a strange satisfaction as I saw Michele’s shoulders tense, shooting up towards his ears at my approach.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“Does my room have a minibar?” I asked casually, as if I were just curious.
“All of our rooms are fitted with a fully stocked fridge, including gourmet snacks, soft drinks, and alcoholic beverages.”
I bit my lower lip. Just as I’d suspected. It would have been so easy to say thanks and walk away, pretending that was all I wanted to know. But whether I discovered the goodies once I got to the room or knew about them in advance, I wasn’t sure which would be worse. Either way, I knew what I had to do.
“Michele, I need someone to go into the room immediately and remove anything containing alcohol from the fridge and anywhere else it might be.” I wasn’t sure where else they might stash it, but I wasn’t about to be caught off guard by an icebucket full of top-shelf champagne sitting next to the suite’s jacuzzi bathtub.
The concierge tightened his jaw, and I imagined he wanted to argue, but this was supposed to be a luxury hotel, so surely it wasn’t the strangest request he’d ever had. Plus, after his earlier faux pas, I guessed he was eager for all of us to leave the lobby.
“I will call the housekeeping staff straight away, sir,” he said, and I mumbled my thanks as he picked up the phone, then I turned away to rejoin Clara and approach the band.
“Everything okay?” she asked as I made it to her side.
“Yeah.” I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. “I was, uh, just asking for the Wi-Fi password.”
“Oh, yeah. Cool.” Clara gestured towards the lift. “I was planning to introduce you to the band tomorrow over breakfast, but since these nosy knuckleheads are still hanging around, might as well do a quick intro now.”
“No problem.”
We stopped just short of the group, and I finally pulled my damp hood down. They were laughing at something one of them had said, and when Clara called for their attention, five sets of eyes turned towards us. But it was one pair of stormy blue eyes, deep and ocean-like, that made my heart skip a beat.
“Everyone, this is Iggy.”
