“I said ‘principles.’ And no wonder you’re still single, if Gabriella Ricci isn’t good enough for you. What standards can’t she meet?”
“Somebody who doesn’t cling and won’t be traumatized by my parents or bossed around by my grandmother. Basically, someone impervious.”
Max looks at me like I just told her I want to fornicate with a woman who dances like a fairy and farts like a unicorn. But she isn’t that far wrong, either. I know for a fact that no such woman exists.
“Good to know,” she says finally. “I’ll see what I can do to get you somebody who’s better than”—she can’t quite hide a snort—“Gabriella Ricci.”
Chapter Four
Max
The second we pull up in front of the hotel, I jump out before the uniformed doorman can come over to open the door. Although the limo interior is sizable, it was almost suffocating with Rhys’s presence. I most likely imagined it, but it almost felt like he wasstrokingme with his gaze. My throat dried and my face warmed, even though he didn’t make a move or any inappropriate remarks.
Maybe I reacted so strongly because he asked me to be a fake girlfriend for two months. The request stunned me, since no matter how hot I find him, he only cares about work and nothing else. It was probably a joke made out of frustration over the new scandal. Hopefully he didn’t notice my less-than-professional reaction.
Besides…Rhys might’ve asked me to be his fake girlfriend because he thinks Jeffrey cheated on me. To be honest, if that were the case, pretending to be with Rhys would be the best revenge—
Hold on. I rein in my runaway thoughts. Jeffrey totally didn’t backstab me, so why am I even thinking about fake-dating Rhys? It almost feels like an emotional betrayal of Jeffrey.
The thought gives me pause, but eventually I just shake my head. I’m in a relationship, not dead. And Rhys is ridiculously gorgeous. I’d have to be blind not to notice. He’s like bad-for-you chocolate, while Jeffrey is nutritious broccoli. What makes me agood person isn’t my not noticing temptations, but not giving in to them. Rhys could parade around naked in front of me, but I’ll stay loyal to Jeffrey.
Some distance will help restore my equilibrium, so I stride inside the hotel without waiting for the boss. The lobby is made of polished, dark stone and marble, like something out of a Batman movie, minus the dystopian level of crime. The center of the lobby is a three-story atrium with spiraling staircases and balconies. Golden light from several chandeliers enhances the glitz. An elegant fountain spews water from a black marble dolphin that a couple of mermaids are riding. The scent of lavender hangs in the air. Everything says class and wealth and dares you to strut in if you’re worthy.
A uniformed staff member asks me for the names on our reservation, then takes our suitcases. A receptionist in a black skirt suit welcomes us with the most polished smile I’ve ever seen on a human being. I squint at her name tag, but the overhead light reflects off the narrow strip of brass, making it impossible to read. Rhys comes up beside me, phone buzzing. He glares at the screen and busily stabs away with plenty of force.
I hand over the passports. She takes a look, taps a few keys on her computer. “The Grand Imperial Suite is confirmed for your stay for seven nights. How many keys would you like?”
“One each,” I say.
She looks at me, then at Rhys, who’s still occupied. “So, two?”
“What?” I stare at her, unsure why she’s being obtuse. I don’t want Rhys to have a key tomyroom. “I mean, one for him and one for me. Two rooms, right?”
She blinks. “Mmm, let me double-check.” She glances at the monitor. “One suite.”
“Right. And one room,” I say.
“Our reservation system shows only the suite.”
“What? I know what I reserved.” I pull out my phone to check the confirmation message, then smile in triumph when I see I’m due a suite and a standard room. “Here.” I show her the screen so she can see the email from her own hotel.
She makes a small, teeth-sucking noise, then bends back over her computer. She clicks several times, making small humming noises. Finally, she looks up again. “I apologize. That’s going to be very difficult.”
“But not impossible.” I smile at her, willing her to say, “Yes, whatever you want.”
Her eyes shift around, as though she’s looking for an answer. Why? I’m not asking her to make Tokyo earthquake-proof during our stay. “Mmm, regrettably, it would beverydifficult. Our hotel is full.”
The tip of my left eyebrow twitches. “But the reservation says one suite, one room.”
“There must’ve been a glitch with our system.” She shifts awkwardly. “There was an IT upgrade last night.”
Great. “How about other hotels nearby?”
“There’s an international culture expo this week and next week. So all the hotels in the city are fully booked. The suite’s available only because the guest who was supposed to come experienced a medical emergency and had to return to his home country.”
I’m not a superstitious person, butthatsounds like a terrible omen.
She clears her throat. “To sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, we’ll send a complimentary bottle of champagne.”
