What good will the bubbly do when I’ll be stuck in the room with a man whose idea of work-life balance is working just one more hour before going to sleep? “How about a rollaway bed?”
“I’m sorry, but it won’t fit.” She gives me a sad smile. She even bobs a little—did she just try to curtsy or bow?
I don’t need her reacting this way. It isn’t her fault that the hotel sold a room that wasn’t available. But my persistence is probably making her uncomfortable. I swallow a sigh. “Does it at least have a decent couch?”
Finally a relieved smile. “Oh, yes!”
“And do you have any upcoming vacancies in the next seven nights?”
She checks her computer. “Ah…no.”
“So I’m stuck sharing the suite with him?” I gesture at my boss, who’s still glaring at his phone screen.
She hums again and gives me a slightly pained smile.
Great. Being stuck with my workaholic boss even during my off hours is not my idea of fun. How am I going to relax? “Can you at least send an extra blanket?”
“Of course, Miss Norman. We’ll ensure your stay is most comfortable. We’ll also include complimentary breakfast buffet for two, at our Murakami restaurant on the second floor. We have Western- and Japanese-style cuisine from six to ten, every morning.”
My stay would bemostcomfortable with a room of my own, rather than an extra blanket and free breakfast. It isn’t like I’m the one paying for the food. But I keep that to myself, since the woman looks apologetic, and I don’t need her to tell meagainthat my requests are “difficult.”
Rhys signs the thick stack of papers she pushes toward him without reading them. But then, why would he waste his time when it’s the company paying for everything, and it isn’thisroom the hotel gave away? His eyes are still glued to his screen, and I don’t think he has any clue what’s going on.
She creates two key cards, puts them in a discreet envelope, then comes around the desk and strides across the spotlesshardwood floor, leading us to the elevator. Rhys follows, still tapping away on his phone with a glare. Just how bad is the situation with Ohimesama?
A couple of uniformed concierge employees bow in perfect unison as we pass by. I nod at them, a little awkward and self-conscious about the refined formality.
The receptionist scans her card on the elevator’s reader, then presses the button for the highest floor designated for occupancy, right below the fitness center, the pool and a lounge. The interior of the elevator is all smoky gray with a hint of silver and gold accents—with the print of Mt. Fuji etched into the metallic wall.
The doors open to a spacious waiting area. She gestures at us to follow her down a wide corridor covered with plush dark-plum carpet. The walls are covered with a vivid forest-green wallpaper that has decorative gold veins designed to look like textured marble.
At the end of the hall, she swipes her card again to unlock massive double wooden doors, then inserts it into a holder. The lights come on automatically, just enough to give the place a lovely glow. The city glitters with brightly lit buildings and traffic on the other side of the enormous windows.
“Please enjoy your stay. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call us. We’ll have the champagne brought up shortly if it isn’t here yet.”
“Thank you,” Rhys says. “But you can hold the champagne until later if you don’t mind. It’s late, and with the jet lag, I just want to grab a shower and crash for the night.”
“Certainly, sir.” She disappears quickly and discreetly.
“Good night, Max. See you tomorrow morning at seven sharp,” he says to me, then slips inside and shuts the door.
“Wait!” I swipe my card and open it back up.
He turns and cocks an eyebrow. “Why do you have a key to my room?”
“Not your room.Ourroom.”
“Our room?” He frowns. “You mean we’re sharing this?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to your room?” His tone says,This is most definitelynotthe firm’s travel policy.
“Weren’t you listening?”
“Listening to what?”
I do my best to contain a sigh. “There was a mix-up. There’s only one room.”
