Page 103 of Brutal Heir

“Yes, boss.”

Several minutes later, the motorcade stopped in front of the hotel.

Sabrina yanked on the locked door handle. “Open the door."

I exited the Range Rover and crossed around the back to open her door.

Holding out my hand, palm up, I offered to help her alight.

She attempted to ignore it and step out on her own.

I stepped forward, blocking her path.

“Must every little thing be your way?”

Leaning my forearm on the top of the car, I bent down slightly. “What do you think?”

She placed her small hand in mine.

The moment she stepped out of the car, she breezed past me into the hotel lobby.

When I caught up to her, I leaned in close and whispered, “That exit would have been far more impressive if you’d been in heels.”

There was nothing like the sexy clack of a woman’s heels and the sway of her hips as she stormed away.

Her mouth quirked to the side as she folded her arms.

Finally, she whispered back, “I know.”

The hotel clerk greeted her in English. Most Italians could clock an American even before they spoke.

“May I help you, signorina?”

“Yes, please, I’d like to book a room.”

I crossed my arms over my chest as I stood behind her.

The moment the clerk’s gaze met mine, I subtly shook my head.

Sabrina looked sharply behind her.

I smiled.

The clerk placed his palms together. “I’m so sorry. We are fully booked.”

Her shoulders squared. “Do you have a sister hotel nearby? Or could you perhaps recommend another one?”

The clerk shook his head before grabbing the phone and pretending to answer it.

Sabrina got the same response at two more hotels.

As I knew she would.

There wasn’t a citizen in Rome who didn’t recognize a Diamanti—or our wealth and power.

She leaned her head against the car window and closed her eyes.

With a sniff, she asked, “I’m not going to find a hotel in Rome willing to give me a reservation, am I?”