Page 26 of Unwillingly His

After the accident, I hated being at home.

I’d tried, but it was too painful.

Every moment, I expected to see my mother around the corner on her phone, laughing and gossiping to one of her friends, or my father barking orders to a business partner.

The home that was once filled with so many happy memories was just a painful reminder of what I didn’t have anymore: a family.

The banging got more insistent until I ripped open the door, half expecting Lucian to be there with an incredulous look on his face.

Ready to tell me what other freedom of mine he was taking the liberty of stealing.

Perhaps he had commandeered my jewelry. Maybe he’d decided that the degree I’d pursued was not worth my efforts, so he went ahead and shredded it. Maybe he had taken it upon himself to decide that I had too many shoes, and he was going to sell them all.

Or maybe he just wanted to prove he had more power, so he was here to take my cell phone and ground me like a child for a month because he could. Because I came to my senses and ran before he had the chance to push me further than I was comfortable with, he was going to punish me.

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.

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