Page 27 of Unwillingly His

My lungs burned, and tears gathered in the corner of my eyes. Suddenly him not looking me in the eye made sense.

He was sparing me the embarrassment of having him witness a particularly hard moment in my life.

Staff like Augustus, and those he trained, saw everything and nothing at the same time. A spill was made, a maid was there cleaning it before the person who had made the mess noticed. Luggage needed to be handled, a bell hop was there as you exited your doors. A man brought a hooker to his room, the staff were too busy to notice. The same man’s wife came in, and they hadn’t seen him.

In the hotel business, discretion was the better part of valor. I used to laugh when he said that to staff. I would joke with my mother about what they must know. I didn’t understand what my mother meant when she said, ‘they will never know anything, at least nothing anyone will ever hear.’

“I can get you another card,” I said, regaining my composure. “My family has been coming to this hotel for years. You know that I will pay. I am just having an issue with my credit card company. I will have the new card today.”

“I’m afraid that will not be possible.” Augustus raised his hand, cutting me off.

That was when I remembered.

I had never had a card on file for this room. The second I arrived here, fresh from the hospital, still heavily bruised with bandages holding my body together, so many orange bottles of pain pills and antibiotics rattling in my purse, my hospital ID bracelet still on my wrist, Augustus had greeted me with a look of horror.

He had practically fawned over me, without breaking that distinct, professional distance people in the service industry maintained at all times.

Everything from back then was fuzzy, at best, but I remembered him guiding me to a chair in the lobby and sitting me down so carefully. I had a cup of the most amazing chamomile tea brought to me while he called my family’s money manager to arrange payment and had housekeeping arrange one of the long-stay suites.

He even had the house doctor go over the care instructions the hospital had given me. The doctor was so sweet, taking all my medications, verifying the doses, and having them delivered when it was time for them, with either water or food, depending on the medication.

The doctor had a counselor come in and hold grief counseling sessions in the comfort of my room so I didn’t feel alone while I healed.

Augustus even had the kitchen prepare my favorite meals—meals that were designed to help me heal—a perfect blend of comfort foods and nutrition.

Now, I was being kicked to the curb with nowhere to go. That didn’t make sense.

“My card was never on file,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Augustus.

“No, ma’am.”

“The bill had always been sent to my family estate and handled with a very generous gratuity.”

“In the past, that was how it worked,” he confirmed. “And your family’s generosity has never gone unnoticed.”

“What changed? The money manager is the same. You called yourself to ensure there would not be an issue with payment. Are you worried that I won’t be as generous? Is that why you’ve come banging on my door before I even had my coffee?” My words and tone were far harsher than I had intended. But it was what it was.

I was cold, tired, and still reeling from yesterday’s embarrassment, and today’s indignation added more than I could handle.

“Ma’am.” Augustus’s eyes hardened as he looked at me directly. Apparently I had crossed some line, and I was no longer entitled to the faux feeling of privacy. “It is quite simple. I received a call this morning. The funds for this room are no longer available. You have ten minutes to pack your things, and then security will be up to escort you from the building. With or without your belongings.”

“Who called you? They were lying.” I stomped my foot like a petulant child and was immediately embarrassed.

My mother and I would have mocked someone who was behaving how I was.

She would be ashamed of me.

“The call was made by your trustee, Mr. Manwarring. He informed us none of your extravagant lifestyle will continue to be covered. He did ask that I relay a message.”

“What’s the message?” I bit out.

My blood pressure was rising, and my hands balled into fists as more cold tears built behind my eyes.

He cleared his throat. “You were a bad girl for not asking him for permission.”

With that, Augustus looked down his nose at me in disgust, turned on his heel, and walked away.

CHAPTER 13

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