Page 74 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘That’s rich coming from someone who just bought a £75,000 ring,’ she hissed.

‘Look, I’ll sort that out in the morning. Can you just shut it now and try to keep your asp venom to yourself?’

Emile glanced up from the computer. ‘Yes, indeed. You’re in suite 21.’

‘A suite?’ Nicholas coughed.

‘Our best suite.’

‘And the room rate?’ Kate asked.

‘Normally £1,000 a night inclusive of tax and service, but a discount has been arranged by Lady Maitland and it will be £750.’

‘With breakfast?’ Kate said.

‘Breakfast is extra, madam. Thirty pounds per person for a full English and twenty for the continental buffet.’

‘Good,’ Nicholas said nonchalantly. ‘I take it you have twenty-four-hour room service?’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Fine. There you are, Kate. We can send down for some champagne and have our own party.’ Nicholas was determined not to lose financial face.

‘The porter will escort you to the room and bring your luggage. Perhaps, while you are waiting, you and your wifewould like to sit down?’

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, come on, Nicholas. We don’t need a porter. Just let’s go upstairs. I’ve got a big bone to pick with you.’

‘Ooh hoo. Mmmm. Could be fun! I’ll pick your bone if you pick mine.’

Nicholas took the brass key and slalomed with his overnight bag towards the lift.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Kate said as she stumbled behind him and, hiking up the voluminous skirt of her frumpish evening dress, pushed him into the lift. ‘You’re so embarrassing.’

‘And so are you! Fancy grilling the man about the rates. I thought at one point you were going to ask for a cheaper room. Oh, you with your bargains and two for one.’

‘You were the one who started it. Talking about bank raids.’

‘Quiet! People are trying to sleep.’

The doors opened and, wheeling their cases down the wide corridor, they arrived at suite 21.

For a moment, the unhappy couple moved out of their troubled world and stepped into a glamorous fantasy. An ice bucket holding a bottle of complimentary champagne, and a porcelain dish of dark chocolates greeted them.

‘Well, that’s a nice surprise.’ He glanced at the label. ‘Mmm, Bollinger, not vintage, but still a good year.’

Nicholas popped the cork, and poured the champagne into two glasses and proffered one to Kate.

‘Not for me.’ She moved over to the Nespresso machine. ‘I want a coffee.’

‘Well, that’s fun! A party for one. Chin-chin to myself.’ Nicholas clinked the two flutes together and took a sip from each.

He ambled into the bedroom, sat on the large, inviting bed with its duck-down pillows and crisp cotton sheets and ran his hand across the satin cover, imagining how it would be if hewere with his delicious Sophie.

But here was Kate, cup in hand, who ripped into his tender thoughts.

‘Yes, Nicholas, she’s still in there, isn’t she? In your head, your darling Sophie. I saw you looking at her all evening. Do you think I’m blind? Your eyes were blazing. Blazing with lust and love. You made me feel like I was nothing. Like I didn’t exist.’

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