Page 39 of Power Games

She snorted. "No, I'm dumping you."

That was right. How ironic.

"Thank you," was all he said, squeezing her against him, before heading out.

His feet took him to the Hay-Adams. They didn't always have rooms but he'd often booked with them on nights when he and Izzy argued.

He was still dazed, numb. Izzy wanted a divorce. She'd even said she wasn't after money, which meant she definitely had another guy. He couldn't pretend to care. As long as the man took care of her, it wasn't any of his problem.

He was free.

"Good evening, Mr. Grant."

He'd stayed enough times for the staff to remember his name.

"Good evening, Thierry. Any chance you might have room for me tonight?"

The man started to type. "I'll certainly do my best. We've been quite busy but I believe.... Yes, that's it. The Presidential suite is free for one night. Will you be checking out tomorrow?"

He hesitated. "I may need to check in for an extended period of time," he said.

Until he found a place of his own.

"The Federal suite will be free starting tomorrow for the rest of the week."

"Perfect. You can switch me around tomorrow. And, Thierry, any chance you could get a suit delivered to me in the morning?"

He had a meeting first thing, and he preferred to go there directly if he could help it.

It was close to one in the morning already.

Thierry smiled. "You do love to serve a challenge. What time do you need it?"

"By ten?"

The man nodded. "We'll do our best. The stores should be open by then. Could you leave your measurements?"

He wrote them down on a notepad before heading to the elevator.

As he reached it, he stopped dead.

"Good grief. If that isn't that gentleman who dances so well with you, Nessie!" said the notorious Cici Trent, grinning at him.

Vanessa was standing next to her grandma, walking barefoot, her heels in one hand, and holding the bottom of her dress in the other so that it wasn't damaged.

She groaned. "Yes, isn't it just?"

"Mr. Grant, if I recall. I've heard a lot about you," the lady told him, pointing to his chest. "Not from her," she waved toward her granddaughter. "From my son Theodore. He thinks you'll go far. Very far!" she added emphatically.

The old lady was obviously plastered. Charles smiled, amused. "I certainly hope so, ma'am."

"Oh, isn't he just dreamy, Nessie?" she asked Vanessa, who groaned again. "Why aren't you at home, young man? I thought you lived in DC."

"Come on, Nana. You're drunk and noisy. Let me take you to your room, so I can go pass out in mine."

The elevator doors opened and Vanessa practically pushed Cici inside. She glared at Charles as he stepped in.

"You're coming up?" she asked with a frown.

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