Page 45 of Pervade London
As soon as I woke, my thoughts spiraled around scenarios of how I could still save our relationship. We should have left London like Xander had suggested. We would still be together if I hadn’t selfishly put myself first.
Xander had been gone for half the night, but it felt longer. How could I face the world again?
In a daze, I managed to get dressed, not even bothering to shower. I just wanted to go home, I wanted to feel normal and I refused to believe I couldn’t go back to our place. If Xander was selling the flat, I still had time to at least gather my stuff.
I wheeled my suitcase out of the room with one hand while carrying my violin case with the other, and headed for the lift.On the ride down to the foyer, I tried psyching myself up so I could act casual in front of the hotel staff.
I made my way over to Reception as loneliness inched up my spine. “I’m checking out.”
Alone.
The receptionist looked up from her screen. “Did you enjoy your stay?”
Not even a little.
I bit my lip. Reporting what had happened during the night could put Xander in even more danger. At least that’s what James had insinuated.
“It was fine.” I parked my suitcase next to my feet.
“Which room?”
“377.”
She tapped her keyboard. “Huh.”
“Something wrong?” I blinked at her in confusion.
She looked up. “Do you have your keycard?”
“No, sorry.”
“How about the credit card used to secure the room?”
“No, but I need to make sure it’s been paid for. Try looking under the name Wells.”
After a few moments, she shook her head. “No one under that name either.”
I lay my violin case on the desk. “Check under Emily Rampling. Or Xander Rothschild.”
“So you play?” She gestured at my case.
I nodded.
“I had lessons as a child,” she said. “Sounded like cats screaming.”
She clicked away, and her confused expression told me she hadn’t been able to find our names either.
“Has it been taken care of, then?”
With a raised finger, she gestured for me to wait as she answered a phone that refused to stop ringing.
She turned away, and I used that moment to grab my violin and suitcase and leave.
The taxi ride home felt excruciatingly long, but it gave me time to think. I knew Xander would make his way home to me somehow. Or he would at least call me. His walking away last night had been to protect me in that moment. It was so him—putting me first and making sure I had everything I needed.
But Xander’s not his name.
I tried to ignore that haunting voice of doubt.
