Page 35 of Something like Redemption

As we step into the amazing foyer, which looks like the ballroom out ofBeauty and the Beast, Quinn turns to me and whispers out of the side of his mouth. “No man wants to hear he’s sweet, Red. Reckless and dangerous, yes. But sweet?” He pulls a face, shaking his head.

“Well, you’re all those things…and sweet,” I add with a mischievous smile.

We approach the front desk, and my good mood dies when I see the pretentious older woman behind the counter.

“How can I help you?” she says curtly, looking down her nose at Quinn and me while tightening her aqua scarf.

“A room please,” Quinn replies, purposely leaning onto the counter to invade her personal space.

As she nervously fiddles with her name tag, I notice her name is Janet. “There are nostandardrooms available,” she replies, leaning away from Quinn, repulsed by the way he nibbles on his hoop.

“Any room is fine,” he replies with a sickly sweet smile.

She huffs but decides to humor us as she taps her French-manicured fingernails on the keyboard under the wooden desk.I take in my surroundings as I hear the keys whining under her punishing fingers.

It’s really beautiful in here, and I love it because it’s not obnoxious like some of the other snobby hotels I’ve seen in LA. It’s historical, and I’m pretty sure the huge spiral staircase in the center of the room, leading to who knows where, is an original article from when this place was built.

“The only suite we have is the Empire Wing,” Janet says, ruining my moment of serenity.

“That’ll do,” Quinn says quickly, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

Janet cackles. “I mean no disrespect, but that room is one thousand dollars…a night.”

Quinn grins, loving that Janet is about to have a coronary. “Well, in that case, we’ll stay for a few nights.”

My eyes widen, and I shake my head, as that’s just too much money to spend on a room.But he ignores me and slaps a wad of cash onto the counter with a loud thud.

Janet’s eyes broaden wider than mine, and she clears her throat, her face changing instantly as she probably thinks we’re two spoiled rich kids splurging on our daddy’s money.

“Wonderful.” She claps. “Please forgive me if I came across as—”

I roll my eyes, refraining from filling in the blanks.

“A Negative Nancy,” she continues, while reaching for the money greedily.“Okay, so you’re paid up for two nights,” she says happily after counting the mountain of cash. “I just need some ID or a credit card. It’s hotel policy. I know it’s silly.”

I begin to panic as we’re supposed to keep a low profile and not leave any tracks. Presenting any form of ID is just as good as broadcasting to the police where we are.

My heart begins to quicken.

Quinn senses my instant terror, and suddenly, his whole demeanor changes.

“Is this your daughter?” he asks, gesturing with his chin to a photo in a silver frame, sitting on the desk.

The photograph is of Janet and a young girl, aged no older than five. There is no way she is her mother, and I bite the inside of my cheek, suddenly catching on to Quinn’s ingenious plan. Even though I cannot stand the idea of him flirting with her, I know this is a pretty good plan to help dodge the whole ID situation.

Janet giggles as she places her hand over her mouth, which I preferred when it was scowling at me.

“Oh no,” she says, her Cajun accent coming through, which makes me think her aristocratic accent is staged.

“She’s my grandbaby.”

“No way!” Quinn says, mocking surprise. “You’re way too young to be a grandma, sweetheart.” And he throws her a killer grin.

Both Janet and I are stunned by his comment, our mouths dropping to the floor. I’m just about to stomp on his foot and tell him to chill it with the compliments, but Janet begins giggling again and playfully slaps Quinn on the arm, making sure to feel his muscled biceps, defined through his tight blue T-shirt.

My eyes narrow on her fingers, and I tell myself to calm down, as he’s only doing this for me.But I hate seeing it. It makes me sick to my stomach.I don’t think I can hold my tongue.

“So how about we forget about the ID?” he says, subtly slipping her a hundred-dollar bill.

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