Page 3 of His Impossible Heir

“We are thrilled that you chose our hotel for your first visit to Paris,” the woman continued with a slight bow. “You are already checked in,” Brunette beauty announced with a cool, sophisticated smile. “Here is your key. There is a bottle of chilled white wine in your room, which was upgraded from a premium room to the Gold Suite, compliments of Princess el-Mitra.”

Amanda smothered a sigh at her friend’s machinations. “Emma,” she whispered with a mutinous glare at the disappearing limousine.

The brunette continued as if she hadn’t heard. “Your suitcase has already been delivered to your room. If there is anything more that I, or anyone on the staff, can do to make your stay here this week more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” Amanda replied, trying to be polite while, at the same time, trying very hard not to dance around as her bladder protested the delay. After looking around and getting her bearings, she took the key card and hurried over to the bank of elevators. For a moment, she considered using the lobby restroom, but after the continuous hum of the airplane over the past fifteen hours, screaming babies, “courteous” small talk from other passengers and flight attendants, not to mention the chaos of the airport, Amanda desperately needed silence. So, she hurried over to the elevators and pressed the call button, giving up and dancing from foot to foot in an effort to keep her body in check.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she realized that the lovely brunette was still watching. Had Amanda been rude? Subduing her dancing, she tried to appear calm as she waited for the stupid elevator.

When it finally arrived, she nearly mowed down several people who were exiting the elevator. Glancing back at the woman again, Amanda groaned. Yes, she looked like an idiot. But what could she do? Her mind was slowly grinding to a halt, rebelling at the thought of making any more decisions after the past twenty-four hours of rushing around to pack and get to the airport.

The elevator doors closed silently and Amanda sighed with relief, leaning her head back against the mirrored wall of the elevator, staring up at the lights indicating the floor level. When the elevator cab stopped on the fifteenth floor, Amanda gripped her tote bag, trying not to dance with impatience. Her bladder was getting ready to revolt entirely now and she regretted that last cup of coffee on the plane.

It took four tries to get the stupid key card to release the door lock. A couple walking down the hallway peered at her curiously as she muttered several choice words under her breath.

“Are yousupposedto be here?” the man demanded, his tone brusque as the blond woman with her arm looped through his stood by, looking bored. Mistress, Amanda thought immediately with a judgy tone to the voice in her head.

“This is my suite,” she replied, but she was so tired and her bladder was so angry by now, she might have snarled the words. Thankfully, Amanda was able to tap the key card against the digital box in exactly the right place to release the lock. It opened with a soft snick. She hitched her tote bag higher onto her shoulder, smiled awkwardly at the irritated couple, then pushed through the door.

Once the door was closed, she sighed with relief, closing her eyes briefly. But her bladder knew that relief was imminent and she hurried through the enormous suite, searching for the bathroom.

Amanda had reserved a room with a king sized bed, anticipating being able to sleep diagonally across the bed during this hiatus from her real life. What she hadn’t anticipated was her friend upgrading her room to a suite, complete with a living room large enough to hold two lush, down filled sofas and a large coffee table in the middle. A polished dining room table filled up the other half of the large room, surrounded by twelve chairs!

“Bathroom?” she muttered, looking around. She danced from one foot to the other, not sure which of the several doors might be hiding the bathroom.

Quickly, she rushed over to the closest door and opened it. A kitchen? Why did someone need a freaking kitchen in a hotel room?

She shook her head and tried the next. Closet. The third hid a large theater area, with another door that led to a small room with a crib and changing table. When she pushed open the fourth door, she finally found the bedroom and rushed inside.

After finishing in the bathroom and washing her hands, Amanda ignored her reflection in the mirror and turned around, looking for her suitcase. The brunette in the lobby had mentioned that it was already here. With wine?

“Where’s the wine?” she whispered, beyond grateful for the peaceful silence after traveling in a throng of people for too many hours to count.

“May I…”

Amanda shrieked at the unexpected voice, jumping back as she pulled her tote bag in front of her like a shield. Looking around, she spotted a man in the hotel’s uniform standing in the middle of the ornate living room.

“Who the hell are you?” she gasped, putting a hand over her pounding heart.

The man looked just as startled, and even a touch offended.

“I apologize, Ms. Thomas. I am here to ensure that your suite meets your expectations. Is there anything I can get for you? Would you like a drink, maybe some coffee or tea? Perhaps some breakfast?” he offered. “The kitchen chef has a waffle recipe that is exceptionally wonderful.”

Amanda rubbed her forehead, wishing the man would just…go away.

“No, nothing.” She didn’t realize how tightly she was clutching her tote in front of her until her fingers protested. “I’d just like…I need to sleep.”

The man appeared surprised, but he blanked his expression to a bland, professional smile and bowed. “Of course, ma’am. Please, don’t hesitate to call the front desk if you need anything at all. I’m the butler for this floor and would be happy to provide anything you require.”

With that, he walked silently out of the suite.

Amanda waited for the snick of the door closing behind him before she relaxed. Dumping her tote onto the floor, she looked around. There was a large bouquet of white flowers, similar to the bouquet gracing the lobby table, but smaller. She walked over to the blooms and touched one. Sure enough, they were real.

“How much would that cost?” she whispered, then looked around. She still hadn’t spotted the promised bottle of wine. “Figures!”

Even though she was alone now, Amanda felt…uptight. Tense. Perhaps that was simply because her fatigue had transcended well beyond exhaustion. Sitting down, she leaned back into the ultra-soft cushions of the sofa. They were so plump and soft, they actually puffed up around her face.

Swinging her legs up, she stretched out and grabbed the remote control for the television. Resting the device on her chest, she contemplated figuring out how to turn on the television. But before she could finish the thought, she fell asleep.

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