Page 40 of Fake it for Keeps

“We had a storm come through last night. Some guests were displaced from another property, and we had to accommodate them. Unfortunately, that meant we had to reassign one of your suites.” He looked genuinely apologetic. “We tried to reach you this morning, but⁠—”

“I was sailing,” I cut him off. “No cell service.”

That was a lie. I had cell service. I’d just been screening calls because I didn’t want to deal with anyone while I was trying to keep my head together after the nightmare.

This was what I got for that.

“We still have one suite available for you,” the clerk continued quickly. “Our presidential suite. It’s our finest accommodation, with ocean views, a private balcony with a jacuzzi, separate dining area⁠—”

“I reserved two suites for a reason,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “I need two rooms.”

“I understand, sir, but with the storm and the displaced guests⁠—”

“I don’t care about the storm or the other guests.” I leaned forward, letting every ounce of intimidation I possessed seep into my posture. “I’m Colt Jesson. Two rooms.” I held up two fingers to make sure he understood the difference between one and two.

The clerk paled. “Sir, I’m afraid we’re completely booked.”

“Then unbook someone.”

“Colt.” Hallie’s hand landed on my arm. Her tone was kind, the one she used when talking to everyone else except me. “It’s fine.”

I turned to look at her, ready to argue, but she was smiling at the clerk with genuine warmth.

“One suite is perfectly fine,” she said. “Our staff can sleep in the boat. We can make it work.”

The clerk looked relieved. “The presidential suite really is spectacular, Miss⁠—”

“Bellrose,” Hallie supplied. “And I’m sure it is. We’ll take it.”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand they fix this, find another room, do whatever it took to give me the space I’d planned for. But Hallie was already accepting the key cards, still smiling at the poor clerk like he hadn’t just ruined my carefully laid plans.

The presidential suite was, admittedly, spectacular.

A wall of windows overlooked the ocean, the view currently obscured by gently falling snow. The living area was spacious and elegantly furnished, with plush couches, a fireplace, and a dining table that could seat eight. Through an open doorway, I could see the bedroom with its enormous bed and more ocean views.

And outside on the balcony, steam rose from what was clearly a heated jacuzzi, like a middle finger to Mother Nature’s icy fury.

Hallie moved through the space like she was exploring a space shit, her eyes wide with wonder. She touched the soft throw blankets, ran her fingers along the back of the velvet couch, peered out at the snowy landscape with obvious delight.

The bellhop followed us in with our bags, explaining the various amenities. Room service menu. Restaurant reservations. Spa appointments. Every word made Hallie’s eyes grow wider.

“This is all just incredible,” she said. Before the valet could leave, Hallie turned to me with that same sweet smile she’d given the clerk. “Give him a generous tip, my love. For his efforts.”

I clenched my jaw. She was doing this on purpose—spending my money, bossing me around, all while maintaining the image of the perfect, considerate fiancée.

It was infuriating. It was also kind of hot.

I pulled out my wallet and handed the bellhop several bills, which was more than generous because I wasn’t about to let Hallie accuse me of being cheap. He thanked us profusely and left, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked automatically.

Hallie immediately went back to exploring, bending down to examine the selection of wine in the mini bar. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder, and her jeans stretched across her ass in a way that made my mouth go dry.

I couldn’t help but check out her other assets while I was at it. I wasn’t sure what I would want to grab first. Probably boobs. I already managed to cop a feel of her ass. But damn I could just imagine how hot that perfect ass would look in a tiny thong. My hands would have more than enough to grab onto.

She straightened suddenly and caught me staring.

“Really?” she said, one eyebrow raised.

I moved to the couch and sat down, deliberately relaxed, clasping my hands behind my head. “If you’re entitled to tip with my money, I’m entitled to enjoy the view I paid for.”