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“Yes, thank you,” my father interrupts. This is his classic style when he wants to skip all the pleasantries. As he ages, he gets more and more impatient. His feeling has always been that if we know how the sentence is going to end, then there is no need in completing it.
Z—having worked with my father before—seems to know this and also understand because he simply gets to the matter at hand. “We don’t have a thirteenth floor ready, but we do have three rooms set aside that are secure.” He looks at Rowan, and says, “Rowan went ahead and made arrangements to provide all the necessary toiletries you’ll be needing during your stay.”
Rowan glances at all of us standing in our formal attire and adds, “If you’ll give me your sizes, I can arrange for our personal shopper to get some clothing for you as well.”
“Fine,” my father says gruffly, not showing an ounce of appreciation. “I’ll need a room for my security as well since they flew from the States.”
Rowan’s eyes widen, and she quickly glances at Z for a solution. “We can see what we can do but our vacancy—”
“It’s fine,” I cut in. “We’ll only be needing two rooms. You can give the third to security. Valentina will be staying with me.”
Valentina’s eyes dart to mine and her mouth opens to object, but I must have my intention written on my face that this topic isn’t open for discussion, because she quickly closes her mouth, takes a deep breath to compose herself and remains quiet. No doubt she’s cursing me out like a sailor in her mind, but no one would be the wiser of it. Something I’ve noticed with Valentina is though she has no issue sparring with me in private, she’s very careful to not make a scene in front of others. It’s a show of maturity and control that I admire.
“It’s been a long night,” my father says to me. “We’ll talk after we rest and come up with a plan.” He then looks at Rowan. “Show me to my room.”
A younger me would feel the need to apologize for my father’s rudeness, but I’ve come to realize that he is who he is, and most people recognize and even understand that about him. I know Z well enough to see the man isn’t offended or bothered in the slightest. Instead, Z hands us both our keys and welcomes us once again.
It’s odd walking to our room with not even one bag. It’s even more odd to be calling it our room.
“As soon as we get inside my room, you’re going to call Z and tell him we need another room for you. I wasn’t going to embarrass you in front of—”
“We’ll be staying together,” I interrupt as I use the key on the door and open it for her to enter first. “This is not a topic to discuss. You’ll only be wasting your breath. Not negotiable.”
She marches into the room and spins on her heels to face me. “I wasn’t negotiating. I was telling.”
“No,” I say, tossing the key onto the desk and sitting on the edge of the bed, bouncing a few times on the king size mattress just to piss her off more. “Plenty of room for the two of us.”
“Fine,” she moves to the phone on the bedside table, “I’ll do it myself.”
I lunge over the mattress and grab her wrist firmly with my eyes locking with hers. “No, you won’t.”
Her eyes narrow and her jaw locks. “If this is your way of trying to get fucked—”
“Don’t get me wrong. I most certainly will like getting fucked. But I’m doing it for our safety.”
“I don’t need your help to stay safe. I’ve managed just fine on my own.”
I nod. “I agree. You have. And so have I. But this time could be different. I think we both need to have each other’s backs. I thought we were going to work together as a team tonight.”
“On the job at the gala,” she corrects, though she seems to be softening in her stance and facial features. “And you have no issues with your father having his own room. What about safety in numbers when it comes to him?”
I shrug. “He snores.”
I see the twitch of her lip as she struggles to hold back a smile.
“Two is stronger than one,” I reiterate.
Appearing to give up the argument for at least now, she walks over to the window and pulls the curtains back to look outside. I follow her over so I can see the view of Trafalgar Square, promising myself that I’ll make time during this trip to show her around the minute I feel it’s safe.
“First time in London, right?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
She nods. “I take it this isn’t your first.”
