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She nods and wipes at her face. She has freckles, I see. A smattering of them across the bridge of her nose. “I told the woman at reception that I was here to surprise my husband for our anniversary. Showed them my ID and they could see… could see that we’re married. Oh my God, I’m going to have to leave him.” She closes her eyes, voice dropping. “I have to move out of my home.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. I glance around the pillar and see the two security guards, watching us from a safe distance. I give them a nod.Got this.
“So I went up to his room, and I had the second keycard…”
Part of me registers what a mistake this was on the receptionist’s part. This should never have happened. But we’ve added new staff over the month, and some are greener than others.
Andrej is going to have to let someone go.
“I opened the door to his suite.” She buries her head in her hands and sobs again. It’s a desperate sound and my hand tightens into a fist against the pillar.
“Don’t cry,” I say.Please don’t.
She shakes her head, but tears keep streaming. “They were together, in bed. They were… I saw it. All of it.”
Something grim tightens around my mouth. “I’m sorry.”
She sniffles. “I raced out of there and he chased me, in… in only a bedsheet. We passed some guards by the elevators and he yelled that I’d been trying to… to…break in.”
And my security guards had chased a fully clothed woman down the stairwell instead of the half-naked man who raced down the hallways of my hotel?
Another necessary conversation.
“I’ve lost everything,” she whispers, eyes turning up to meet mine. They’re peculiarly clear, like the tears have deepened them, left them free of any artifice. They’re light blue, a contrast to her dark hair and pale skin. “I’m so sorry for bothering you. God, I’ve just… sorry. I just told you…”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” I say, and slowly, unwillingly, lower my arm from where it shielded her against the pillar. “You’re in shock.”
“Shock. Yes. Even if I suspected it.” She reaches for the ties of her camel coat, knotting them tight around her waist. She’s probably around thirty, I think. “I’m sorry. Um, I didn’t mean… that is to say… hello? Nice to meet you?” Her face softens with an embarrassed little laugh.
“My name is Isaac,” I say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh.”
“I work here.”
Her brilliant eyes clear up, back into a liquid pool of light. “Oh! I’m sorry for doing what I did with the receptionist. It was all me, I can be very convincing when I… they won’t get in trouble, will they?”
“Don’t worry about that.” I lean around the pillar, but the lobby looks empty apart from a few couples sitting in the lounge couches. “Do you think your husband might come down to follow you?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. No. I mean, he might. Unless he went right back to…” She grimaces. “I should leave.”
“That might be for the best,” I say. “Tell me, what’s his name?”
“Percy Browne,” she says. “Why?”
I know that name, know the family. But it doesn’t change the conviction in my voice. “Because I’ll make sure he’s given hell at check-out. We’ll charge him for the entire minibar.”
She laughs. The sound is over as soon as it begins, and yet it draws a lift to my own lips. Smiles feel much more natural than tears on this woman. “Thank you. Don’t give him a late check-out either.”
“Never.” I gesture toward the front doors and she falls in step beside me. “Did you arrive in a car?”
“I took a taxi.”
“Then I’ll flag one down for you,” I say. “Mrs…?”
“Sophia,” she says, and then adds shakily, “I suppose I’m just Sophia, now. I guess I’m getting divorced.”
There’s aching sadness in her voice and it’s painful to hear. Suddenly, and with a ferocity that takes me by surprise, I feel hatred for Percy Browne.
