AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Good morning. I’m Max Grant and I believe my father made a reservation for me until the fifth.”
He runs his finger down a ledger. “Yes, Dr. Maxim Grant and Dr. Cressida Taylor.” He glances up at me and nods. “Two single rooms.”
Max pales, his fingers digging into my arm. “Sorry? That can’t be right.”
The man turns the ledger around so Max can view the booking. He runs his finger under each of the two lines. “Your parents reserved and paid for these rooms. I took the booking myself and your mother was quite clear about the arrangements.” The man sounds apologetic as he turns the ledger back.
Max’s mouth twists into a rictus of anger. He snarls, his voice vibrating with pure gravel. “Oh, was she? Well, I won’t have it.” His face has gone from stark white to a deep red. If he weren’t so healthy, I’d worry that he’s having an apoplectic fit. Bringing his voice under control, he asks, “Have you any other rooms available?”
The man runs a finger around the inside of his collar. “I can check, sir.” But he stares at Max, rather than looking at the reservations screen on his computer.
Max growls into my ear. “I don’t know what my parents are playing at. They aren’t particularly prudish.” He glances toward the frozen desk clerk and growls, “Other. Rooms. Available.” His glare could incinerate a Cotswold village.
A sinking feeling moves up from my stomach. My sense of hunger disappears, replaced by something that might be abandonment. My past rises to taunt me. Did I misjudge his parents’ feelings about me? Did I mistake tolerance for affection, kindness for acceptance? Do they disapprove of our relationship? My body trembles with the betrayal I feel.
Max, tired of waiting, loosens his collar. “Come on, Cress. We’re leaving.”
I had turned my back to the desk, transfixed by the stained glass set in the door. Now I swing around, my mouth open in shock as I stare at Max. His gray eyes are almost black, a vein pulses in his neck, and his fist hovers above the counter.
The clerk squeaks. “Surely we can resolve this problem.” He taps the screen.
Slowly, Max opens his fingers and puts his palm onto the wooden surface and takes a deep breath. “I don’t care what the reservation says. I would like a mini-suite, if possible. If none are available, a superior double will do. If those options aren’t possible, cancel the reservation, and we will find accommodation elsewhere.” His tone is stiffly reasonable, but a deep rumble emanates from his chest like an awakening volcano.
I gasp. Making a scene is not Max’s style. Essaying a smile, I add, “If you can find us another room, we can close the matter.”
The clerk opens his mouth, but Max holds up a hand
“We can’t refund the payment.” Another man has appeared as if by magic.
“Not a problem.” The harsh tone tells me that Max will be fine if his parents pay for rooms that we won’t be using. “Well, do you have a room?” Impatience oozes out of every pore as Max taps his foot against the desk.
The clerk wipes his forehead and seems relieved at the appearance of the new arrival, presumably his supervisor. Max’s steady stare seems to have left him tongue-tied.
“What is the issue?” The second man’s tone is icy.
The clerk and his supervisor step back from the desk, the posture of both men rigid, as they whisper. JL puts a hand on Max’s shoulder. Max shakes it off and steps back, arms crossed. “What, JL?”
“Max, calm down. Even if there is no better room here, I’m sure the Athenaeum would find you a room. You will be so close that your parents will hardly notice.” He elbows Max in the ribs. “More private, too.”
“Oh, they’ll notice.” Max’s lips draw into a narrow line that promises an early confrontation with Brian and Viktoria.
“Mr. Grant?” The desk clerk speaks so softly that we barely hear him call Max’s name. The man is tapping the ledger. His supervisor stands behind him, his eyes darting back and forth between Max and the back of his employee’s head.
As he steps back to the desk, Max uncrosses his arms. “Any joy?”
The man nods. “Fortunately, we have a mini-suite available next to the room your parents will be using. Is that acceptable?”
“Perfect.” The blinding smile that suffuses Max’s face is the sun coming out after a thunderstorm. I drink in his gorgeous face and my heart lifts with love and joy. I want him to smile like this every day.
The supervisor regards our two small bags and my computer case. “We’ll have your luggage taken up.”
“Thank you.” Max takes the proffered key, then checks his watch again. “Too late for breakfast here. Check in at the Athenaeum, JL, and meet us at the Wolseley. It’s straight down Piccadilly.” His eyes twinkle. “I guarantee you’ll love this place, Cress. Fabulous building, amazing food.”
I force words out around the lump at the base of my throat. “Not hungry.”
He scrutinizes my face and makes some decision. “That’s your standard answer. But it’s a lie. Of course you’re starving.”
With a wave, JL cruises out the door. Then, tenderly, Max offers me reassurance. “You have to believe that, what ever is going on, my parents are not rejecting you, Cress. I have no idea what is in my mother’s head, but my parents love you.”
