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“Odd.” Beryl blinks, her lips pinch, and she shuffles the mouse, bringing her screen back up. “I could have sworn I saw you the following morning,” she pries further.
“Maybe I have a doppelgänger.” Amberley looks at me, and I roll my eyes. These women are the noisiest bunch I have ever encountered. I clock Felicity striding our way and quickly intercept a guest before Beryl can get up. “Good morning, welcome to the Carson-Ivory. How can I help?” I smile brightly and studiously ignore Beryl's tut.
“I’ve made a reservation, Mr Carmichael,” the man drawls, checking his watch, a sure sign he is in a hurry. Giving him a polite smile, I put his name into the computer and pull up his details.
“Mr Carmichael. You’re in our executive suite—” I begin.
“Yes. Yes. I stay there regularly.” He huffs, holding his hand out for the key card.
“Of course.” I smile. “It’s lovely to have you back with us,” I add, pretending I recognise him.
“Mr Carmichael,” Felicity greets, giving me a suspicious look. “All checked in, I see.”
“Yes, yes,” he mutters and strides off in the direction of the elevators. Clearly, he’s not a morning person. I fight a smirk as he almost trips in his haste to get away.
“Enjoy your respite?” Felicity questions, watching me with shrewd eyes. I take in her thin but pretty face and severe blonde bun. Her cheekbones are sharp enough to pierce skin. I wonder how her own skin is still intact as she barely smiles. What I want to know is why I’m on a late shift this week when I’m contracted to work the day shift, but I know better than to argue when she is already suspicious.
She watches me expectantly. “Yes, thank you,” I reply chirpily. Amberley snickers, ducking her head to fight a laugh we both wish to expel at high speed from our throats.
“Must be special to be placed in one of the rooms,” she spits quietly and turns her back on me when another guest approaches the main desk.
Gritting my teeth, I twist away and widen my eyes for effect at my friend, who is already shaking her head in despair at me. Beryl tuts at us both and shoos us away. I’m more than happy to go. In fact, I can see a guest looking a little lost, so I walk across the foyer and approach her. She’s an elderly woman with a neck of jewellery and a bag bigger than her own frail torso. “Hello, can I help you, Ma’am?” I bend down a little to meet her eye level.
“I’ve… I can’t seem to find my key card,” she mumbles, looking around and lifting her bag to search. “It was just here.” Giving me a quizzical look, she twists around, sighing impatiently.
“Let me have a look. Where were you sitting?” I smile, holding my hand out, encouraging her to take a seat.
“Thank you, dear.” I escort her to a seat. “I was sitting right here, and I know I had it.” Her wrist jingles with more jewels, dazzling diamonds that are as bright as the chandeliers overhead.
“Okay, well, not to worry. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Mrs Grantham-Heath.” I recognise that name. Her family owns a jewellery empire.
I give her a poised smile and crouch down to look on the floor, looking for her card. “It’s such a smooth surface. It could have slid along the marble,” I voice.
“Yes, I suppose,” she replies distractedly. I crawl along the floor, glancing under the ornate chairs and tables. Where the hell is it? Pressure begins to dig into my knees, sending a deep ache to stab down to the bone. Humming against the pain, I bend lower, trying to look under a low table, when I see the outline of the card. “Got it!” I call back lightly and reach to retrieve it. I twist around and find two wide-placed legs and shiny shoes in my way. “Excuse me, sorry.” I blush, embarrassed, and push to a stand, where Cain's stark and bright eyes stare blankly at me.
“What are you doing?” he rasps quietly.
“Mrs Grantham-Heath dropped her card,” I explain, holding it up.
“Oh, you found it!” her wispy voice sounds to my right. She stands slowly.
I smile widely at her. “It was under the table,” I tell her and hand it over.
“You are kind. Thank you, dear.”
“Of course. Can I help with anything else?” I ask silently, praying she says yes because Cain's bristling body is in my peripheral vision. I want nothing more than to get away from him and his shitty attitude.
“Oh no, you’ve done more than enough. Thank you.” She pats my hands, then turns to my boss. “Your staff are a credit to you,” she informs him, hitching her bag on her shoulder, and I beam at the compliment. I watch as she walks away, mumbling to herself.
“Now I understand why you forever have bruises on your knees,” Cain drawls, sending my cheeks bright pink. I chance a look up, only to find a few of my colleagues are watching the exchange.
“Excuse me. I need to return to work.” I say quietly. Why is he making it his personal mission to draw attention to me?
“In future, issue a new card. I expect more from my employees than scrambling around on their knees,” he imparts hotly and leaves me standing open-mouthed as he strides across the foyer with the confidence of a man who has buckets of money and exits out of the main doors, adjusting his suit jacket as he goes. I really wish I could put him in his place, but I need this job. I plan to keep looking—long-term, this isn’t going to work for me. Cain and I don’t gel. When I finally turn back to reception, I find Felicity smirking at me. Another person I don’t gel with. Maybe it’s me, I concede, heading back to reception grumpily.
The remainder of my shift, thankfully, goes by uneventfully. Cain doesn’t reappear, and we are too busy for anyone else to make any passing comments. I leave work irritated and dejected about my career at Carson-Ivory. Whilst the hotel was being taken over, everyone was too preoccupied with ensuring the place ran smoothly during the transition, the pressure of a new owner and management forcing us to each keep a low profile. We’d been terrified to lose our jobs, yet I slipped through unnoticed and found an easy rhythm at work. I was building up a good rapport with the clients and woke up geared for the day, but now I can’t wait to get home. I’m no stranger to hard work or difficult people. Felicity is one of them, but having my boss openly dislike me hits on a deeper level. I leave through the staff entrance, make my way to the street and hit the path, moving quickly amongst everyone. I keep my head down and breathe a sigh of relief, glad to be going home. I’m not in the mood to cook, so I decide to double back towards the tube and go across town to my favourite Thai restaurant for a takeaway. I can pick up some wine, watch a chick flick, and put on a facemask.
