Chapter 12 #2
“The hospital administration placed the reservation, but there was a system error, and somehow it was cancelled… Oh, my...” The clerk looked at us apologetically. “I'm incredibly sorry, but we simply don’t have any more vacant rooms available for you.”
My own clerk stopped typing and looked up from her monitor. “Are you both currently working at Obsidian Hospital?”
“Yes,” I replied, my patience beginning to wear thin.
“Oh, there might have been a minor system error on our end. Let me check the database again.” She spent several moments typing rapidly.
“Yes, it seems the hospital reserved two separate rooms, but only one of them was ever fully confirmed so we had to give that away. We have exactly one king room available right now. You’ll need to share the space for the duration of your stay. ”
The words hung in the air between us.
Share.
One single room. Two separate people. Three long nights.
“That’s not an acceptable arrangement,” I stated firmly. “I need you to check the system again and find another room for my colleague.”
“I'm truly sorry, sir, but the hotel is fully booked to capacity. This conference has taken over every single property in the entire downtown area.”
“Then you need to find a different hotel nearby for us.”
“Every hotel within the city limits is currently booked. I’ve been checking the availability all morning for other displaced guests.
” She looked between the two of us with a sympathetic shrug.
“I'm sorry, it’s only one king bed, but we can try to arrange for a rollaway bed. That’s truly the only option we have left to offer you. ”
One bed.
“There has to be another way to resolve this,” I insisted.
“I'm sorry, Dr. Cross, but this is the best available solution for the situation.”
Mireya stood beside me in total silence, her face giving nothing away.
“Well, this is certainly a convenient turn of events.”
I turned around to see August standing directly behind us. He wore an expensive, tailored suit and a perfect, practiced smile. He looked exactly like a man who had been waiting for this specific moment to arrive.
“August,” I acknowledged coldly.
“Riven. Miss Rosen.” He glanced between us. “Seems I’ve walked in at the perfect time. These booking errors always have a way of surfacing when they’re most inconvenient. Funny how that works”
“We’re currently handling the situation,” I snapped.
“Well, it sounds like there’s no viable solution.” He turned his attention toward Mireya, his smile widening with predatory charm. “I have plenty of extra room in my suite. She's more than welcome to stay with me instead.”
The words were spoken so casually that it sounded like he was merely offering to share a taxi ride across town.
However, I could hear the hidden intent layered underneath his smooth tone. Mireya opened her mouth as if she intended to respond to his offer.
But I grabbed both of our heavy bags before she could utter a single syllable.
“No.” The word scraped out of my throat like jagged gravel, raw and dragged up from deep in my chest. “She's staying with me.”
It was not a suggestion or a topic for further discussion. It was a definitive line drawn in solid concrete between us.
August raised one eyebrow in a mocking gesture. “Is she really?”
“Yes.” I looked directly at Mireya, silently daring her to argue with my decision in front of him. “We’re professional colleagues. It’ll be fine.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Well, then.” The smile on August’s face didn’t reach his cold eyes. “If you're both quite sure about this arrangement.”
“We’re sure,” I replied for both of us.
The desk clerk finished processing our check-in and handed over two plastic key cards. She briefly explained the breakfast hours and the various conference room locations.
August walked away toward the elevators, still smiling as if he had won.
I stood there holding our luggage, trying to remember how to breathe in a normal rhythm again.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” Mireya said in a quiet voice.
“I’m well aware of that.”
“I could have just stayed with—”
“No, you could not have done that.”
“And why exactly is that?”
I couldn't tell her the truth. I couldn't say that August had obvious ulterior motives or admit that the mere idea of her staying in his private suite made me want to smash my uncle’s face.
So I kept all of those thoughts buried deep inside.
“Because we're colleagues,” I said instead, leaning on the same lame excuse. “It makes much more sense for us to stay together.”
She studied my face intensely, looking for some hidden meaning in my eyes. But I forced myself to keep my expression neutral.
“Okay,” she yielded.
We walked toward the bank of elevators in silence while other conference attendees moved past us, talking and laughing with comfortable ease.
We stood three feet apart, saying nothing until the elevator arrived. Our bags sat between us on the floor, creating necessary physical distance.
The doors slid shut with a soft chime. I pressed fourteen and watched the numbers climb.
Mireya stood against the opposite wall, her reflection visible in the polished brass panels. She was staring intently at the floor, her hands twisting together in a nervous habit.
She was clearly anxious.
That made two of us.
"This doesn't have to be weird," she blurted.
I looked at her. "It's not weird."
"You just grabbed our bags and told him I was staying with you like you were claiming property."
"I was preventing an uncomfortable situation."
"With August?"
"Yes."
"Because we're just colleagues."
"Exactly."
“Right.” She let out a long, shaky breath. “That’s definitely the only reason you did it.”
The elevator finally reached the fourteenth floor and we stepped out into the quiet hallway. The carpet was thick under our feet, and the lighting was dim and muted.
Our room was located at the very end of the long corridor. 1447.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open for her.
The room was quite nice and spacious. It featured dark wood furniture and a large window overlooking the bustling city below.
There was a small sitting area equipped with a couch and a desk.
But what drew my eye was what dominated the center: a single king bed, with a crisp white duvet and far too many decorative pillows.
“Let me arrange for a rollaway.” I turned toward the phone on the nightstand. Mireya walked into the room slowly and turned to look at me.
Her face was carefully blank again. However, I could see the tension in her shoulders. She refused to meet my eyes directly.
“I just did… but because of the volume of guests this week, they, uh, didn’t have any.” She looked up at me, and the worry in her expression mirrored what I was trying to hide.
“Well, it’s just three days,” she said, trying to sound normal.
“Three days,” I echoed.
“We can surely handle three days of this.”
“Yes, we certainly can.”
“We will stay professional and appropriate. We’re just colleagues sharing a room.”
“That’s exactly right.”
She nodded despite looking unconvinced by her own words.
Well, I wasn’t either.