Chapter Four
Max
The second we pull up in front of the hotel, I jump out before the uniformed doorman can come over to open the door.
Although the limo interior is sizable, it was almost suffocating with Rhys’s presence.
I most likely imagined it, but it almost felt like he was stroking me with his gaze.
My throat dried and my face warmed, even though he didn’t make a move or any inappropriate remarks.
Maybe I reacted so strongly because he asked me to be a fake girlfriend for two months.
The request stunned me, since no matter how hot I find him, he only cares about work and nothing else.
It was probably a joke made out of frustration over the new scandal.
Hopefully he didn’t notice my less-than-professional reaction.
Besides…Rhys might’ve asked me to be his fake girlfriend because he thinks Jeffrey cheated on me. To be honest, if that were the case, pretending to be with Rhys would be the best revenge—
Hold on. I rein in my runaway thoughts. Jeffrey totally didn’t backstab me, so why am I even thinking about fake-dating Rhys? It almost feels like an emotional betrayal of Jeffrey.
The thought gives me pause, but eventually I just shake my head.
I’m in a relationship, not dead. And Rhys is ridiculously gorgeous.
I’d have to be blind not to notice. He’s like bad-for-you chocolate, while Jeffrey is nutritious broccoli.
What makes me a good person isn’t my not noticing temptations, but not giving in to them.
Rhys could parade around naked in front of me, but I’ll stay loyal to Jeffrey.
Some distance will help restore my equilibrium, so I stride inside the hotel without waiting for the boss.
The lobby is made of polished, dark stone and marble, like something out of a Batman movie, minus the dystopian level of crime.
The center of the lobby is a three-story atrium with spiraling staircases and balconies.
Golden light from several chandeliers enhances the glitz.
An elegant fountain spews water from a black marble dolphin that a couple of mermaids are riding.
The scent of lavender hangs in the air. Everything says class and wealth and dares you to strut in if you’re worthy.
A uniformed staff member asks me for the names on our reservation, then takes our suitcases.
A receptionist in a black skirt suit welcomes us with the most polished smile I’ve ever seen on a human being.
I squint at her name tag, but the overhead light reflects off the narrow strip of brass, making it impossible to read.
Rhys comes up beside me, phone buzzing. He glares at the screen and busily stabs away with plenty of force.
I hand over the passports. She takes a look, taps a few keys on her computer. “The Grand Imperial Suite is confirmed for your stay for seven nights. How many keys would you like?”
“One each,” I say.
She looks at me, then at Rhys, who’s still occupied. “So, two?”
“What?” I stare at her, unsure why she’s being obtuse. I don’t want Rhys to have a key to my room. “I mean, one for him and one for me. Two rooms, right?”
She blinks. “Mmm, let me double-check.” She glances at the monitor. “One suite.”
“Right. And one room,” I say.
“Our reservation system shows only the suite.”
“What? I know what I reserved.” I pull out my phone to check the confirmation message, then smile in triumph when I see I’m due a suite and a standard room. “Here.” I show her the screen so she can see the email from her own hotel.
She makes a small, teeth-sucking noise, then bends back over her computer. She clicks several times, making small humming noises. Finally, she looks up again. “I apologize. That’s going to be very difficult.”
“But not impossible.” I smile at her, willing her to say, “Yes, whatever you want.”
Her eyes shift around, as though she’s looking for an answer. Why? I’m not asking her to make Tokyo earthquake-proof during our stay. “Mmm, regrettably, it would be very difficult. Our hotel is full.”
The tip of my left eyebrow twitches. “But the reservation says one suite, one room.”
“There must’ve been a glitch with our system.” She shifts awkwardly. “There was an IT upgrade last night.”
Great. “How about other hotels nearby?”
“There’s an international culture expo this week and next week. So all the hotels in the city are fully booked. The suite’s available only because the guest who was supposed to come experienced a medical emergency and had to return to his home country.”
I’m not a superstitious person, but that sounds like a terrible omen.
She clears her throat. “To sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, we’ll send a complimentary bottle of champagne.”
What good will the bubbly do when I’ll be stuck in the room with a man whose idea of work-life balance is working just one more hour before going to sleep? “How about a rollaway bed?”
“I’m sorry, but it won’t fit.” She gives me a sad smile. She even bobs a little—did she just try to curtsy or bow?
I don’t need her reacting this way. It isn’t her fault that the hotel sold a room that wasn’t available. But my persistence is probably making her uncomfortable. I swallow a sigh. “Does it at least have a decent couch?”
Finally a relieved smile. “Oh, yes!”
“And do you have any upcoming vacancies in the next seven nights?”
She checks her computer. “Ah…no.”
“So I’m stuck sharing the suite with him?” I gesture at my boss, who’s still glaring at his phone screen.
She hums again and gives me a slightly pained smile.
Great. Being stuck with my workaholic boss even during my off hours is not my idea of fun. How am I going to relax? “Can you at least send an extra blanket?”
“Of course, Miss Norman. We’ll ensure your stay is most comfortable. We’ll also include complimentary breakfast buffet for two, at our Murakami restaurant on the second floor. We have Western- and Japanese-style cuisine from six to ten, every morning.”
My stay would be most comfortable with a room of my own, rather than an extra blanket and free breakfast. It isn’t like I’m the one paying for the food. But I keep that to myself, since the woman looks apologetic, and I don’t need her to tell me again that my requests are “difficult.”
Rhys signs the thick stack of papers she pushes toward him without reading them. But then, why would he waste his time when it’s the company paying for everything, and it isn’t his room the hotel gave away? His eyes are still glued to his screen, and I don’t think he has any clue what’s going on.
She creates two key cards, puts them in a discreet envelope, then comes around the desk and strides across the spotless hardwood floor, leading us to the elevator. Rhys follows, still tapping away on his phone with a glare. Just how bad is the situation with Ohimesama?
A couple of uniformed concierge employees bow in perfect unison as we pass by. I nod at them, a little awkward and self-conscious about the refined formality.
The receptionist scans her card on the elevator’s reader, then presses the button for the highest floor designated for occupancy, right below the fitness center, the pool and a lounge.
The interior of the elevator is all smoky gray with a hint of silver and gold accents—with the print of Mt. Fuji etched into the metallic wall.
The doors open to a spacious waiting area. She gestures at us to follow her down a wide corridor covered with plush dark-plum carpet. The walls are covered with a vivid forest-green wallpaper that has decorative gold veins designed to look like textured marble.
At the end of the hall, she swipes her card again to unlock massive double wooden doors, then inserts it into a holder. The lights come on automatically, just enough to give the place a lovely glow. The city glitters with brightly lit buildings and traffic on the other side of the enormous windows.
“Please enjoy your stay. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call us. We’ll have the champagne brought up shortly if it isn’t here yet.”
“Thank you,” Rhys says. “But you can hold the champagne until later if you don’t mind. It’s late, and with the jet lag, I just want to grab a shower and crash for the night.”
“Certainly, sir.” She disappears quickly and discreetly.
“Good night, Max. See you tomorrow morning at seven sharp,” he says to me, then slips inside and shuts the door.
“Wait!” I swipe my card and open it back up.
He turns and cocks an eyebrow. “Why do you have a key to my room?”
“Not your room. Our room.”
“Our room?” He frowns. “You mean we’re sharing this?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to your room?” His tone says, This is most definitely not the firm’s travel policy.
“Weren’t you listening?”
“Listening to what?”
I do my best to contain a sigh. “There was a mix-up. There’s only one room.”
His eyes glint. “Oh. So that’s how it is? We have to share this one room?”
He’s enjoying this way too much. Probably still peeved that I declined his request to fake-date. How petty. “Not my choice. The hotel messed up.”
“Uh-huh. I thought you were turning down the fake girlfriend position?”
“I was. I am.” I inhale deeply—sadly, it’d be illegal to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze.
“This suite is called ‘Grand Imperial,’ so there should be plenty of space to crash—” I swallow the rest. Our suitcases are already in the corner, so that’s good, but this space is just…
too small. Completely insufficient to justify the grandeur of the name.
Tokyo real estate is pricey, but surely they can do better than this!
“Unless you have a titanium neck and spine, I doubt it.” Rhys taps his foot on the dark floor experimentally. “Hardwood. Not comfortable.”
“Well. The couch is—”
“That thing?” He points.