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Chapter 1
“Bonjour Mademoiselle, comment puis-je t’aider.”
This was my moment. I had been practicing my schoolgirl French from Charles de Gaulle Airport to the hotel in the taxi.
“Parlez vous anglais?” Apart from asking someone their name and telling them mine in French, it was the only phrase I’d taken from my four years of compulsory French lessons in highschool.
“Yes, Madam, but something in your accent tells me you are not from England.”
“No, I’m Irish… from Dublin,” I replied, bristling with frustration that he thought I was English.
“Bien a Celt!” he exclaimed, looking pleased with himself.
I shuffled, grinning, but became shy for a moment, temporarily lost for words because I was uncomfortable in opulent grand surroundings.
“Please, can you call Mr. Fontaine’s suite for me?”
When his smile suddenly vanished, I sensed something changed in his demeanor.
“Ah.” His eyes narrowed and his face became stern. His gaze drifted over his shoulder. Turning to see what had caught his eye, I realized he had silently communicated to the doorman. As he walked in our direction, I guessed the guy in the fake military uniform doubled as security.
“I’m here to attend a concert of the band, DistRoyed,” I babbled nervously as I tried to engage him again with a wide smile, I’d hoped appealed to his better nature. Bernard, the concierge, I’d learned from his shiny gold name badge, offered me a piercing stare as he studied me further.
“Please, call Jamie, he’s expecting me.”
“If… Mr. Fontaine was here… and I’m not saying this is the case, it is not our policy to disclose that information. We value our guests’ anonymity. You almost had me convinced a guest who may or may not be in residence was expecting you.”
“Bernard,” I drawled in my most placating voice; a tone I used every weekend on drunks who spoiled for fights in my pub, “You’ve misunderstood me. I’m checking in to this hotel for the next three nights. I believe you’ll find that Jamie is a guest in your Presidential suite.”
Bernard glanced at his computer screen, while he tapped away at the keyboard until something clicked and he scoffed.
Wagging his finger at me, he laughed haughtily. “Oh, you are good, you tried to fool me into disclosing our guest list.”
“Good? What exactly am I good at?” I’d grown tired of his condescending manner. “Listen, either you inform Jamie and let him know I’m here or fetch your manager.”
The concierge stood still with his hands spread out flat on the desk like he was contemplating leaping over and dragging my arse outside. Focusing his gaze, it drilled into mine. His aim to unnerve me, I suspected, and when he understood I wasn’t backing down, he exhaled out an exasperated sigh.
“Un moment s'il vous plaît… Wait here,” he warned, clarifying from French to English as he slid a door aside on the wall behind the reception desk a large office behind it came into view.
Taking out my cell; I texted Jamie.
Me: At the desk, and the concierge won’t tell you I’m here. I can’t come up to you. He’s refusing to acknowledge you’re here.
Jamie: WTF. Just a sec. I’ll call down.
Seconds later, I heard the front desk phone ring and stop. I guessed it had been answered somewhere in the back where Bernard had gone.
Moments later he came with an immaculately dressed, attractive woman in a business suit, trailing after him. He stopped opposite and gestured like I was an exhibit in a museum and he was the tour guide. Without speaking, he shot me a sheepish glance and left his female colleague to assist me while he moved on to another guest who had been standing patiently behind me.
“Bonjour Mademoiselle Fontaine, I am Helena, the duty manager. I would like to apologize on behalf of the hotel for any misunderstanding.” I immediately guessed the call I’d heard being answered had indeed been from Jamie. From the way the concierge hung his head, Jamie had obviously given him a roasting over the phone.
“My staff and I are available at your disposal to meet your every need. Your husband informed us you had arrived.”
I almost corrected her twice, once when she’d addressed me as Fontaine and the second when she’d called Jamie my husband, but I guessed Jamie had exaggerated my importance and made them feel bad for how they had treated me.
“I can only apologize for my colleague’s mistake. Come, I will show you to your suite.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather you gave me directions. I’ll manage fine on my own.”
