The lobby smelled faintly of polished wood and citrus, the kind of expensive scent hotels used to remind you that you were far from home. Amelia walked a few steps ahead of me, the click of her low heels echoing across the marble floor. She looked tired, though she was trying to mask it.
We approached the reception desk, where a young woman in a crisp uniform smiled professionally. “Good morning, Mr. Montgomery,” she greeted, her voice almost too cheerful for the hour. “Welcome to the Brixton Grand hotel.”
I gave her a polite nod. “Good morning. We should have reservations. Edmund Montgomery, and Dr. Amelia Garcia.”
Her fingers flew across the keyboard. I stood there, hands in my pockets, watching the reflection of Amelia on the glossy surface of the counter. She was studying a painting on the wall as if it held the secrets of the universe,probably anything to avoid looking at me.
After a moment, the receptionist frowned slightly. “Mr. Montgomery, I see your suite reservation right here, the executive suite, as requested. But…” She glanced at the screen again, brows knitting. “There isn’t any booking under Dr. Garcia’s name.”
I turned to Amelia, then back to the woman. “That can’t be right. My assistant confirmed both rooms.”
“I’m so sorry, sir.” The woman’s tone softened with genuine regret. “It seems her name wasn’t added to the list. And unfortunately, we’re fully booked at the moment.”
Amelia blinked. “Fully booked?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the receptionist said apologetically. “There’s a medical conference in town. We don’t have any spare rooms tonight.”
Amelia exhaled, her jaw tightening. “There must be something, a cancellation, maybe?”
The woman shook her head. “Nothing at all, I’m afraid. The next available hotel with vacancies is about thirty minutes away.”
I rubbed my temples, fighting the irritation clawing up my chest. I’d trusted Xander, my PA, to handle this. Clearly, that was a mistake.
“Thirty minutes?” Amelia repeated, disbelief flickering across her face. “That’s ridiculous. We have to be up carly for the outreach tomorrow.”
“Exactly,” I murmured.
She turned to me, hands on her hips. “So what now? I can’t exactly sleep in the lobby, Edmund.”
Her use of my name was sharp, pointed. I ignored the small thrill it sent through me.
I glanced at the receptionist. “My suite has two rooms, doosn’t it?”
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Ş7s
75
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She brightened immediately. “Yes, sir. It’s one of our largest, a master bedroom, a second bedroom, and a shared living area.”
Amelia’s eyes widened, instantly catching on. “No. Absolutely not.”
I turned to her, arching an eyebrow. “It’s a practical solution.”
“It’s an insane one,” she snapped quietly. “I can’t share a suite with you.”
I dropped my voice, keeping it calm. “It’s not sharing a bed, Amelia. It’s two separate rooms.”
“That’s not the point,” she said, arms folded. “You’re my boss. This would look… wrong.”
I almost smiled. “Who’s going to see us? The bellhop?”
She glared at me. “That’s not funny.”
I sighed. “Would you rather spend the night thirty minutes away and drive back at dawn?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes darted between the receptionist, the floor, and finally me, that look she got when she was trying to convince herself to be rational.
I softened my tone. “Look, it’s just for tonight. You’ll have your own room. Lock it if that makes you feel better.”
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine,” she muttered. “Just tonight.”
“Of course,” I said, hiding my relief. “Just tonight.”
The receptionist looked between us, smiling too brightly. “Wonderful. We’ll send your luggage up right away.”
As we turned toward the elevator, I caught the faintest whisper of Amelia’s perfume, subtle, clean, and maddeningly familiar. It took everything in me not to remember how it used to linger on my pillow years
ago.
The elevator ride was painfully quiet. She stood on the opposite side, arms crossed, staring at the floor numbers like they’d personally offended her. When the doors opened on the twelfth floor, I gestured for her to go first.
The suite door clicked open with a soft beep, and the moment we stepped inside, she froze.
It was a two–bedroom executive suite, sprawling and sunlit, with floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking the city. A living area sat in the center, tastefully decorated, plush gray couches, glass tables, a vase of white lilies that filled the air with sweetness.
Amelia took a few steps in, scanning the space with cautious curiosity. “This place looks like it costs a fortune.”
“It does,” I said casually, setting down my briefcase. “But the company pays.”
She gave me a pointed look. “Of course it does.”
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The knock at the door interrupted us. A bellhop appeared with our luggage, two large suitcases and my carry- on. I tipped him and thanked him quietly before he disappeared down the hall.
Then, silence.
The kind of silence that hums.
We stood there awkwardly, surrounded by too much space and too many unsaid things.
Amelia fiddled with her sleeve, avoiding my eyes. “Well… I should probably freshen up,” she said finally.
“Right.”
“I’ve been in that car for hours.”
“Of course,” I said again, nodding.
She glanced around. “Which room is mine?”
I opened my mouth to answer but before I could say a word, she grabbed her suitcase, walked straight to the first door on the left, and disappeared inside.
“That’s-” I started, then sighed as the door shut with a decisive click. “my room.”
For a moment, I stood there, running a hand through my hair and letting out a quiet laugh. Typical Amelia, charging headfirst into everything.
I looked around the suite once more. Everything about it screamed distance: separate rooms, separate lives, polite boundaries wrapped in expensive furniture. Yet somehow, it still felt too intimate.
“Guess we’re taking the second one then,” I muttered, grabbing my own bag and walking to the other door.
Inside, the room was slightly smaller but still elegant, dark wood panels, crisp sheets, and a faint citrus scent that matched the lobby downstairs. I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees, staring at nothing.
The day had started too early, and yet my mind wouldn’t slow down.
She was just in the next room.
That thought shouldn’t have meant anything, but it did. I could hear the faint sounds of water running from the bathroom. For some reason, the noise twisted something in my chest.
I leaned back, closing my eyes, remembering the way she’d looked at me downstairs, exasperated but still that same woman who once knew how to make me laugh even on my worst days.
There were a thousand things I wanted to say. None of them were appropriate. None of them were simple.
A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. I straightened immediately.
“Edmund?” her voice came through the door, hesitant.
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Chapter 52
“Yes?”
…
“I, um… I think this room has all your things.”
I smiled faintly. “Because that’s my room.”
Silence. Then a small, embarrassed
:
groan. “Oh my God.”
“It’s fine,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Stay there. I’ll take the other one.”
“No, no, I’ll move. I’ve already-”
“Amelia,” I interrupted gently, “it’s fine. Really.”
A muffled sigh, then, “You could’ve said something sooner.”
“I tried.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“You never do.”
That earned a quiet scoff from behind the door.
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I stood, leaning lightly against the wall, smiling despite myself. “Get some rest,” I said softly. “Tomorrow will be a long day?”
There was a pause before she replied, voice lower this time. “You too.”
For a moment, the distance between our doors felt like a metaphor for everything we’d become, close enough to feel each other’s presence, but separated by choices neither of us could fully undo.
I lay back on the bed eventually, staring at the ceiling, and tried to convince myself that this arrangement was just temporary, that the way my heart raced when she spoke was nothing more than nostalgia.
But even as I drifted into restless half–sleep, her laughter from earlier. The way she’d accused me of “changing the time” echoed softly in my head.
And I knew, deep down, this was far from temporary.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
