Page 66 of Triple Threat

“Ah.” Roan nodded. “Wearestill speaking on the same man.”

I took in a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly.

“Yeah, well, fuck it. Let him stew. We’ll deal with it tonight.”

Roan drank in my features, that smile never quite diminishing. The way he looked at me felt… cozy. I liked it. I liked him, Lord did I like him. I leaned forward and kissed him and he kissed me back.

“Actually, I thought we might stay in DC tonight. Let him stew until tomorrow night.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he countered, and he opened his car door.

I smiled to myself, relieved to spend time away from the mansion and its many cameras and out from under Kyle’s thumb. Roan opened my door before I could think to reach for the handle, and switching his cane to his other hand, held down his hand for me. I stared at it for half a heartbeat, warmed, and took it, letting him leverage me up out of my seat.

The elevator was unremarkable down here in the garage, I’d slept in one or two just like it before being roused by security guards and kicked out before the worker bees returned to whatever building. When the doors opened up into the marble and baroque lobby of the hotel, I gasped.

“Roan, what are we doing here?” I breathed overwhelmed.

“Staying the night; having a spot of breakfast before we shop. Come on now, you belong here with me… to feel or act any different would be chumming the waters. Look sharp, Poppet.”

I stood a little straighter as Roan tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and strode into the lobby full of light and dark marble, filled with golden light. The ceiling was high and made of milky glass, the natural light from out of doors shining through it.

I tried not to gawk but it was hard, as Roan stepped up to the front desk with me and said crisply, “Reservation for Frederick Alexander Brett if you please.”

“Why hello, Mr. Brett. Identification, please?” the plucky well-made woman behind the counter asked. She was a tall, beautiful, and leggy blonde without a hair out of place, her uniform tailored to her model and statuesque figure. I felt out of place with my plain street clothes that were very middle class amidst all of this opulence.

I looked to Roan who produced a wallet from the inside of his overcoat and handed the woman his license. She scanned it, looked up at him, and beamed as she cross checked her computer monitor hidden below the counter’s wrap.

“Will you be needing any help up to your pearl suite accommodation today? Any bags?”

“Ah, no. That is quite the point of this trip I am afraid,” he said as he returned his wallet to his coat. “Shopping.”

“I see, and would you like to have a personal shopper sent up today, compliments of the hotel, of course.”

“Yes, quite! Perhaps after brunch?”

“Of course, will you be dining in the restaurant or…?”

“Yes, I believe that would be preferable.”

“Of course.” She smiled and picked up the phone and said something too low for me to hear into it. She looked back up to Roan and smiling said, “They’re expecting you.”

“Thank you,” he murmured and led me away from the desk and across the lobby to the doorways leading to the hotel’s restaurant. The Aurora Room emblazoned in gilt letters above the open double doors.

Someone actually rushed out to meet us.

“Mr. Brett?”

“Yes.”

“Right this way, please.”

We were ushered to a hushed corner of the floor, ensconced in a booth cut off from the rest of the restaurant.

“Would you care for a menu or…?”

“Ah, no, I believe I promised the Mrs. crepes for breakfast, which we haven’t gotten to as of yet. A mimosa for my lady and a coffee for me.”

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