Page 81 of Forever, Maybe
A fresh-faced lad in a matching green-and-gold uniform, who looked barely old enough to shave, whisked their bags away with an eager smile.
Inside, the sheer opulence made the hefty cost of their stay abundantly clear. Chandeliers sparkled above marble floors, polished wood gleamed in every corner, and staff glided silently, as though their feet never quite touched the ground.
Nell glanced around her. “There’s something about places like this that makes me want to behave very badly.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll check us in. Feel free to start misbehaving whenever you like.”
She punched his arm, playful, then wandered off to snap photos of the building’s iconic gold signage and elegant canopies.
At the front desk, the receptionist smiled warmly as she confirmed their reservation. She handed over two key cards along with a glossy pamphlet outlining restaurant hours, gym facilities and Wi-Fi details.
Taking his credit card, she paused. “Mr Daniel Murray? A message came in for you earlier—at half-past eleven.” She offered him a folded piece of cream hotel notepaper.
Half-past eleven. Not long after he’d left Glasgow. It was probably from Joe or Holly. They’d been the ones to insist he leave his phone behind. But if they’d gone through the trouble of contacting the hotel, it had to be urgent.
He reached for the note, but before he could unfold it, Nell’s voice called out.
“Stay there. I’ll take your picture!”
With a care-free smile plastered across his face, Daniel tucked the note into his jeans pocket. Whatever the message said, it could wait.
Nell joined him in front of the desk, slipping seamlessly into her best David Attenborough impression. “The lesser-spotted Danny Murray,” she murmured. “The holiday version, so rare that only the most skilled wildlife photographer can capture him in his natural habitat…”
She offered the receptionist a conspiratorial wink. “This is our first proper break in ages.”
The receptionist’s professional smile never wavered. “I hope you both have a fantastic stay. May I suggest booking dinner for half-past seven? The restaurant’s always busy.”
Daniel agreed and tugged Nell’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”
In the lift, he glanced at the key card. “We’re in room 158. Supposedly, it’s got a great view of Covent Garden. Did you bring your dookers? There’s a swimming pool in the basement.”
Nell wrinkled her nose. “We’re not going swimming, for God’s sake! Who brings swimwear on a city break?”
Room 158 was at the end of a long, plush-carpeted corridor—far enough from the lift to avoid passing foot traffic.
“Everything okay?” Nell asked as Daniel slid the key card into the lock.
“Aye, fine,” he replied with a grin so over-the-top it screamed,This is my absolutely not thinking about work face.
He opened the door, and they both stopped in their tracks.
“Oh my God,” he said, his tone one of mock awe. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Bloody hell.” Nell whipped out her phone, snapping a picture of the swan painstakingly crafted from white bath towels and proudly displayed on the king-sized bed.
The junior suite was far more than he’d let on. A small living room that housed a vintage gramophone, a flower arrangement so massive it looked like it required scaffolding, a box of chocolates and a bottle of champagne nestled at a jaunty angle in an ice bucket. All of it had cost him a small fortune.
But it was worth it for her reaction. She spun around, joy lighting up her face. “Wow! This is amazing!”
Still, the paper in his pocket burned like a live ember. What on earth had prompted Holly or Joe to contact him? A gas explosion at the Hyndland shop? An armed robbery? If it had been something major, wouldn’t Nell have already seen the news alerts and told him? Or maybe it was a health inspector’s visit leading to the sudden closure of one of his businesses…?
He ran a hand through his hair, the fake smile slipping for a moment.
In the ensuite, Nell’s voice floated back to him, excitement cutting through his thoughts. “L’Occitane toiletries! I’m nicking these when we leave. And you should see the bath. It’s enormous!”
She reappeared, grinning and clutching a pristine bathrobe. “How on earth do hotels get these so white?”
“Magic,” Daniel said solemnly. “It’s the only explanation. Nothing you wash at home comes out half that clean.”
