Stealing the Heart of Mr. Steele novel Chapter 136

[Cordelia]

When we stumble into the lobby of the Steele Imperial Hotel and Spa, I was expecting Atlas to go straight to the manager and demand the Presidential Suite.

I was expecting the concierge to bow when Atlas walked in and offer us the room on a silver platter. Atlas is, after all, the owner and even if he weren't, Atlas Steele tends to get that kind of treatment wherever he goes. He just has to give people his winning smile and flash his unlimited platinum card.

What I wasn't expecting was to be shunned. Not again. Not like before.

But when I saw the snarl on the face of the concierge as he finally notices us waiting at the front desk, and he marches up to us like a man on a mission, I know that's exactly what is going to happen.

This man intends to kick us out.

As he gets closer I see he is the same guy who stopped me all those months before, thinking I was a homeless woman instead of the wife of Atlas Steele.

"Excuse me, sir," he looks me up and down, "Miss. We think you might be more comfortable at the hotel across the street." He gestures towards the 4-star chain hotel which, while nice, is nothing like this place.

I can't blame him for the mistake he is making. We are both wet and covered in mud. My makeup is smeared down my face and his hair almost looks brown with how dirty and wet it is.

Neither one of us looks anything like ourselves--a feeling that is both weird and refreshing at the same time. We just look like two travelers caught in the rain.

We don't even look particularly wealthy.

"I disagree," Atlas shakes his head. "We'd like the honeymoon suite if you don't mind," Atlas doesn't smile, he just stands there, looking at the man down his nose as if expecting him to budge. "If you'll excuse us."

"I don't think so, sir." He stands his ground. "The Honeymoon Suite is currently taken."

"Oh," Atlas shrugs, still not smiling. To the outside observer, he looks calm and collected, but I've come to understand the subtle, stages of Atlas' rage. Right now he is at a low simmer, but if this continues much longer it will boil over. "That's fine. Any suite will do."

"All the suites are taken," he sneers, "Except for the Imperial Suite. It is $2,000 per night."

Atlas doesn't even blink. "We'll take that one then. We'll need it for the week."

The week! Is he mad? $14,000 spent just to prove a point?