“And now you want me to move to another hotel?”
“Yes, I’m afraid we have no more rooms available. However, this new hotel is much nicer and your room will be a suite, at no additional cost of course,” he adds. “In fact, the first two nights will be on us to compensate for this unfortunate—”
“What hotel am I being moved to?” I ask in a curt tone.
“La Mer.”
The name means nothing to me, as lah-dee-dah as it sounds. It’s probably a sister hotel to this one, and probably not as nice as he’s making it out to be, suite or no suite. Still, two nights free is nothing to scoff at. I may need all forty days here in Monte Carlo.
“We have a car, also at no cost, waiting to drive you to La Mer. Again, Madame, I apologize for this unfortunate inconvenience.”
“It’s fine,” I say dismissively. “Can you give me a moment to gather my belongings?”
“Oui, of course, Madame,” he says with palpable relief, smoothing his brow, which looked like it was on the verge of creating a permanent crease of worry.
Once he’s gone, I use the time to think instead. Is this a coincidence? Maybe it is just a simple misunderstanding. Hotels fill up quickly, and summer in Monte Carlo has to be a popular time to visit.
I can’t imagine Magnus Reinhardt having anything to do with this, not after one boat ride. How would he know where I was staying? Even if he did suspect me of anything, why would he have the hotel put me someplace better rather than just send me packing to fend for myself?
I feel a headache coming on, probably from all the sun and alcohol I was exposed to earlier. If not for this little interruption, I’d probably be thinking about a nice warm bath or just falling onto the bed to sleep it off.
But I have to change hotels.
I sigh and grab the suitcase. When I open the door, I’m surprised to see the manager still standing there. He must really want me gone, especially if the sudden smile on his face is any indication.
I dismiss his offer to wheel my luggage down for me. The car idling out front is a black Cadillac Escalade, which seems a bit…much. Especially, when I discover that the ride is only about ten minutes.
But oh what a difference those ten minutes make.
The huge circular driveway in front of the hotel surrounds a fountain that at least a few wannabe Instagram influencers are posing in front of. Considering the spectacular view of the Mediterranean beyond it, I’m not surprised.
The hotel itself looks like Atlantis risen from the ocean and is probably as large. A whitewashed stone facade greets me as I exit the door the driver has just opened for me. My eyes are drawn to the columned balconies above, wondering what opulence lies beyond those French doors.
A bellboy who seems to be specifically assigned to me is already waiting, greeting me with a smile as he insists on handling my lone piece of luggage.
The massive entrance, which is too grand to simply be called a foyer or even a lobby, looks like something out of the Palace of Versailles. Marble flooring beneath me and gold-leaf trim lining the ceiling.
In the center of the subdued hustle and bustle of the wealthy clientele stands a large round table with an impossibly grand floral display. A swirl of white orchids loop around the base of a vase, which holds a floral figure of a mermaid seeming to rise out of a swell of flowers. Whoever created it, turned what would probably look tacky under normal circumstances into something mesmerizing.
I’m still staring at it in awe when a man in a suit approaches me. “Madame Alexander?”
I blink and slowly turn to him. “Yes?”
A gracious smile spreads on his face. “I am Neville, a personal concierge here at La Mer. We are so pleased to have you at our hotel. I was sorry to hear about the circumstances, but we do have your suite ready if you would please follow me?”
I just nod, slightly surprised at how obliging everyone is being. It must have been an inconvenience on their part to so quickly accommodate me. If the Papillon is completely booked, surely this place must be just as full? I look around at the ambiance, which practically screams “unaffordable” and realize that they cater to two completely different types of clientele.
I follow Neville, and the bellboy follows me toward the bank of elevators. It only occurs to me once we’re in the elevator that I haven’t even officially checked in at the front desk. Did the people at the Papillon just send them my information?
“Is La Mer part of the same hotel family as the Papillon?” I ask, mostly to try and fit all this together.
Neville stares for a moment, then gives me a gracious, but slightly patronizing smile. “Non, madame.”
I wrinkle my brow in confusion. Before I can ask any more questions, we’ve reached the floor I’m staying on. I briefly glance at the row of buttons to find we’re exiting on the penthouse level. That’s enough to keep me frozen in place, even as Neville and the bellboy exit.
They look back at me expectantly, Neville holding the elevator doors as they begin to close on me.
“Madame?”
“Are you sure this is the floor I’m on?”
“Of course,” he says with a smile.
I slowly walk out and follow them to the end of the hall, where a set of double doors awaits. Neville uses the key card and opens both doors with a flourish.
I gasp in surprise.
“Welcome to Le Grande Suite,” he says proudly.
The ten-euro bill I had prepared for the bellboy seems wildly inadequate considering what greets me, and I search my purse for more to add to it. He
