Page 135 of The Girlfriend Clause
A black-and-gold sign whizzed past on our left, and I glimpsed a word—Château. We turned to the right, the tires crunching over a narrow lane that cut straight into the forest. The outside world vanished, swallowed by towering beeches and oaks rising on either side.Were we almost there?I needed to breathe without Bonnie checking to see if I’d done it right.
What exactly was her problem with me, anyway? I hadn’t done anything wrong yet, had I?Apart from the thing at Novexia when Liam had shown up, and that was hardly my fault. Maybe it was something to do with Kai, but that had been a while ago now. I had no idea. And that was the problem.
At least I could handle myself in France, though. I’d aced my French GCSE roleplay exam on booking a campsite—getting by at the InterContinental would be no bother at all. I was confident in my French.
Liam’s CV hadn’t mentioned a single foreign language, so maybe this was an opportunity to show Bonnie I could do something properly?
New to this kind ofcircle.
Whatever.
The path wound upward, then the trees broke apart.Cream-colored stone spread out in front of us, massive arched windows, balconies dripping with flowers—the kind of place you saw in period dramas. I was sure Liam’s agenda had us going to the hotel first, but perhaps things had changed.
“Château de Chantilly,” I whispered, only to hear Bonnie’s little laugh from the back seat.
“Andrea. This is just the hotel.”
I felt my face get hot. How could this be a hotel?
“No. The sign back there. It saidchâteau…”
“I can assure you it’s not,” she said.
She was right. The neat brass plaque by the gate said: InterContinental Chantilly Château Mont Royal.
“I made the same mistake myself when I first visited.” Liam turned to me and smiled as the car pulled up outside the entry. “In fact, I think Bonnie did too. They put ‘château’ on everything over here, even if it’s just a shed.”
He placed his palm on my knee, the weight of it solid and calming. Maybe I wasn’t the world’s biggest moron after all.
Inside the hotel, the lobby smelled like roses and beeswax. Everything was made of marble. Velvet armchairs were dotted around, and chandeliers the size of my Corolla hung from the high ceilings. An actualpianistwas playing in the corner. I felt like I’d walked onto a film set.
A man in white gloves and a navy uniform whisked our bags onto a trolley, and Liam made to move toward the front desk, his hand on the small of my back like he was guiding me there. He raised his chin toward the woman behind it, about to speak.
“It’s okay, I’ve got this, thank you,” I said.
I turned to the lady at the desk, who was smiling expectantly.
“Bonjour. Je m’appelle Andrea Jones.” Bonnie and Benwere a few feet behind us, Dex hanging back by the entry. “Les chambres pour Monsieur von Roth, s’il vous plaît.” I enunciated every word clearly, then glanced to the right and raised a brow at Liam.
Nailed it.
The woman behind the desk looked at me and smiled.
“Bonjour, Madame. Oui, bien sûr…” A string of rapid-fire French followed. I had no idea what she’d said. The odd word popped out that I could just about recognize, but… crap. It was nothing like my Year 11 roleplay. Had she even understood me?
Liam looked at me. “Should I—?”
I shook my head. “I’m okay, thank you. I speak French.”
Maybechambresdidn’t meanroomsanymore. Maybe it was slang now, like pants? The best option would be to introduce Liam. If she found his name, we should be good.
“Ah… oui,” I said. “Je voudrais m’introduire Monsieur von Roth.”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up.
“Vous voulez…vous introduire…Monsieur von Roth?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice, eyes darting toward a bellhop walking past.
“Oui, Monsieur von Roth.” I pointed at Liam. “S’il vous plaît.” I raised my voice a hair and said it more slowly this time, leaning into the French vowels as hard as I could.
