Page 137 of The Girlfriend Clause
Sharing a room with him wasn’t possible—not a wardrobe,not a bathroom, and certainly not a duvet, no matter how distractingly well his shoulders filled that jacket.
I glanced at Liam. He was looking at me, unmoving, like he thought I might say something. I had nothing, just a rising sense of heat at the back of my neck.
The lady behind the desk looked from him to me. “This is one of our most requested suites, ma’am—très spacious. I’m sure you will be comfortable there.”
“Yes, thank you.” Liam kept his hand on my back and picked up the room keys, turning back to Bonnie. “Could I have a word? I’ll be right back, Andrea.”
Bonnie and Liam moved a few feet away, deep in discussion. I sank into a nearby chair and pulled out the etiquette guide from Bonnie—something to take my mind off this latest disaster. Stuff about titles, forks, and how enthusiasm is considered socially aggressive.
He had to fix this. I’d almost lost my marbles before, listening through the wall like a madwoman, and we weren’t even in the same room. How the hell was I going to handle being this close to him forthreedays?
After a couple of minutes, Liam walked over. “Andrea, let’s find a quiet place to talk.” He guided us toward a lounge just off the lobby, Bonnie at his elbow. A waiter appeared and set down three tall glasses of sparkling water with slices of lime.
“One room won’t work for me,” I said. “It’s just… it’s not… I can’t—”
Bonnie sipped her drink and leaned back, legs crossed elegantly. “Well. We can hardly march back to the desk and demand separate quarters. Half the Stewart wedding party is milling about in the bar already.”
Liam’s jaw flexed. “It was a mistake, Andrea. I’m sorry.”
“The hotel misunderstood,” Bonnie said smoothly.
Liam fixed a look on her, his eyes cold. “The hotel?”
“I… miscommunicated,” she added, with the barest roll of her eyes. Huh. I guess she didn’t speak French then. Well, that was a relief.
“It’s unfortunate,” said Liam. “And it leaves us rather short on options.”
“It’s less than ideal,” Bonnie said, “but we mustn’t draw attention. If you make a scene, Andrea, everyone will know the whole thing is staged.”
“She isn’t going to make a scene, Bonnie,” said Liam, his voice low. “This is bad form, and you know it.”
Bonnie shifted in her chair.Did I see her cheeks changecolor?
“Perhaps we can make it work, Andrea.” Liam leaned forward. “We’ll have the staff bring in a rollaway. Or I’ll take the couch in the salon.”
My throat felt dry, despite the lime water. “I thought… I assumed we’d have separate spaces. Privacy…”
“So did I.” Liam spoke through tight lips.
“A rollaway works, surely?” Bonnie said. “Please don’t make a fuss. If anyone sees you behaving as if you can’t share a space, they’ll sniff out the truth in seconds.”
Don’t make afuss?
“It’s not that,” I said. “I just—”
“I understand, Andrea. It’s not acceptable.” Liam’s gaze rested on mine. “If we can’t sort something out, we’ll fly you home. Okay?”
“Fly her home, Liam? What are you talking about?” Bonnie’s face had gone white. “We’re so close with Hugo. Something like this could blow the whole thing. It’ll looklike you’ve had a fight, he might think you’re back to your old ways.”
“That won’t be on Andrea. That’ll be on you.”
I felt that feeling again, like when he’d squeezed my shoulder at the college in front of Hugo. Protected.
Was he really prepared to risk the whole thing with Novexia—after everything we’d already done, the prep, the dinner, the Union—just so I didn’t feeluncomfortable?
A waiter arrived with a tray of olives and dips, but nobody touched them. Bonnie uncrossed her legs and looked away, a line forming between her eyes.
“This is serious, Liam,” she said, without looking back. “If Andrea leaves now, you’re taking a real risk.”
