Stealing the Heart of Mr. Steele

[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.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

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?

I pull on his arm. "Let's just go," I look over my shoulder at the concierge. "We can find somewhere more, accommodating."

"Nonsense," Atlas grumbles. "I want this man to look through his computer and give us the room we asked for. It is on a first come-first served basis unless someone has already paid in full for the reservation."

Atlas pulls out his phone and scrolls through the computer records using his access to the remote server. "I can see that the Princess Suite, Imperial Suite, and Presidential Suite are all currently available and," he laughs "Unless I am mistaken, it takes approval from top

no

management before the price of the room changes," Atlas growls. "Last time I checked the Imperial Suite was only $750 per night AND you get a discount for booking more than 5 nights."

The concierge flips the hair out of his eyes and returns Atlas' scowl. "I don't know where you are getting your information, sir," he gives us both a very skeptical look. "But 'd advise you to leave the lobby now or I'lleall security."

Atlas raises a single eyebrow, daring them to try it. "Fine," he looks at them both. "Try it. But I hope you have a good lawyer."

He picks up the desk phone and begins to dial. "Steve, we have a situation."

A few minutes later a confident man with a badge comes up to the main desk. When he sees the two of us he smiles. "Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Steele. Did you need help with your bags? An escort to your room?" The concierge goes from smug to scared quicker than it takes to say "You're fired."

Atlas gives him a very pointed look. Nothing else needs to be said.

Slowly the concierge hands the key to the Imperial Suite to Atlas. "Free of charge, of course, sir."

"Have your desk cleared by the end of the day," Atlas smiles as he watches the man blanch. "We can't have employees treating guests so poorly."

The concierge doesn't say anything. He just nods and looks down.

As we walk away I whisper to Atlas, "You could have just told him, you know. You set him up and then you fired him."

He shakes his head. "That guy

deserved to be let go. It shouldn't have mattered what we looked like. Celeberies travel incognito all the time. I knew a sheik from Dubai who always went to hotels dressed like he just stepped out of a thrift store. Imagine if someone like him came here and got the wrong idea about our family hospitality due to an asshole like him."

Atlas smiles as the elevator opens. "Besides," he admits. "It was fun."

"Fun!" I throw my hands up in the air.

"Yes," he steps closer as the elevator closes. "And this will be fun too."

Leaning into me, he kisses me with so much passion I see stars.