Chapter 14: The Ritz
Now, standing in the lobby of the Ritz Paris, Jordan watched Martina’s face as she took in the opulence around them.
Marble columns that had witnessed a century of history.
Crystal chandeliers that had illuminated princes and presidents.
Floors so polished you could see your reflection.
“There’s been a problem with the reservations,” the concierge said in perfect English.
His expression was apologetic.
“We have you confirmed for one suite, Mr. Blackwell, but the second suite you requested is unavailable. There’s a Fashion Week event, and we’re completely booked.”
“I can arrange accommodation at the George Vā”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jordan said.
He was very aware of Martina’s sharp intake of breath beside him.
“The suite is large enough. We’ll manage.”
“Mr. Blackwell.”
Martina’s voice was low. Dangerous.
“A word in private.”
They stepped away from the concierge desk, and Jordan braced himself for her anger.
Instead, when she spoke, her voice was exhausted.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying,” he said simply.
“Badly, apparently. But trying.”
“Trying to what? Seduce me? Manipulate me? Prove something to Marcus?”
Her eyes searched his face, looking for the truth he’d spent five years hiding.
“I can’t do this, Jordan. I can’t play games with you. Not anymore. Not when I’ve spent five years loving you and being invisible.”
The words hit him like a physical blow.
Five years.
She’d loved him for five years.
And he’d been too blind. Too proud. Too terrified to see it.
“I’m not playing games,” Jordan said, his voice raw.
“I’m trying to fix the biggest mistake of my life. And if that means sharing a suite in Paris because I deliberately told them to book only one, then yes, I’m guilty.”
“But I’m not trying to seduce you, Martina. I’m trying to give us time. Space. A chance to talk without office walls and professional boundaries and Marcus Ashford’s goddamn roses between us.”
She stared at him.
Her eyes wide. Vulnerable. Beautiful.
“You deliberately booked one suite.”
“Yes.”
“That’s manipulation.”
“Yes.”
“That’s completely inappropriate.”
“Completely.”
She stopped.
Something that might have been a laugh escaped her lips.
“That’s the most honest thing you’ve said to me in five years.”
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