Nick had insisted that he needed his top paralegal on this case, and when they got to the hotel reception desk, Aubrey was starting to understand why. Four high-profile clients were suing
Le Blanc,
New York's most exclusive luxury hotel, for discrimination.
Le Blanc's
paper trail was spotless, and if they were going to find anything to help them leverage their clients' claims, they needed to do some digging themselves. Not as lawyers, of course, but under the inconspicuous guise of
Le Blanc's
typical clientele.
And whether Nick liked to admit it or not, he needed to be classed-up a little bit if they were even going to make it through the front door.
Luckily, the doorman, dressed in sleek black with an intercom coiling out of one ear, appraised Aubrey in her tight-fitted dress with shaded eyes. He nodded and let them pass.
Nick whistled through his teeth. "Jesus. Look at this place."
The lobby opened upwards, all glass walls and high ceilings. A fountain spat a stream of water into the air, two glistening dolphins intertwined. Gold-flecked tile clipped under Aubrey's heels.
She squeezed Nick's arm and lowered her voice. "Don't look too starstruck, or I've got a feeling they're going to throw us out just like our clients."
"I've got a feeling they're going to throw us out if we
breathe
funny."
"Relax. Let me take the lead."
"Oh, you don't think I'm classy enough to handle it? I can be classy, Aubrey."
"Sure, Nick." She nudged him playfully. In spite of Nick's undeniable charm, there were still places he couldn't blend into as easily. Aubrey's upbringing had given her a leg up on him in this respect. "I'll take the lead."
Painting on a bright smile, Aubrey tugged Nick over to the reception desk. A man with gray-tinged hair pulled into a bun glanced up from tapping at a keyboard. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Santiago." His voice was gravel-smooth.
Of course Nick had fabricated a cover for them, and of course he'd decided they would be a married couple--without asking for her input. It was probably the right move, but she was still pissed he hadn't given her any warning about it. She shot him a pointed look, which he ignored.
"Yep," Nick said, clearing his throat. "That's us." He tapped his fingers on the marble counter, looking absentmindedly at the large, blank-faced clock to the right of the reception desk.
Fine, she could play along. And if she played along so well that Nick regretted the whole endeavor, that was just an added benefit. "Yes!" She butted in, nudging Nick to the side. "I don't know if you know this, Mr.--" She glanced at his nameplate--"Rosen, but we're actually on our honeymoon."
Mr. Rosen frowned slightly, and Nick's grip tightened around Aubrey's arm. She jabbed him with her elbow, loosening his hold.
The receptionist tapped a few keys. "Funny, I didn't see anything in your reservation notes... But no matter. It would be our honor to upgrade you to our honeymoon suite."
"That just sounds wonderful," Aubrey crooned in her most sugary-sweet voice. "Doesn't it, honey?"
"Wonderful," Nick said, tight-lipped.
"Oh, and if you wouldn't mind," Aubrey said, leaning over the receptionist's counter and batting her eyelashes, "we'd like a bottle of your most expensive wine sent up to our suite."
"Of course, Mrs. Santiago. Welcome to
Le Blanc.
"
-
Once the hotel room door clicked shut, Nick spun on her. "What the hell was that?"
"What, were you a little bit
caught off guard,
Nick? You could have at least told me we were
married.
" It was a sore subject, and he knew it. He'd mentioned the idea of an engagement three weeks ago at dinner, and she'd ended the night early. It was a possibility that had always loomed ahead of them, but she wasn't ready to consider it just yet.
Nick pulled off his gray suit jacket and threw it onto the back of a chair in the dining area, where a glass table faced a wide balcony overlooking the glittering skyline below. "I thought that was sort of implied, Aubrey."
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize my only purpose here was to be quiet and look pretty on your arm."
Nick groaned, rolling his neck. He reached for her hands, but Aubrey tugged them away and crossed her arms. "You know that's not why I asked you to come."
Aubrey's jaw twitched. She shook a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Oh, right. Because without me, they wouldn't even let you through the door."
"Is that what you think of me, or what your dad thinks of me?"
She seethed silently. He had no right to bring her father into this. He wasn't the one trying to dictate the terms of her life. Not this time, at least. Everyone had an opinion on what she should be doing with her future, and hers seemed to hold the least weight.
"Look, Aubrey. I can't do this without you. You know more about the case than I do."
She scoffed. "Bullshit. You memorized those files inside and out."
He smiled apologetically. In spite of herself, Aubrey felt herself softening as he pulled her closer. It was hard for her to stay mad at him very long, with his boyish features and those devilish blue eyes, and his unkempt blond hair standing up in spikes. She reached out instinctively to flatten them against his scalp.
"Come on, Bri. You're telling me you don't want to enjoy this?"
He backed through the dining room and toward the two floor-to-ceiling doors that opened into the bedroom, revealing a lush, canopied king. He threw himself onto it, flopping on his back. She couldn't help but laugh at the way his tie flew up and landed over his face, which he blew out of the way.
"C'mere."
She climbed onto the soft mattress, settling over him. "I guess we're not going to be getting much sleep," she chucked, and Nick pulled her down into a kiss.
-
After warming up the bed, they had to make up for lost time. A cursory exploration of the lobby revealed nothing of interest, and neither did the second-floor conference rooms or ballroom--although they did manage to swipe a couple of drinks from catering. At the end of the hall on the third floor, they hit a wall. A wall, actually, with a door displaying the manager's name on a gold-embossed placard. "Daniel Brandt," it read.
"If we're going to find anything, it'll be in that office." Back in their room, Nick had case files spread out all over the bed. The sky had darkened outside their window, and the skyline was alight beneath.
"It's not like we can just bust in there and ask for a look around," Aubrey said, pacing. Nick was right. The hotel was clean on the surface, but anything that might explain the canceled reservations--a personal insult to its upscale clientele--was sealed away in records they couldn't reach.
"Right. That's why we're not going to ask." Silently, he pulled something from his pocket. It took Aubrey a moment to identify what he was holding.
"You didn't."
"If anyone asks,
you
don't know where I got it." He flicked the keycard onto the bed and pulled Aubrey in toward him.
"I'm not sure I like where this is going."
"Aubrey..." He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "
Mrs. Santiago...
"--ignoring her eye roll--"You trust me, don't you?"
"I have plenty of reasons not to."
"But...?"
"I'm not cleaning up your mess this time."
"Good. Then
we
won't make one."
-
The keycard worked like a charm, and the door swung open into a wide, darkened office with burgundy carpeting and a sleek black desk. Aubrey checked the hall a final time before pulling the door shut. They were clear for now, but who knew how long that would last?
She flicked on the orbicular desk lamp and ran her hands over its underside, searching for drawers and pockets, but found only smooth wood. Nick studied the minimalist artwork on the walls. He pulled one frame up, leaving a slightly brighter patch of wall beneath. He let out a long breath. "I can't believe this guy. It's like he doesn't spend any time in here."
"Maybe he doesn't." Something had caught Aubrey's eye--the outline of a doorframe along the far wall, almost flush with it. There was no handle, and no light underneath. Just a thin, barely-noticeable seam along the wallpaper. She crossed the office and ran her fingers along the seam, trying to get a grip underneath. Then she pushed her shoulder against it and heard a
click.
Nick flanked her as she stepped into the dark-shrouded room. Bright fluorescent lights flickered on above them, revealing the interior. It was a small, file-filled room with a steel examination table at the center. The sight of it struck the air from Aubrey's lungs. Her throat tightened.
"I didn't know Daniel Brandt had a license to practice medicine," Nick said.
"He doesn't." The air in the room felt still and terse, and she was almost hesitant to break it.
"No?"
"Nick," she sighed, frustrated with his obliviousness. She was going to have to tell him, wasn't she? "Clearly you don't watch very much hardcore German porn."
"And you do?" Nick spun, then looked at the examination table with new eyes. "Woah. Wait, you're saying this is some kind of sex dungeon?"
"Yeah, Nick."
Obviously.
"I'm still hung up on how you know about that."
"It's irrelevant to the case."
"But--"
"If it gets us what we need, what does it matter?" She snapped.
"We're coming back to this later."
"Mhm. Sure."
-
Later came and went while Nick and Aubrey dug through file folders. Nick had pulled up a rolling stool and leaned over a cabinet in the corner of the office, a hand buried in his messy hair. Most of the files seemed to be dumped into the room for storage: old leasing documents, contracts with catering companies, financial records their firm already had access to. Then Nick's eyes widened and he slapped a couple of papers onto the cabinet. He blinked. "They fucked us."
