Genevieve should have known better.
Preston wasn’t the man to pay for only one room for the both of them in the grand, five-star hotel, but a part of her had been eagerly hoping just maybe, maybe he would be that inconsiderate. She suppressed a sigh of disappointment when he turned away from the receptionist desk and handed the key to her own room to her. She took if from him, mumbling an inaudible “thank you” and they took the elevator to the fourth floor.
Preston was itching to say something to her on the ride up. His palms were sweaty and he had to constantly rub them against his trousers until the elevator doors parted open. A young man, the hotel porter, approached them and bowed slightly like Preston was some sort of royalty. In the modern-day society, Preston guessed the extremel
