CHAPTER SIX

DESMOND’S POV

“A room has been booked here for me.” I said once I got to the receptionist, the man behind the counter raised his face from the computer, gave me a quick glance and then turned back to his computer.

“Desmond McCraig?”

“Yes, I am.” I replied impatiently.

I had just returned to Malibu after two years imprisoned in Las Vegas for a murder I don’t regret ordering. I had sent one of my guys in prison to kill off an enemy that trespassed, unfortunately he wasn’t smart enough and got caught by a prison guard, that coward had the guts to mention

my name after what I consider a little torture, snitched on me to the law… Well, fortunately I had made sure there was no record of the conversation so there was no real evidence to lock me up for long. I eventually had that asshole killed by one of the prison guards who owed me a favor.

My family didn’t know about my imprisonment, only my gang members knew and I had instructed them to keep it a secret. No one knew about my return, and I intended to keep it that

way for a while.

“The presidential suite was booked for you, Sir, will you be sharing the room with someone?”

“Do you see me with anyone?” I snapped as he flinched and immediately started working his fingers quickly on the keyboard.

As I waited, I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation next to me between a female receptionist and a blonde haired lady with bob cut. She had been referred to as Mrs Klein and I suddenly wasn’t in a haste to get checked in.

“Your card declined again ma’am.” The receptionist said handing the card back to her, she had a puzzled look on her face, she stared at the card and gave it back to the receptionist.

“That’s impossible, try again.” She urged as she anxiously clicked on her phone screen.

“Ma’am, still declined. I can’t try it again, you should probably call your bank.” The receptionist slid the card back to her.

“Mr McCraig, your room is room 410, the fourth floor.” The male receptionist called my attention from the blonde distressed lady who had just ended a call looking more disappointed. I took my room key card and turned to the lady. “Have a nice stay sir.” The receptionist added.

“Hi…” I said and she looked up at me. She looked worn out, her face quite pale and her eyes

shallow like she had slept for too long or worse case scenario, cried her eyes out. “I would love to pay for your room.” I offered with as much smile as I could produce and handed my card to the receptionist.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that, I will sort myself out.” She replied, signaling the receptionist to give back my card.

“I insist…”

“Please don’t worry about me, I will go somewhere cheaper. Thank you.” She flashed me a warm appreciative smile and pulled her luggage, I gently held her hand.

“Give me a chance to pay, these bags look heavy and you look like you’ve had a long day, you

deserve a room service.” I urged, she stared at me thoughtfully for a few seconds and then slowly nodded.

“Thank you.”

I turned back to the receptionist. “She will be staying at the presidential suite, fourth floor.” “You booked the last presidential suite in the fourth floor, Sir.”

“What’s the next best?”

“The standard suite is great, Sir.” I turned to the lady for confirmation she shrugged indifferently. “She will take it… Oh and the bags, she needs help with them.”

After the check in completed and the key card was handed over, we headed to the fourth floor via an elevator, the hallway was distantly stretched out but with only 6 rooms, 3 on each side and

hers was farther from mine than I wanted.

I stood beside my door with my little suitcase on the floor watching as the bellboys rolled her

luggage in with the bell cart, she stood with her arms wrapped around her like she was cold, she was possibly cold as she was wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit. She turned her eyes to me and a weak smile spread on her lips, she waved I nodded and waved back.

I wanted to approach her, I wanted to know her name, but I had done enough invading for a day. I watched her go inside after the bellboys came out, once she shut her door I entered mine.

I settled my suitcase on the floor and went into the bathroom. The last time I had my personal

space was difficult to recall, I had a quick bath, wrapped a white towel around my waist, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and lighter as I headed for the balcony.

Mrs Klein… That was what the receptionist called her. I was very familiar with the Klein’s, their family and mine have an unpleasant history and a rivalry that would never be resolved.

I went back inside with a stick of cigarette lit between my lips, I took a quick drag as I picked my

phone from the bed and dialed Lloyd… My personal assistant at the company who also gets involved once in a while with the thirteen’s mafia business.

“Good evening, Boss?” He greeted, his voice sounding a bit surprised as I hadn’t communicated with him in months.

“I need the photo of Leonard Klein’s wife and her name.” I ordered and took another drag from my cigarette, blowing the white smoke into the air.

“Oh? Is that all sir?” He asked and I ended the call.

I walked to the mini bar at the living room and poured myself a glass of booze, the notification chimed, I clicked on the message and there she was, smiling at the camera next to him, her hair was longer in the photo so clearly it was taken months or years ago. Another text popped up.

“Rhea Wexford Klein…” I read out loud.

Who was she? How did they meet? I haven’t heard of a Wexford family in Malibu, and why was she in a hotel without him, looking drenched in melancholy?

I had woken up the next morning with her name the first thing that came to mind, I checked the time on my phone and it was 7:31am, I punched some numbers on the telephone.

“Good morning, I would like early breakfast platter sent to room 407.” I ordered letting out a muffled yawn.

“The lady in room 407 just checked out a few minutes ago, Sir.”