So he already knew.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My card isn’t working,” he said, like that was the real emergency. “I can’t pay the hotel. Fix it.”
“I can’t fix what I didn’t break,” I replied. “We’ll talk when you’re home.”
“I can’t come home,” he said. “I need—”
“Put me on speaker,” I interrupted.
“What?”
“Speaker. Now.”
A click. Background music. Then Luca’s calm, professional voice.
“This is the front desk.”
“Hi,” I said clearly. “I’m Claire. The cardholder.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Luca replied.
“Can you confirm my husband is staying there?”
“He is registered in room 318.”
“And is he alone?”
A brief pause.
“He has a guest.”
That was all it took.
The woman’s voice snapped, confused and sharp. “Who is this?”
“I’m his wife,” I said.
