Two bellmen were standing beside the desk.
Neither was busy.
The man’s wife sat in a wheelchair just inside the revolving door.
Roland watched.
He did nothing.
Naomi walked over.
“Do you need help?”
The man looked embarrassed.
“Apparently.”
Naomi took one suitcase.
A bellman finally moved.
Roland immediately snapped, “Daniel.”
The bellman stopped.
“Finish the Laurent departure first.”
Naomi turned.
Mr. Laurent—the young man upgraded the night before—was nowhere in sight.
His luggage, however, had been placed neatly near the entrance.
Three employees were waiting for him.
Naomi looked at Roland.
“You have three employees waiting for one man who hasn’t arrived, and none available for a woman in a wheelchair.”
Roland’s face reddened.
“This isn’t your concern.”
The lobby became quiet.
Naomi set the suitcase down.
“What exactly is my concern, Mr. Price?”
“Your stay.”
“What kind of stay?”
“Excuse me?”
“The kind where I pay and remain invisible?”
“Ms. Reed—”
“The kind where I don’t ask why some guests get three employees while others get none?”
Roland walked toward her.
“I think we’ve tolerated enough disruption.”
Naomi didn’t move.
He lowered his voice.
“You have complained about your reservation, your room, breakfast, and now another guest’s arrangements.”
“Correct.”
“If you’re unhappy here, I can arrange accommodation elsewhere.”
Several employees looked toward him.
Mara had appeared beside the hallway leading to the service elevators.
Naomi saw her.
Roland didn’t.
“You want me to leave?” Naomi asked.
“I think that would be best.”
“For whom?”
“For everyone.”
Naomi studied him.
Then she glanced at the clock.
7:46 a.m.
“Not yet.”
His eyebrows drew together.
“What does that mean?”
“I have a meeting at eight.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“With whom?”
Naomi picked up the elderly man’s suitcase again.
“You, actually.”
At 7:58, the doors of the Bellwether Ballroom opened.
Roland Price entered quickly.
He had changed his jacket.
Behind him came the director of guest services, the food and beverage manager, two regional executives from Asterion Hospitality and a brand consultant Naomi recognized from photographs.
At the far end of the room stood a long table.
Folders had been arranged at each chair.
Coffee was waiting.
A screen displayed a corporate presentation.
Everyone was preparing for what Roland believed would be another management review.
Then Naomi walked in.
Still carrying her small black handbag.
Roland stopped.
“What are you doing here?”
No one answered.
One of the regional executives turned pale.
Naomi walked toward the head of the table.
Roland stepped in front of her.
“This meeting is private.”
“Yes,” Naomi said. “It is.”
“Then you need to leave.”
The regional executive finally found his voice.
“Roland.”
Roland turned.
“What?”
The man stared at Naomi.
“That’s Naomi Reed.”
“I know her name.”
“No.”
The executive’s face had become almost gray.
“You don’t understand.”
Naomi pulled out the chair at the head of the table.
The room fell silent.
The regional executive continued.
“She’s chair of Reed Meridian Capital.”
Roland blinked.
Naomi removed her coat and placed it over the chair.
Reed Meridian Capital was the investment group that owned the Bellwether Grand property.
Asterion Hospitality did not own the hotel.
It managed it.
And the contract allowing it to do so expired at noon.
Naomi sat down.
Roland did not.
For several seconds, he simply stared at her.
“You…”
“Yes.”
“You own the hotel?”
“The property company owns it.”
Her voice remained calm.
“I control the property company.”
Nobody moved.
Naomi opened the folder in front of her.
“Please sit down.”
Roland slowly took a chair.
The regional executives followed.
Naomi looked around the table.
“This meeting was originally scheduled to discuss renewal of Asterion Hospitality’s management agreement for another ten years.”
She closed the folder.
“That agenda has changed.”
The brand consultant leaned forward.
“Ms. Reed, I’m sure whatever happened can be explained.”
“Excellent.”
Naomi placed the staff checklist on the table.
“Explain this.”
Silence.
Roland stared at it.
The consultant looked away.
Naomi pointed toward the handwritten codes.
“V-one. V-two. V-three. Explain them.”
No one spoke.
“Last night,” Naomi continued, “my confirmed executive reservation was manually cancelled. I was told no comparable accommodation was available while another guest received a complimentary presidential upgrade.”
Roland opened his mouth.
Naomi raised one hand.
“You’ll have time.”
He stopped.
“This morning, two available bellmen were prevented from assisting a guest using a wheelchair because they were waiting for the luggage of a preferred guest.”