I dialed Inessa’s cell phone number.
“Hi, Max. I…”
“She knows. Angel knows.”
25
ANGEL
Ineeded time on my own, away from Max and everyone else who’d ask me questions about my puffy, tear-stained face. I wasn’t ready to give answers. Hell, I didn’t even have enough information to answer any questions meaningfully.
All I knew was that Max was smuggling drugs into the country for the Russian mob and he was doing it right under my nose. How could he have lied about something that earth-shatteringly stupid? What else was he lying about? My mind took me to the darkest places every time I gave it half the chance.
The receptionist behind the reservations counter of the hotel gave me a once-over when I asked for a room. She was very polite while I filled in my details and paid for the room, but I knew she was likely dying to know why a pregnant woman, who’d clearly been crying, was booking in alone.
“Here you go, Ms. Harris. Your key card. Welcome to our establishment. Room service is open until 10 pm.”
“Thank you,” I said, took the card, and made my way to the elevator.
A little boy was holding onto his mother’s hand. He looked suspiciously at me and then hid behind his mother’s leg. Who could blame the kid? I probably looked like a frightful mess.
The elevator doors opened on my floor. I stepped out and looked for my room number on the doors as I passed by. My room was the one at the end of the hall with a lovely view of the ocean. Not that the view would make the slightest difference to the shitty mood I was in.
I was so upset; I wasn’t even hungry. That almost never happened. But I was feeling poorly and a nutritious salad and steak or something like that would be good for the baby, so I called room service and ordered a meal.
I hadn’t risked going home after I left work to get a change of clothes because the last thing I wanted was to bump into Max. So, I filled the hotel room tub with warm water, and changed into the complimentary robe afterward. I’d buy new clothes in the morning if I still couldn’t go home for fear of succumbing to the urge to scratch Max’s eyes out.
I ignored his call earlier and let it go to voicemail. I was too angry to speak to him, but I knew he’d worry, so I sent a text instead. I felt desperately alone, standing at the window looking out over the ocean.
“It’s okay, Baby,” I said and rubbed my protruding tummy.
I could feel him squirming inside me.
“Yes, Daddy is a jerk. I know. It’s gonna be alright. Mama will sort it out.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Ooh, good news, little guy. Steak.”
I looked through the peephole and saw a waiter with a tray. I opened the door.
“Good evening, Ma’am,” he greeted me with a happy smile.
“Hi. Thanks. Please, put it over there at the window.”
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s lovely.”
“Have a good evening,” he said and headed for the door.
“Thanks. You too.”
I lifted the lid off the plate. The aroma of grilled steak and potatoes smothered in butter got my taste buds raring to go.
“Hhmm, get ready for a taste sensation, Mama's little pumpkin.”
I wasn’t alone. I had my little angel with me. I wondered what he looked like. I couldn’t wait to hold him in my arms.