Grace's POV
"That—" I felt heat creep up my cheeks, unwilling to reveal the true reason to this woman. Instead, I fabricated a story, "We argued last night, so I refused to share a room with him. He's probably unreachable because he must have drowned his sorrows in alcohol after our dispute."
Seeing the concierge's reluctance to comply with my request, I adopted a more commanding tone, "Just hand over the key card. I'll handle any consequences if he becomes angry with you or the staff."
The concierge wavered briefly before surrendering to my demands, clearly wanting to avoid any potential drama I might create.
She passed me the key card along with the room number, "Please keep things quiet outside the suite, Ma'am."
I gave a dismissive nod, slipping the card into my pocket before heading toward Carlos's presidential suite.
I assumed Carlos had gotten thoroughly intoxicated and passed out cold, meaning I'd have to rouse him for our morning departure.
