He turned toward the lobby.
“Mr. Collins!”
A man in a navy suit emerged from the corridor near the elevators.
Richard Collins, the hotel's general manager, was fifty-three years old. His hair was perfectly styled, his suit immaculate, and his expression permanently arranged into the sort of sternness that made junior employees nervous.
He had spent fifteen years managing luxury hotels.
He believed in discipline, hierarchy, and protecting the reputation of establishments like the Grand Meridian.
“What is it, Daniel?”
Daniel pointed toward Arthur.
“This gentleman claims he's booked the Presidential Suite. His reservation doesn't appear in the ordinary system, and he's presenting some strange payment card.”
Richard looked at Arthur.
His eyes narrowed.
“What seems to be the problem?”
Arthur answered before Daniel could.
“I have a reservation. Your employee is having difficulty locating it.”
Richard extended his hand toward the paper.
Arthur gave it to him.
The manager examined the document.
A few seconds passed.
Then his expression hardened.
“Where did you obtain this?”
Arthur blinked.
“Obtain what?”
“This reservation confirmation.”
“It was sent to me by your office.”
Richard turned the paper over.
The document appeared authentic. It carried the hotel's logo, reservation details, and a signature that resembled his own.
But Richard had never personally approved a reservation under that name.
At least, he didn't remember doing so.
He looked at Daniel.
“Did you verify the reservation?”
“I checked the system.”
Richard turned back toward Arthur.
“Sir, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding.”
“What kind?”
“This reservation is not showing up in our database.”
Arthur nodded.
“That is what your employee told me.”
Richard's voice grew colder.
“Which means we cannot simply give you a room.”
Arthur glanced toward the elevators.
“I understand.”
He looked back at the manager.
“Could you contact whoever arranged it?”
Richard folded the paper.
“I don't think that's necessary.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have no reason to believe this reservation is legitimate.”
Arthur studied him.
For the first time, his expression seemed to change.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
Disappointment.
“I see,” he said.
Richard interpreted the words as surrender.
“I'm sure you'll find somewhere more suitable nearby.”
Daniel smiled.
The elderly man slowly put his wallet away.
Then he picked up his suitcase.
But before he could turn around, a voice came from behind them.
“Mr. Collins?”
A young woman in a dark green uniform hurried across the lobby.
She was Emily Carter, the hotel's assistant director of guest relations.
She carried a tablet in one hand and looked unusually nervous.
“Mr. Collins, I need to speak with you immediately.”
Richard frowned.
“Not now.”
“It's about the Presidential Suite.”
The manager froze.
Daniel's smile faded.
Emily glanced toward Arthur.
Then she looked at the paper in Richard's hand.
“Is this Mr. Bennett?”
Arthur turned.
“Yes.”
Emily's eyes widened.
“Oh, my goodness.”
She stepped forward.
“Mr. Bennett, we've been expecting you.”
The entire reception area seemed to fall silent.
Richard stared at her.
“What?”
Emily ignored him.
She approached Arthur with a genuine smile.
“I'm terribly sorry about the confusion. Your arrival was supposed to be handled personally.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Was it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Emily turned toward Richard.
“The reservation was arranged directly through the chairman's office. It was supposed to be flagged as a private arrival.”
Richard's face changed.
“The chairman's office?”
Emily nodded.
“Mr. Bennett is—”
“That's enough,” Richard interrupted sharply.
Emily stopped speaking.
Arthur watched the manager carefully.
Richard stepped closer to her.
“Can I speak with you privately?”
Emily hesitated.
“But—”
“Now.”
The two moved several feet away.
Daniel stood behind the reception desk, suddenly unsure what to do.
Arthur remained where he was.
The rain continued tapping against the glass doors.
After a moment, Richard returned.
His expression was different now.
Less confident.
More guarded.
“Mr. Bennett,” he said, “I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Do you?”
Richard forced a smile.
“Of course.”
“Then perhaps you can explain why your employee thought I was trying to deceive your hotel.”
Richard glanced at Daniel.
“I'm sure Daniel was simply following procedure.”
Arthur turned toward the young receptionist.
“Is that what you were doing?”
Daniel swallowed.
“I was just trying to verify the reservation, sir.”
“No,” Arthur said quietly. “You were trying to decide whether I deserved to stay here.”
The words landed harder than anyone expected.
Richard's jaw tightened.
“Mr. Bennett, I think we should take this conversation upstairs.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Not yet.”
He placed his suitcase beside the desk.
Then he looked directly at the manager.