Chapter 51 - Emily

**EMILY**

Emily felt every step in her legs as she finally reached the Hotel Excelsior. The walk here had been longer than she had expected, and she was beginning to feel tired. But now that she was standing in front of the majestic building, she couldn’t afford a moment of weakness. The hotel was incredibly impressive - a gleaming facade of white marble with gold accents that shimmered in the evening twilight. A place accessible only to the elite, and that was where she had to go.
*I hope they don’t throw me out again*, she thought, taking a deep breath and entering the lobby.
The interior of the hotel overwhelmed her, as it did every time she was here: high ceilings, huge chandeliers, and the splendor of wealth and elegance reflected everywhere. But Emily had no time to be impressed by the pomp. Her goal was clear: she had to talk to Alexander. But that would not be easy.
The concierge, a slim, elderly gentleman in an immaculate suit, was deep in conversation as she approached the reception desk. But no one paid attention to her, so she was able to approach the desk unhindered. As soon as he finished his conversation, she cleared her throat quietly. He turned to her and asked with a professional smile, “How can I help you, miss?”
“I need to speak with Alexander Fitzpatrick. It’s important,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and persuasive. She knew it was no small feat to get a billionaire like Alexander to pick up the phone, especially in a hotel like this. But she had no choice.
The concierge gave her a scrutinizing look, as if trying to determine if she really belonged. She obviously didn’t pass his test. “Mr. Fitzpatrick doesn’t like to take unscheduled calls. Do you have an appointment?” he asked with polite reserve.
Emily shook her head, but didn’t give up. “No, but it’s an urgent matter. If you could just let him know...”
His smile remained polite, but his eyes showed the first signs of disapproval. “I’m afraid I can’t do much without an appointment. Mr. Fitzpatrick demands absolute discretion.”
A slight feeling of desperation rose in Emily. This couldn’t be it! She knew Alexander was here - and she knew she had to get to him. She had walked miles through L.A. in the cool of the evening just to be turned away?
She leaned closer to the counter and tried again. “Please, this is really important. I know he’s here, he’s got something that’s very important to me.”
The concierge hesitated, then sighed softly and grabbed the phone in front of him. “I’ll see what I can do.” He punched in a number, waited a moment, but there was no response. His expression remained neutral, but Emily could see the tension in his posture when he finally said, “Mr. Fitzpatrick doesn’t seem to be available at the moment.”
Emily bit her lip slightly. “Can you try again? It’s really, *really* important.”
The concierge nodded reluctantly, tried again - but to no avail. As he replaced the receiver, he looked at her with a regretful expression. “I’m sorry, but I can’t reach him. Perhaps you should try again later?”
Emily wasn’t ready to give up and try again later. She was exhausted and hungry by now. She wanted to go home, take off her makeup, change her clothes, and get some sleep. “Maybe you could call the hotel manager? I’m sure he can help me.” Her voice was firm, and although she felt a growing inner tension, she didn’t want to give in.
The concierge raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised at her persistence, but finally nodded. “One moment, please.” He turned away and disappeared into a back room to fetch the manager.
Emily was left alone in the magnificent lobby, her heart pounding. This was her only chance to reach Alexander before it was too late. But time seemed to be working relentlessly against her. She stroked her hair nervously and waited, the feeling of uncertainty weighing heavily on her.
After a few minutes, the concierge returned, this time accompanied by a tall, elegantly dressed, middle-aged man - the hotel manager. He looked professional, but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes as he approached Emily.
“I was told you needed to see Mr. Fitzpatrick? How can I help you?” he asked politely, but also with a hint of skepticism.
Emily took a deep breath. “It’s a personal matter and urgent. I know it’s unorthodox, but I’m asking you to help me. It’s really important that I see him as soon as possible.”
The hotel manager looked at Emily for a moment, then his expression brightened as he recognized her. “Miss Saron,” he said, his voice warmer now as he looked at her, “if I’m not mistaken, you’re the young lady who’s been in the press with Mr. Fitzpatrick lately, aren’t you?”
Emily felt a wave of relief wash over her. As much as she had hated the photos, they were now working in her favor. “Yes,” she replied. “But we had a little... There was a misunderstanding, and I really need to talk to him.”
The manager smiled cautiously, but there was also a hint of understanding in his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Fitzpatrick is not in the building at the moment.” Emily’s heart sank a little. Could one person have so much bad luck? “But,” he continued, “I’m willing to contact him on his personal cell phone if you’d like. Perhaps he can be reached that way.”
Emily felt a wave of relief wash over her. “That would be very helpful, thank you very much,” she said, following the manager as he turned away and led her discreetly down a corridor behind the main reception desk. They entered the manager’s office, an elegant room decorated entirely in muted colors - heavy leather-covered chairs, a dark wooden table, and subtle artwork on the walls. He offered her a seat and sat down behind his desk, before picking up his cell phone and dialing the number he seemed to know by heart. It didn’t take long for the soft dialing to be heard, but the piercing ring grew longer and longer. Seconds passed. Emily bit her lower lip, her eyes wandering nervously. Finally, the manager hung up.
“I’m sorry, Miss Saron,” he said with obvious regret, “but Mr. Fitzpatrick is not answering his phone right now.”
Emily felt helpless, all her hopes dashed in an instant. “Oh, no,” she stammered, “but I need to reach him. When he dropped me off earlier, I left my clutch in the limo - my cell phone, ID, money, even my apartment keys are in there. I’m kind of stranded.”
The manager looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded slowly as he realized the implications of the situation. “That’s unfortunate, of course,” he said, his forehead furrowed in deep thought. “But I think I may be able to help you after all. You see, Mr. Fitzpatrick left instructions a few days ago to prepare a guest room in his suite, should you need it. It might not be a bad idea for me to escort you to those rooms. That way you can wait for him there.”
Emily felt a rush of relief. Although the thought of spending the night in Alexander’s suite was unpleasant, it was the best option at the moment. “That would be a great help,” she said quietly, grateful for the kindness.
The manager rose and took the key to the suite from a drawer in his desk. “Then please follow me,” he said kindly. “I will show you to the guest room. I’m sure Mr. Fitzpatrick will understand.”
As Emily followed him through the elegantly furnished corridors of the hotel, she wondered what Alexander would think if he found her in his suite - and more importantly, what she should say to him.