Page 29 of The Gilded Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 2)

ALEX

“Good evening, Mr. Devereaux,” Wilma says when I amble up to hotel registration. “What can I do for you?”

I lean against the counter, conflicted. I fidget a full ten seconds before I finally say, “A woman named Sabine is staying with us—I don’t know her last name. Long blonde hair, very pretty. Frederick walked her back after the show.”

Wilma turns to her ledger. “I haven’t seen Frederick since this morning, but I think I know who you’re talking about.”

What am I doing?

“Room 207,” Wilma says as she locates Sabine’s name in her records.

I thank her and head to the side stairs, sternly telling myself to go to my suite.

Instead, I find myself outside Room 207.

I raise my hand, but I can’t bring myself to knock. Muttering a curse under my breath, I turn away.

Ms. Kettinson greets me in the hall outside my rooms, finished for the night and about to retire to her apartment on the floor below.

“How was the performance, Alex?” she asks, following me inside.

“It was fine.” I toss my jacket and hat on the rack next to the door. “I thought you were leaving.”

The housekeeper eyes me. “You’re brooding again. Should I have hidden the liquor?”

“I won’t drink,” I say, though I’m not sure whether it’s a lie or not.

Shooting me a narrow-eyed look, obviously not believing me, she steps into the hall. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I bid her a good evening, breathing a sigh of relief when the door closes and I’m alone. The peace is fleeting, however. I pause in the middle of the entry, losing myself to memories.

After haunting my dreams for years, Sabine is in my hotel. And if she was innocent in my capture…

But she’s Fae.

A brisk knock sounds at the door, startling me from my thoughts. I jump nearly a foot off the rug. I turn, my heart beating a little faster. Is it her?

I cross the space in just a few steps and pull the door open, expecting…

Not Frederick.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, my shoulders sagging. “Don’t you have a perfectly good home?”

“I think I’m in love.” My friend clutches his heart and barges inside.

“You’re not in love,” I snap. “You’re just besotted.”

“Sabine agreed to meet me for breakfast in the morning,” he says. “She plans to leave after that, but I think I can convince her to extend her holiday by at least a day or two.”

“Let her go,” I advise. “You don’t want to find yourself caught in her snare for eternity.”

His expression changes. Sullenly, he says, “You know.”

I avoid his eyes. “Know what?”

Frederick drops his voice. “That she’s one of them.”

“She told you?”