It was time to go. Grabbing a pair of dark glasses, she left her flat and went down the stairs. No one would question the dark circles under her eyes. Or that she was going directly to the hospital to see her grandmother. For many of The Sadler’s long-time staff and frequent guests, Miss Eugenie Sadler was the equivalent of royalty. Her health and well-being were woven into the very fabric of the hotel, and they would be waiting for reassurance. George opened the rear door at her approach. “Morning, Miss.” Alex returned the greeting with a smile. He’d been calling her “miss” since he’d arrived at The Sadler as a young man. She’d been eight-years-old then, and here she was, twenty years later, about to step into the top position at one of London’s most exclusive hotels. She’d never felt more alone. She fought the impulse to glance at the windows of Marc’s suite, and lost.
