Romance Rules for Werewolves (Charming Cove, #3)
Linsey Hall
Chapter
One
Isobel
My nerves fluttered as I walked up to the reception desk in the chic hotel lobby. I didn’t belong in a place like this, one of the most luxurious hotels in London. But to my complete shock, my boyfriend had invited me here for dinner. Tommy didn’t usually plan such outings, and I couldn’t believe my luck. Date nights were generally a takeaway curry while he watched darts on the telly.
The scent of the fresh roses filled the air, and I turned back to survey my sleek surroundings. A woman with glossy, highlighted hair marched toward the door. On her way, she shot me a brief, disdainful look.
I looked down at myself. Did my boots look wrong with my dress? If only my witchy skills included the ability to divine how to dress for a fancy human part of town like Mayfair.
I turned back to the registration desk, and the woman behind it smiled at me. “Welcome to the Regent. How may I help you?”
I smiled back and tried to sound like I did this kind of thing all the time. “I’m here for a dinner. On the roof.”
Surprise flashed on her face, but she covered it quickly. Crap, I was definitely dressed wrong.
“Oh, of course,” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you. If you’ll please follow me.”
She stepped out from behind the counter and led me across the lobby, past a bank of elevators with gold doors. As she walked, she turned back and said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to take a service elevator, since the roof isn’t open to all guests.”
A wave of giddiness washed over me. This was far more elaborate than I’d been expecting. Tommy was pulling out all the stops. She led me toward a small corridor tucked around the back of the lobby and into an elevator that, though much smaller than the others I’d seen, was still beautifully decorated with marble floors and wood paneled walls.
“Wow. This is quite nice,” I said.
“Only the best at the Regent.” She smiled. “And special guests use this elevator occasionally. A few parts of the hotel that are reserved for our VIPs, and the roof is one of those.”
“Wow.” I stepped into the elevator, buzzing with excitement.
She leaned inside to press the button that would take me to the top, then smiled at me. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you.” I leaned against the wall as the door whooshed shut, my mind spinning.
I couldn’t quite believe Tommy had planned all this. Honestly, I’d been starting to think he didn’t appreciate me. Maybe he’d finally realized he needed to step up his game.
The elevator stopped a few floors later, and a man pushed a room service cart inside. He wore a perfectly pressed uniform, and his brows twitched slightly when he saw me. I thought I saw surprise flash across his face, but he said nothing.
I couldn’t help but notice the champagne on the cart, sitting next to two small plates covered with polished silver cloches.
When the man didn’t push a button for any other floor, I realized he must be going to the roof. A little smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
Champagne.
That was a rare treat and definitely meant that something big was going to happen tonight. We’d lived together for eight years, and we never drank champagne. I usually picked up something just labelled FRENCH WHITE because it was the cheapest. Tommy did like to splurge on whiskey, but never champagne.
As the elevator rose, the man kept shooting me glances. I smiled back, unsure whether I should say anything, so I didn’t. Finally, the elevator doors opened, revealing a little foyer. The man nodded to the door opposite us. “That leads to the roof. Let me get it for you.”
He pushed the cart out, then left it sitting by the wall as he opened the door. A gentle breeze blew my hair back as I stepped onto the roof, marveling at how the weather had cooperated. In London, we were more likely to get a drizzle than a lovely night for al fresco dining, especially at the beginning of autumn.
Ahead of me, a large pergola had been constructed to protect a single dining table. The pergola, built of gleaming wood, was decorated with fairy lights that perfectly illuminated the scene—
I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at Tommy and the woman who sat opposite him. She wore a stunning red dress and had a mane of golden hair that looked like she’d just stepped out of a salon. She leaned toward Tommy, her scarlet lips parting in a smile.
My stomach dropped.
The note wasn’t intended for me.
I’d thought it was strange, the way it had been scrawled on the paper left on our counter instead of addressed to me. Clearly, it was a reminder for himself that he’d forgot to throw out. Somehow, Tommy’s laziness in keeping his affair secret was almost more offensive than the affair itself.
I drew in a shuddery breath, pain and anger clashing inside me.
Idiot. I’m an idiot.
And the worst thing was, a big part of me wanted to slink away before they saw me. But they turned, and I stilled like a deer in headlights.
“Isobel.” Surprise colored Tommy’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
“I—“ I drew in a shuddery breath. “What are you doing here?” I looked at her. “And who are you?”
She folded her arms, glaring at Tommy. “This is why you needed to tell her sooner. Not being funny, but you’re mugging her off, and it’s pathetic.”
I laughed, a weak sound. “We’ve been together for almost ten years, Tommy. How could you?”
He offered a little shrug. “I didn’t think you would mind this much, honestly.”
Cold shock flashed through me. “Wouldn’t mind?”
“You’re so easygoing,” he said. “So accommodating.”
Accommodating.
It sounded worse than if he’d called me a stone-cold bitch.
“Not being funny or anything,” the beautiful woman said, and I quickly understood this was her favorite phrase, and that in all likelihood, she was probably never genuinely funny. “But Tommy told me about you. Don’t take this the wrong way, love, but at the end of the day, you’re a doormat. A mug.” She wrinkled her little nose. “Sorry.”
I stared at her, blinking. I probably had my mouth open, too, just like a fish. Here I was, thinking I was about to be proposed to, and my boyfriend’s mistress was telling me that I was a doormat.
Then something wet and gloopy landed on my forehead. I looked up, spotting a pigeon flying overhead.
Perfection.
My head buzzed as I wiped the pigeon poo away, and the waiter who’d ridden in the elevator with me hurried forward with a cloth napkin. I wiped my hand off, feeling the silence in the air like an oppressive weight.
I looked back at the table. Pity flashed in the other woman’s eyes, and something snapped inside me. It lit me up like an inferno, and it felt good.
Deep in my belly, my magic unfurled, the dormant power awoken by anger. What the heck was I doing here?