Aziza was indeed feeling sick, but water was not going to help. The fact that the truth of his words was in her hands was unsettling to say the least. Now what should she do?
Greg handed her the glass of water and she took it without thinking, sipping the cool liquid.
“What are you thinking,” he asked, kneeling next to her.
That was a good question. What was she thinking? Certainly not that this was all true. No… that wasn’t what she was thinking because the whole idea of it was ridiculous.
The silence between them was deafening.
Shaking her head slightly and chuckling in disbelief, she said, “No… no… this can’t be. It’s just one big elaborate joke!”
She looked at Greg, and shut her mouth quickly, holding her breath. Her eyes began to water as she continued to stare at him. His eyes were wide and his eyebrows raised, as he leaned back away from her. Unable to hold it in, she burst out in laughter, doubling over and holding her stomach as she waved her other hand in front of her.
“Aziza, what's going on with you? This is serious,” Greg said, confused.
She just continued laughing harder, leaning back in her seat. She knew how serious the situation was, but his reaction was priceless.
There was a buzzing sound.
Greg reached into his pants’ pocket and took out his phone. He glanced at the screen and cursed under his breath.
“I'm sorry, I have to take this,” he grumbled, standing and walking towards the bedroom. “Michael, where are you?”
Sitting up, Aziza wiped her eyes, as her laughter died down. Greg sounded different. His voice went down an octave and he spoke with a command that she never heard from him before. On top of that, he called Mike, Michael. When had he ever called his friend that, let alone spoken to him with such a commanding voice? Something seemed off… more so than the marriage prank.
There was a knock at the door.
“Can you get that,” Greg asked, poking his head out of the bedroom door. “I ordered room service to bring up some breakfast for us, so make sure to eat something. I still have a lot to tell you, before…”
He paused for a moment, pursing his lips together.
“I won't be much longer,” he said in a gentler tone. This was the Greg she was used to.
The one who sometimes seemed to care for her more than a friend. The change in moods was unsettling, but she was glad to see him return to normal.
He nodded, then brought his phone back to his ear, “Yeah, I’m still here.”
He disappeared back into the bedroom as another knock sounded through the room; this time more demanding.
“Geeze, I’m coming,” Aziza said, under her breath.
Opening the door, she was about to speak when three men in suits pushed their way through.
“Good morning, Miss McIntyre,” the older, more prestigious looking man said, turning to face her.
Aziza huffed, as she balanced herself. If she wasn’t holding onto the door, she would have fallen to the floor.
“Excuse you,” she said, glaring at the man. “Who said that y’all could just waltz right in here? Y’all got some nerve…”
The fuzziness in her head seemed to finally clear up. She looked at the men closer. The one who spoke to her wore a tailored suit with a solid red tie. His brown hair was cut short and neatly styled to one side. He had a look of importance, but he didn’t seem as if he was the head person in charge. However, the thing that caught Aziza off guard the most was what he said.
“Wait…” she continued, blinking slowly. “How do you know my name? Are you… are you the hotel manager?”
The man just pursed his lips and pushed his glasses back on the brim of his nose. Something wasn’t right and the silence was making her uncomfortable. She looked over at the two men standing behind the first. They both had on black suits and black ties, the kind an FBI agent would wear. They had on sunglasses and wore stark expressions on their faces.
Are these guys the manager’s security, she asked herself, looking the men up and down.
Aziza smiled hesitantly, “Mr. Manager, I realize that there’s no way we can afford this room for one night, let alone for more than one. However, I assure you that we will cover the expenses.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, before shaking his head and saying, “Miss McIntyre, I’m not the manager of this hotel.”
“Then who are you and how do you know my name,” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she took a step back.
“My name is Reginald, miss,” he said, as he pulled the bottom of his suit jacket down.
Aziza waited for him to continue answering her questions, but he just stared at her. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Just when she was about to say something, Reginald said, “Miss McIntyre, let me begin by apologizing for all that you’ve been through.”
“What…”
“However, this is where we must part ways. We are fully prepared to compensate you. All we ask in return is that you don’t breathe a word of this… incident… to anyone.”
“Wait… what! What’s goin’ on here?”
“These gentlemen will escort you out and someone will be in contact with you soon to discuss the details.”
“Hey… let go of me,” Aziza yelled, trying to tug her arm out of one of the guy’s hands. However, the more she struggled the tighter his grip got.
“Take your hands off her!”
Greg!
She stopped struggling, turning her head to look towards her friend. Greg would come to her rescue, but there was something different about him. The carefree guy that she got to know all this time was nowhere to be found. This Greg was glaring at the men that surrounded her.
Rushing up to them, he demanded once again, “I said, unhand her!”
The man released her as Greg grabbed her wrist and pulled her away. He briefly examined her arms, till he seemed to focus on the slight bruising around her wrist. Hesitating for a moment, he gently brushed his thumb over the area, breathing out heavily. He turned towards the men, making sure to keep her behind him.
“If you ever touch her again, heads will roll. Now leave,” he growled at the men as he stared them down.
To Aziza’s surprise, both men snapped to attention, quickly bowed, then left the suite. Was it her imagination, or did they seem to look a little scared? She moved to Greg’s side and looked up at his face, gasping. He watched the men leave with a death stare in his eyes. He looked as though he was about to explode, which was unnerving to say the least. But one thing was for sure, this was definitely not the Greg she was used to.
A chill ran down her back as she stared at him. Yet, she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement.
“Reginald,” Greg said, as he looked at the man who insulted her. “you got here earlier than expected.”
“Yes, your…”
“How did you find me so easily,” Greg asked, his voice going down in octave.
“Easy, all we had to do was look for any extra expenditures that you made and voila,” the man replied, waving his hand and zeroing in on Aziza.
Greg moved slightly in front of her, blocking her from Reginald’s stare.
“I see. Which tells me two things; first, you already know what’s happened and second, you’ve been here surveilling me the whole time.”
“Yes, well…”
“Does Michael know…” he huffed out a curt laugh. “Of course, he knows. I assume he’s known you were here this whole time, too. Am I right?”
Reginald looked straight ahead without saying a word, but he didn’t need to say anything.
Greg nodded once, before asking, “So, explain to me why you were trying to throw my wife out of our honeymoon suite behind my back?”
Reginald quickly bowed, then said, “My apologies, your Highness. I was just trying to get ahead of this scandal before the media gets involved. The King and Queen distinctly stated…”
“I’m fully aware of the stipulation that my parents put on me to allow me to go to school in the states,” he said, growling again.
“Well, you must understand the urgency of the situation then.”
Greg sighed heavily, “Yes, I know, but what you must understand is…”
“Highness…?” Aziza murmured, her eyes widening as she stared back and forth between the two men.
Greg stiffened for a moment, as he winced. Looking back at her, he said, “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out, but yes, I’m a prince of Valoria.”
Aziza just gaped at him for a few moments, before she burst out laughing.