Chapter Ten
LUC INSISTED ON PARKING his Renault illegally in front of the hotel.
He opened Acacia’s door and helped her to her feet, guiding her toward the front door.
Acacia eyed the doorman before she whispered, “I’m supposed to use the service entrance.”
“You’re using the front door today.” Luc flashed his identification to the doorman, who scurried ahead to open the door.
When Luc and Acacia entered the lobby, a frowning reservation agent greeted them.
“Don’t bother changing into your uniform,” Céline said, ignoring Luc. “Monsieur Roy wants to see you immediately.”
“And you are?” Luc held his identification under her nose and began asking a series of pointed questions.
Acacia didn’t bother to restrain her smile as she turned away.
At that moment, Monsieur Breckman exited the elevator with his security detail. Once again, he wore an expensive black suit, paired with a white shirt and black silk tie. A man Acacia did not recognize stood next to him, speaking very insistently in hushed tones.
Luc abandoned his interrogation and positioned himself in front of Acacia.
Monsieur Breckman’s eyes met Luc’s, and his eyebrows lifted. He made no effort to approach Acacia, but his gaze sought hers.
He stared at her as the man next to him continued to speak. Breckman gave no indication he was listening.
He didn’t look triumphant or arrogant. He seemed worried.
He glanced at Luc and gave Acacia a very unhappy look. Then he and his entourage turned and walked toward the back entrance to the hotel.
Once they were out of sight, Luc touched Acacia’s elbow. “I’m going to follow them.”
Acacia mumbled her thanks before she walked to Monsieur Roy’s office. She rapped on the door.
“Come in, Acacia.” The manager didn’t rise from behind his desk when she entered his office.
“Good morning.” She waited for him to offer her a seat. He didn’t.
Instead, he sat back in his chair and regarded her with small, beady eyes. “I spent last night on the telephone, explaining to my superiors why the hotel was swarming with BRB agents.”
“I’m sorry, monsieur. I’m sure that was upsetting.” Acacia adopted her most sympathetic tone.
“Upsetting?” Monsieur Roy’s normally pale face reddened. “Are you familiar with the employee handbook?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Apparently not. Because if you’d been familiar with the handbook, you’d have known it was your responsibility to inform me of any suspected illegal activity in the hotel.”
“I informed the night manager.”
“The night manager is not me!” He slammed his hand on top of the desk. “You called the BRB. You might as well have engaged an anti-terrorism unit. Guests were panicked and upset.”
“I am truly sorry, monsieur. I contacted a friend who happens to work for the BRB, simply to ask about the painting I saw in Monsieur Breckman’s suite. The BRB recognized the painting from my description and came over, hoping to recover it.”
“And did they?” The manager’s tone was mocking. “No, they did not. You discommoded a highly valued guest, failed to follow proper procedure, and caused an extreme amount of embarrassment not only to the company that owns the hotel but also to me. And you did all of this because of a reproduction!”
Acacia folded her hands. “Monsieur, I’m sorry for the inconvenience and will be more than happy to apologize to all the affected guests. But time was of the essence. I was worried the painting was genuine and that it would never be seen again.”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve caused a problem.” He glared. “I’ve grown tired of your attitude and your insubordination. Go home. You will be paid for today’s shift but starting tomorrow, you will work the night shift. I’ve decided to switch your schedule with François. He’ll be working days from now on, in Marcel’s absence.”
Acacia gasped. “But I’ve always worked the day shift. You’re demoting me?”
The manager smiled. “Of course not, that would be illegal. You will still be a concierge; you will simply be working the night shift. A formal reprimand will be forthcoming in writing. The next time you commit an infraction, you’ll be dismissed.”
“Dismissed?” Acacia moved forward. “Monsieur, you can’t punish me for doing my civic duty.”
“Perhaps not. But you can be reprimanded for not following procedures. I am the one who will decide whether to contact the authorities. Not you,” he said with a huff. “In view of what’s happened, you may wish to search for other employment. I understand your work permit is tied to your contract here?”
“Yes.” Acacia swallowed. “Please, monsieur. This has been a misunderstanding.”
“I understand precisely what’s happening. Report for the night shift tomorrow evening.” The manager opened a file on his desk and began to write in bold, angry script. “Go home.”