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  Mum was no help with her restaurant that she insisted on having, which for the most part broke even. She wanted nothing to do with the hotel business because she said she had enough. She helped the man build them and it was at a cost. She lost her husband, so she wanted nothing to do with it. Before there was a chef, she cooked for Wolfe I and then when father became more ambitious with Wolfe II, mama managed both kitchens. We still use the recipes, but she will have nothing to do with them. I don’t bloody blame her either. Her contributions to the business were to be closer to my father. His contribution to the marriage was an income. The woman loved him, but she resented the man almost in equal favor. Therefore, she did what she always wanted to do after he died. Took the money from his insurance and started her own restaurant. Even though she broke even, everything was already paid for: the building, equipment and since she only employed her and Sergio, they were paid just fine.

  When I walked back home to the hotel where I took up as my residence, Scot immediately accosted me at the door.

  “Mr. Wolfe, there is a woman that is here to see you. She’s been here for four hours now, and she says it’s urgent. We didn’t call you as you have made clear, but it does appear to be urgent, sir.”

  “Okay, Scot.” I nodded towards the faithful concierge. “I have an idea who it is, and I don’t wish to speak with her at this moment.”

  My heart no longer ached at Patricia’s betrayal, but I also don’t entertain her antics anymore. Any bloke who inquiries about marrying young will always get an emphatic no from me. Bloody no, it’s rubbish. She was a beauty and that was all that I saw. I ignored her conniving and manipulative ways, but I did not let her slander bypass me. The woman would not get an audience from me, unless lawyers were present.

  “But sir...” Scot called as I made my way to the lift. “This woman is American, and she says you have her passport.”

  “Bloody hell!” I exclaimed while stopping dead in my tracks and turning to eye the man. “She’s here now?”

  “Yes, sir. In the bar. A little tossed but she’s here.” He informed me.

  Turning on my heel and widening my stride, I almost ran towards the quaint bar that I had installed after taking the chain of hotels over. As soon as I entered the dimly lit room, everyone at the bar counter turned towards me and yelled in a jolly tone, “Noah Wolfe!”

  It was similar to that American show, Cheers, when they greeted their mate, Norm. This was not my usual greeting, even though the staff knew me well. It was usually the same way Scot addressed me. Sir or senor, but never by my full name.

  The American black woman from yesterday that left in a tizzy was in the bar and quite tossed. Her words slurred when she said, “There you are, Noah Wolfe. You made me miss my flight, and your wretched mother is a spawn of Satan who robbed me today.”

  Shite!

  She went back to see mama. Of course, she did, since the woman left her bag at the restaurant. She was trying to get off the stool, but the woman clearly wasn’t going to make it in her state. I quickly moved towards her, where she landed in my arms.

  “Damn, you smell good.” She said with her face plastered against my chest. “But if you’re a spawn of the spawn of Satan, that means you’re supposed to smell good, right?”

  Her arms snaked around my shoulders and the feeling was almost a foreign one, since I had not had a woman do that to me in a long time.

  “Up, you go.” I murmured as I lifted her in my arms. “Let’s get your passport and then a cab.

  The woman said something unintelligible, but I carried her to my flat, so she could be on her way. Her mumblings sound liked she was cursing my mum and me, but we made it up to the top floor to my suite. When I put her down in the front room, she mumbled, “You are one strong man. I weigh over two hundred pounds.”

  It wasn’t a question, but a simple observation. Where some men work hard and play harder, I work hard, but work out harder. Not as a muscle builder but stamina and weight training. It had become an obsession of mine. Every morning before work, I was at the hotel gym working out.

  Nabbing her black bag that I had to pry from mum’s hands yesterday because she would have likely put it in the oven to let it burn. Last night, I took the privilege of opening it to see that her passport was inside. I meant to call around to the neighboring hotels to see if a woman by the name of Maxine Robins had a room, but with the crisis at Wolfe I, it slipped my mind.

  “This is all your fault, you know?” She spoke slower. “I have to pay more to get home now.”

  “I can cover the cost.” I shared with her as I put her satchel in her hand.

  “Thanks.” She snatched it dramatically, which almost sent her over the couch. “But, no thanks. You’re handsome and all, with your square jaw, but you come from Satan’s spawn.” Maxine laughed at her own joke, but it was that of a tossed lady. She had the coloring of a chestnut, equally baked with smooth skin on all sides. Despite her intoxication, she was a stunning woman, any man could see. Her attire consisted of a skirt suit that hugged her shapely curves, but the colors were very bold. This was another thing that made her stand out. The burnt orange suit matched her complexion as if it was made for just her. The nose on her was small, almost like a button, but those full lips made a man want to bite one. The eyes on her were big, but it worked for her. Everything about her worked.

  Why was she here alone? There was no ring on her finger. It could have been her brisk manner, but a man worth his salt could look past that.

  “Maaan!” She almost sang the word. “If I were a different type of woman, you could get it.”

  I’d heard that term before when I was in America, watching one of those Housewives shows by accident. She was saying that I could have sex with her. The curt woman found me attractive; which I found odd, since she hadn’t a kind word for me. The fact that my cologne was pleasing to her was not a compliment.

  “What kind of woman is that?” I asked, ignoring my manners to not let drunken women make fools of themselves.

  Something told me that if she were in a sober state, those words would have never been uttered.

  “A woman who freely sleeps with people,” she said it as if I should already know.

  I would not know because I did not squander with loose women, in any way.

  “Let’s get some coffee in you before I get you a cab.” I tried to change the subject, so my cock did not join the mental party of having this woman wrapped around me. The one where I am peeling that orange suit from her voluptuous body to find what I know must be a treasure. That particular party had to shut down and she had to go. I’d pay for the ticket, the cab, and even another night at a hotel, but this woman had to leave.

  “Yay, coffee!” She sang in an unknown tune.

  I retreated to the kitchen and began the brisk brewing of the coffee. However, when I returned, Maxine Robins had her stocking feet on the couch, curled up in a ball, and was out sleep.

  Bugger!

  “Maxine?” I called as I moved towards her. “Miss. Robins?”

  There was no response, except light breathing from her. She looked bloody angelic, and there was no way I was putting her in a cab with her state.

  Putting the coffee down, I gathered her from the couch and took her to my bed. The jacket was the only piece of clothing that I removed, but that did not help the party in my head to see her buxom bosoms, soft and plump covered in a tease of a blouse. It was not fair. She turned to lay on her side, and those breasts of her stacked one on another, round and perfect right in front of her.

  Quickly leaving, I went to get her satchel with the passport, so she’d see it when she arose. God knows I could not bear to have her forget that again. Then, I moved myself to one of the spare rooms after my nightly routine. It hit me that I could have put her in that room, but I liked her where she was at. The room was fit for her, just as it was.

  There was little doubt in my mind that Maxine would wake before me, since I was up at five every morning
. The woman continued to surprise me, because not only was she up, she was gone by five.

  Satchel, passport, and her.

  The prick in my heart was once again foreign but mainly missed. I used to have it with Patricia but never after her betrayal and deceit. I would not allow a woman to even get close enough. Yet, this American stranger just caused that.

  My routines continued with my workout first, then on to my office in East London. It was directly between Wolfe I and II. I chose this office to serve as the management company, so if we decided more hotels or other entities would be created, there would already be a central office with the allotted systems and structures. This lesson was learned early on when I noticed that Wolfe I did things differently than Wolfe II. There was even pushback from the managers and the group about letting each decide. This was my first test of leadership, where I differed from my father. He was okay with that sort of chaotic methodology. I was not. This caused me to remind each manager that I was the one who set these rules, and if they didn’t like them, they could sod off. That move did not make me popular, but it was an effective one. Four years later, the hotels look the same with consistent practices and tools that each can utilize. What happens to one, happens to the other. This also created opportunity with the organization for people to move between the two and more, if I continue to expand.

  Around noon that day, the American woman bombarded into my thoughts. I tried to push it away, but just like she refused to pay for the pizza my mum clearly messed up on, she was just as relentless as she took over my psyche. With my continual efforts to tamp down on the sassy woman, the same issue happens the next day. This time, I indulged myself and looked her up. From what I could gather, she was American, forty-two years of age, and her accent was more of an Eastern one. Maybe she lived in New York or a surrounding area. Her clothes suggested she was a businesswoman in the traditional sense and her posture signaled that she was someone in leadership. So, I googled her name. There were a bunch of Maxine Robins, so I clicked on Google Image.

  Ha.

  There she was, the fourth picture, but her hair was in long thin braids. The image directly next to her was her with short hair, posing in a pink suit, with the words Maxine Robins, President & CEO of The Always Right Company (ARC).

  I bloody found her.

  My finger clicked through every site image as I looked for a phone number or address. It was on the Contact Us page that I found a form, but I wanted her direct email. Most companies used a first initial last name combination or the full name. I drafted an email to both with the ending of her website address, but I did not send it:

  To: Maxine Robins

  From: Noah R. Wolfe

  Subject: Trotting Off/Passport

  Dear Ms. Robins,

  It is I, Noah Wolfe, whose home you escaped when you were here in London. I presume you are no longer here, which is sad news since I offered you money to compensate for my mishap and would have even called in a favor from my mate, so you could have use of his personal jet.

  My apologies of course as the mistake was unintentional. Please allow me to make amends. A goodbye would have suited as well.

  Regretfully,

  Noah Wolfe

  Instead of sending the email, I stored it in my drafts and continued to search through her hits and found that she was located in Philadelphia, had a fairly large size YouTube following, and her largest presence was on SyncedIn. There were many videos about good customer service and how companies’ downfall in business is centered around not listening or foreseeing what people want. After watching a good ten of them, it hit home why this woman was so mad with my mum. This sort of thing was what she did to make a living. Most people just leave and write a bad review. Mama had many bad reviews and they rarely said anything about the food. Ninety-nine percent of them were about the poor customer service, which was mama alone.

  An hour had already passed where I spent most of my time trying to find all I could find out about the mysterious Maxine Robins. Since most of the links took me back to SyncedIn, I followed her and requested a connection. It was then that I saw a review about a restaurant in London.

  Bloody hell!

  She described the interaction to a T, gave links, the name of the restaurant, my mum’s full name, and a picture of the pizza she wanted versus the pizza she received. Then, she showed screen captions of the reviews she posted on ten different sites about the service and what businesses should not do.

  Fuck!

  Chapter 4

  Maxine

  Freaked out was an understatement. I was in a strange bed, a headache the size of Texas with my satchel and jacket draped over a table next to the bed. The browns and creams represented a man’s room. My stockings were still in tack, the skirt was askew, but that is what happens when you sleep on it. My bra and blouse were on and nothing was sore or out of place down under. That meant I was good, but when I tiptoed past a bedroom and saw Mr. Noah Wolfe dressed in pajamas and sleeping, I knew there was no telling what I said and no way that I could face him. Taking one more glance towards him, I thought about how fine he really was.

  As my cousin would say, “Fiiinnee.”

  I had to get out of there. This was one day I thanked God for jetlag because drunk or not, my sleeping patterns were still off. The five-hour time difference and the eight-hour trip proved to be more of an emotional toll on my body than I thought.

  Calling an Uber, thank God London used that service, I was out of there in twenty minutes. The concierge that was on at night didn’t recognize me, but I kindly nodded and waited outside near under their awning.

  Once I made it back to my hotel, I hopped on the first shuttle to the Heathrow airport and paid for the first flight back to the Philadelphia. I would not go to work that day or the next because the secretary of steel told me to keep my hind parts at home until I was ready to take on the work. She was great that way, even though I did not want to take heed to her advice.

  Gladys was right because I slept like a log for over ten hours straight, which threw me off, but I was able to catch up Tuesday evening. During that time, I had not checked my emails, since that was something else Gladys could see too. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to work at six to find an email from a Mr. Noah R. Wolfe. I almost did not want to open it because I knew it could not be anything good.

  Biting the bullet, I clicked on the email to see what I thought. The man was pissed.

  Dearest Ms. Robins,

  Your description of my mum is both inaccurate and unfair. Her state, unbeknownst to you, is that she is in her retirement and chose to have her own restaurant. She may not be the most affable person in the world, but she is a person and for you to berate her like that all over social media and scare away what business she could obtain is obtuse and very American. You own a successful business and you wouldn’t want the things said about you that were taken out of context. I have a few of those comments etched in my memory by the way. It’s slanderous, and I demand that you remove them at once.

  Good day.

  Noah Wolfe

  Before I could even think, I started typing away, so I could remind him just what happened.

  Mr. Wolfe,

  Maybe you are the one that is mistaken. You were not there, and if you felt that was bad, I could have said more about how she wouldn’t even tell me that you had my passport until I paid for that damn pizza that I never ordered or ate. I call that extortion. It is not slanderous if it is true. As a matter of fact, it’s slanderous to threaten me with hearsay. I’m not even sure what you are referring to, so Mr. Wolfe, please refrain from contacting me about your wretched mother. I speak only the truth, and you make excuses for poor management and customer service. I could not even tell you if the food is good, so that should tell you something. I found not one redeeming quality. If you want to do her a favor, you might want to hire her a respectable server and have her work in the back where she doesn’t have to
interact with people or have her watch some of these videos I do this for a living, you know.

  Here are the links:

  http://www.arc.com | www.SyncedIn.com/arc | http://www.facebook.com/arc

  By the way, I am a proud American, which has nothing to do with our current leader and chief.

  Sorry, not sorry,

  Maxine Robins

  There, I sent it, and he could kick rocks for all I cared. How dare he email me with his attitude about what I said about his mother. The woman is a troll, and I mean, straight from the pits of hell.

  My email dinged notifying me that he had emailed right back.

  Shit.

  Maxine,

  That’s rich. Sorry, not sorry. I should have chucked that passport like mama wanted. This is the gratitude that I receive for helping you out.

  Take the reviews down.

  Simply not sorry,

  Noah

  My fingers started typing again.

  Noah,

  That is real mature. You and your mother obviously think alike. This is not a trait to be admired.

  I’m not taking it down. It’s all true with no fabrications.

  Maxine

  My eyes continued to stare at the screen, waiting for him to email back, but instead my phone rang.

  “Yes?” I answered without looking at the receiver.

  “Maxine?” The familiar deep British accent called through the receiver.

  “Yes?” I asked, feeling the pull in my gut.

  “Take it down,” He demanded.

  “Ha!” I scoffed. “You made a long-distance call for that. How’d you get my number?”

  “Your email address.” Noah shared. “Maxine, will you take down the post? This is slander at the most.”