Queen Rouge Booking Novels & Stories

"Mr. Duncan, your reservation is ready. Shall I take you and Miss Swann there now?" Branden nodded slightly and then linked arms with Catherine. Although the hotel was one of the old luxury hotels in Loxton, it had recently been completely renovated. It was said that this restaurant was currently the most popular and luxurious one in Loxton, highly sought after for dates and proposals. With only three tables available each day, reservations were booked a year in advance. Today, the entire restaurant was booked by Branden. Upon arrival, the manager greeted them and carefully introduced the restaurant's features. The owner had personally called to emphasize the importance of not offending the

The restaurant was exclusive the kind of place that required reservations months in advance and had a dress code strictly enforced. The maître d' greeted Damien by name, leading them to a private table in the back corner. Secluded. Intimate. With a view of the entire restaurant but positioned so that no one could easily see them. "Mr. Blackwood, your usual table. Will you be having wine this evening?" "Yes. Bring us the 2015 Margaux." Damien pulled out Aria's chair personally, his hand brushing the back of her neck as she sat. The touch was brief but electric.

“Are you kidding me? I laughed breathlessly. “It’s famous and… really expensive. I’ve read about it in some magazines.” Rowan had this pleased look on his face as he nodded and smiled at me, “it’s your lucky night, Princess.” What… It took everything in me not to walk beside Rowan with my jaw on the floor. The inside of Rosa was elegant and plush, the people seated at the tables spoke in low and warm tones, the lighting was dim and golden but bright enough to see. A waiter approached us with a professional smile on his face, “Welcome to Rosa.” “I made a reservation for two, under Rowan Hawkins.” Rowan told him, the waiter nodded and led us to a table set for two, he placed the two menu lists

A phone number at the bottom. I dial before I can change my mind. "Thank you for calling. How may I assist you?" A woman's voice. Professional. Warm. "I—" My voice catches. "I had an appointment recently. Suite 2847 at The Meridian. I was hoping to book again with the same companion." "Of course. May I have the name you booked under?" "Claire." Typing sounds. "Yes, I have your record here. And you'd like to book with Lucien again?"

"But the person promised you'd settle the payments, so we already ordered three of the best lambs from the local herdsmen overnight, as well as a lot of other expensive cooking ingredients and drinks in advance. Miss Rosie, if you unsubscribe now, we'll be very embarrassed..." Rosie was incensed. "Who on earth asked you to make a reservation? They dare spend a lot of money here under my name?!" Corinne said, "I made the reservation."

“You really want to walk up and down the beach with Alex all night again?” “It beats sitting around doing nothing.” Braxton shrugged. Mom wasn’t home when we arrived and the patrols were switching in a few hours so I went to look for dad. Walking past the large double doors that separated his office from the dining room Braxton brought me to a halt. “What’s that?” He asked. “It’s a topographical map of our lands.” I started pointing out the borders and areas of the human town we owned. “And this.” “ That’s the ski resort on the mountain past the lake houses, it’s closed for the summer. Mom has a company that runs it when it’s open. One of the ways the pack makes money.”

GERALD I sat at a corner table in the private upper gallery of L’Auberge du Lac, leaning back against the dark velvet booth. The restaurant had been cleared by Norton’s advance team an hour earlier. No other patrons, no intrusive waitstaff, no listening devices planted beneath the linen tablecloths. Only a single candle flickering inside a crystal hurricane lamp, two glasses of vintage Pinot Noir, and the quiet, low hum of the rain pressing against the arched leaded-glass windows.

“Right away. Just a reminder—you have that meeting at Rouge tonight. Nine o’clock. A representative from the Kessler Group.” I exhaled through my nose. Kessler. Slippery bastards. But wealthy ones. The deal would be worth the effort. I nodded, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ll be there.” Later that evening, Rouge simmered with its usual clientele—high net worth egos hiding behind low lighting, laughter disguised as power plays, and smoke that drifted like secrets between leather booths and velvet curtains. I arrived alone, as always, stepping into the amber haze of the barroom with the kind of presence that made people turn without knowing why.

Ellen whispered “Nope. What's up?” He asked, still stroking Marie's back. “I need clearance to use the Kingfisher banquet hall for an event. I sent you an email about it.” “Okay, when is this event? And what is it for?” Steven asked “September 16th. It's for a team bonding exercise but we want to go all the way.” “Ellen. You want the most exquisite banquet hall we have for a team bonding exercise?” “I’ve checked and it's not booked for that day. I just need your signature and approval and I'm good to go.”

“It’s just three nights.” Queenie loops her arm through mine with aggressive cheerfulness. “Girls’ trip! This is going to be so fun. I haven’t had a proper sleepover since I was like, nineteen. Do you think there’s face masks? I feel like a place this fancy has to have face masks.” “There are face masks,” Rafael confirms. “And a full spa kit in each bathroom. I’ll have someone bring wine to your cabin before dinner.” “See?” Queenie beams at Knox. “Wine and face masks. What more could we need?”