For the first time all evening, a genuine smile crossed Ethan’s face.
But Robert, desperate to salvage his position, tried to step between them. “Mr. Vance, please allow me to handle this internally. I’m certain Patricia and Karla were simply following our strict security protocols.”
Ethan turned his sharp gaze onto the manager. “What protocol dictates mocking a guest because of the jacket they’re wearing?”
Robert didn’t have an answer.
“What protocol allows a front-desk agent to deny a valid corporate booking without thoroughly checking the database?”
Silence.
“And what protocol states that our housekeeping staff shouldn’t be trusted or treated with basic respect?”
Patricia pressed a hand to her chest, tears springing to her eyes. “Sir, it was just a horrible misunderstanding.”
Lupita lowered her eyes, looking at the floor. Ethan noticed that though her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, she didn’t let them fall. She was a woman who had spent a lifetime saving her tears for when nobody else was watching.
“Lupita,” Ethan said gently. “How long have you worked at this property?”
“Twelve years, sir.”
“And how many times have you reported this kind of behavior to management?”
Robert turned a slow, warning glare toward Lupita. She hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Several times, sir.”
“To whom?”
She looked directly at the general manager. “To human resources. To the shift supervisors. To anyone who would listen to me.”
Robert’s face tightened into stone. “I don’t recall any formal documentation reaching my desk.”
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