The call was abruptly ended. Claire quite couldn't understand what was wrong with Damian. She sighed as she wiped the stain on her clothes when another knock came on the door.
"Ma'am," the waiter's voice was more insistent now. "I just wanted to remind you about the room. It's on this floor, just a few doors down. Please don't hesitate to use it. You will feel much more comfortable once you have changed."
Claire clenched her jaw, her irritation mounting. "I said I am fine," she snapped, her patience wearing thin.
The waiter hesitated. "I understand, but the stain will set quickly, and I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable at the party. The room is prepared, and no one will disturb you there."
Claire glanced at the dark patch on her dress. It did look bad, and her discomfort was growing. She sighed, debating her options. Her phone buzzed again, and she quickly glanced at the message from Damian:
