Charles. Hotel Royal.

Charles knew that the Hotel Royal was not within budget but, as far as he was concerned; if a man had to travel to this damn country to work on a yoghurt account, then that man had the god given right to sleep in a half way decent hotel.


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Standing at the window and looking down at the Place Bellecour he felt the tension subside a little. The client meeting wouldn’t be until the afternoon and there was the meet-up in the lobby in the evening. He was actually quite looking forward to that he realized. He’d never actually met any of these people but it felt like he’d known them forever.