Rising, John went to the sideboard and produced a plate of eggs and bacon with sautéed kale. Returning, he set it before her with a nice linen napkin and utensils and a full-wattage smile. “I already ate; this is for you.”
“Wow.” Layla smiled at him, taking up the napkin. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Bowling.” John grinned as he resumed his seat. “I suck at bowling. Toss those things right through the damn wall.”
“With all those muscles? I can believe it.” Layla grinned, then set to. She was ravenous this morning, her dreams and deep sleep having given her an appetite. Plus, she knew she might not have the opportunity to eat much once her first day started – the first day on a new job was always iffy for personal time. John settled back, taking up his phone and scrolling through a few screens as she ate, letting Layla have her meal in peace. When she finished, he gave her a quick smile and took up her plate, taking it to the built-in kitchenette where he had cooked.
“Time to get prepped.” John nodded at the back area. “You got makeup or hair stuff? You’ll want to use it. Even though you’re debuting during the day, you’ll want to dress like it’s a fancy ball. Wear the Moroccan cuff and some of your grandmother’s diamonds. They’ll not be out of place.”
“Holy shit.” Layla stared at him, trying to let that sink in. “That fancy?”
“You got that right.” John eyeballed her, then gave a piece of wisdom. “Ms. Price, the Red Letter Hotel serves the most elite clientele in the world. Just to fit in, you have to look dapper as all hell, staff or guest. The way your grandma Mimi dressed for her shows, that’s the way to do it, but with your own modern twist. Diamonds, sapphires, rubies – ain’t out of place to see tiaras in there and royal sashes. You got me?”
“Wow. Yeah, I got you.” Layla shifted her stance, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. She’d worked fancy parties before bartending, but nothing like this. Seeing her unease, John moved over and set a big, comforting hand to her shoulder. Layla felt that same warming ease flow through her from John’s touch, like a muscled teddy bear.
“You got this. Go get ready. I’ll see you in forty-five.”
Blowing out a steadying breath, Layla nodded. John’s chocolate brown eyes were kind, his presence warm and reassuring. She was grateful for him suddenly, that someone so approachable had been sent to orient her into this world, and she told him so. He gave a big megawatt smile and laughed.
“Ain’t no thing, Ms. Price. Go on. Git.”
She grinned, then turned and went back to the bedroom. Pulling the partition closed, she took out the shopping bags from where John had stowed them. Rummaging through the delicate tissue paper, she found the most exquisite fabrics beneath her fingertips. Real silk, silk lace, delicate beadwork, and Swarovski crystals. Colors so vibrant they popped in outstanding jewel tones beneath the overhead lights.
Taking out one item, Layla found it was a slinky evening gown in a warm royal plum that would make her pale green eyes and light olive complexion absolutely pop. The back dippedallthe way down, leaving no space for a bra. Smooth silk slid beneath her fingers, the shoulders black lace in an antique pattern, with a small button behind the neck so the back remained bare. The draping skirt was bias-cut in a trumpet shape for an incredible silhouette, with a train of extra fabric cascading from the butt down. The whole thing screamed 1930’s elegance with a modern twist.
Layla gave a low whistle. The dress couldn’t have been less than a thousand dollars. This was boutique from downtown Seattle, not something you could find at Macy’s. Laying it out on the bed, a tag caught her eye, the price still on it. Five thousand dollars. Layla blinked hard, the game she was about to play sinking in fast. Thinking about Grandma Mimi and how effortlessly elegant she had been in any situation, Layla drew a breath. This was Mimi’s world she was entering, she realized. Here she’d thought she had to be worried that the Hotel was some kind of prostitution scam, but now she was worried she wasn’t elegant enough to do the position. If she had to wear something like this just to meet and greet on her first day, she was going into a whole new ballgame.
A game that was perhaps far more James Bond than she realized.
Readying herself for more opulence, Layla pulled out the next gown. A bright, warm canary yellow, it was slinky, cascading with tasteful silk chiffon ruffles that made the gown move and sway like a bird’s feathers. The next gown was a royal blue, entirely beaded with a peacock-feather pattern, again with a long, draping beaded train that would slither as she walked. Layla looked at all three gowns laid out on the bed, not one of them less than five thousand dollars, and the beaded one actually seven thousand, knowing they would all fit. Looking in a second bag, she found matching stiletto heels for each dress, and the third bag held three different cases of stunning jewelry with exquisite gems in matching sets.
Holy fuck.
It was suddenly too much. Layla’s mind fled, gazing at all that opulence. Counting the jewelry, this was probably more than a hundred thousand dollars of evening-wear laid out upon the bed. Heat flushed through Layla, not passion now, but a sensation of shame. She didn’t know where it came from but suddenly there was a small voice inside her telling her she wasn’t good enough to enter this world that Adrian inhabited – and that Mimi once had. That she wasn’t good enough to work at a hotel where royalty were a common fixture. That she wasn’t good enough for any of this. Tears suddenly filled Layla’s eyes and she rose, moving to the partition and opening it.
“John?”
Sitting in his chair, again on his phone, he looked up. Seeing her distress, he rose quickly, setting the phone down on the table and moving straight to her, catching her up in his big arms. Instantly, Layla’s breath began to hitch, tears rising fast to her eyes and spilling. She couldn’t get enough air; couldn’t understand what was happening or what would be expected of her. Her head whirling, she shuddered in the big man’s arms, and he cradled her close to his warm, strong chest.
“Whoa… easy.” John’s basso voice was soothing and his chest held a nice rumble as Layla shivered, trying to hold back her sudden break. Clutching his strong back, she gulped air, not minding that she touched his gun-rig beneath his jacket. It was strangely comforting, and she buried herself in his chest, feeling his big hand stroke softly down the curls that escaped from her twist. The smell of spice and orange peel eased through the cabin, though Layla couldn’t exactly tell where it came from.
“You ok?” John rumbled at last, soft and kind.
“I don’t know.” Layla answered honestly, breathing in his good, warm musk. She realized that it held a hint of cinnamon and jasmine, as if he’d spent too much time around his employer or perhaps their laundry was done together.
“You can do this, Layla,” John’s deep voice rumbled, the vibrations in his chest soothing her as much as his words. Petting his hand down her hair again, he rumbled, “Adrian wouldn’t have chosen you for this if you couldn’t do it.”
“How is he so sure?” She whispered, worry flooding her along with a wash of that infernal heat again.
“Hey.” Pulling back slightly, John looked down and Layla looked up, seeing his brown eyes drowning with a tender emotion. “You got this. This isn’t more tough than what you went through two years ago. Just keep your wits around you, learn fast, and channel Mimi. She was a rockstar of a lady.”
And looking up, Layla realized something. “You met her, my grandmother Mimi. You knew her.”
“Adrian knew her.” John’s smile was kind. “She was his family’s favorite songstress for decades, back in the day. Their family has all her albums; his parents adored her. You know that spontaneous trip your grandmother took to Morocco six years back?”
Layla blinked, finally understanding something. “Mimi went to stay with Adrian’s family.”
“She did.” John chuckled. “Photos are all around Adrian’s study. It was before my time, but your grandmother and Adrian’s parents were tight. It’s partly how Adrian knew about you. Your grandmother had the most amazing things to say about her only granddaughter. She had confidence in you. If she were here, I’m sure she’d say the same thing.”
