Her assistant’s commentary about Maeve’s sex life—or lack thereof—cemented my plan.
The woman’s wound tighter than a fucking spring. She’s ripe for seduction, just waiting for someone to release all that pressure. I plan to be the one who provides that relief.
Then, once she’s exposed, inch by delicious inch, I’ll collect the information I require, reclaim Doyle, and disappear.
I approach the glass window and watch the waves roll in toward the shore. Between the view and Maeve’s hot little body, this job has the potential to become my favorite by a mile.
Let the games begin.
Chapter 5
Maeve
My heels click across the marble floor as I race out of the elevator and onto the fifth floor, smoothing down my hair to prevent my hands from balling into fists.
I could kill my father. He sent me on a wild goose chase to find some ridiculously specific mineral water for hisspecial guestin the penthouse, and now I’m nearly late for my dinner with Kellin.
Serving as Declan’s errand girl has long since gotten old. Frustration simmers low in my chest, but I shove the emotion down even deeper. As much as I’d love to hit the spa or even the rooftop patio for a quick break, I don’t have time. Not when my dream of buying Declan out of the Cypress is finally in sight.
The hallway that leads to Emerald & Oak curves around the west side of the hotel. To my left, an entire wall of windows showcases Santa Monica Beach and the pier, which glows in the twilight as the sun sinks beyond the water.
The pale gray carpet beneath my feet leads straight to the glass double doors, which are left open during restaurant hours. Beyond the glass, a modern steakhouse with warm oak flooring, tasteful floral wallpaper, and green velvet seating awaits.
Emerald & Oak is one of my favorite spots in the hotel. I designed the restaurant from the studs, and I’m proud that it’s become a hot spot for locals and tourists alike.
Once I step through the doors, I catch the eagle-eyed gaze of the hostess. Phoebe Palmer is a red-haired beauty with a dancer’s body, all lithe limbs and perfect balance topped with a messy bun. Her bright eyes log all the dining-room activity, and her smile dazzles even the grouchiest of guests.
She purses her lips as soon as I stop in front of the black host stand.
“What?” I run my palms over my simple navy dress and glance down. Nothing amiss, as far as I can tell. “Do I look all right?”
Phoebe picks up a menu from the podium. “You look stunning, as always. Your date just defies the laws of physics.”
The stomach flutters that vanished once Kellin retreated inside his suite kick up again. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll see.” With a widening smile, she leads me through the restaurant to the elevated, exclusive VIP section we reserve for high-profile guests and associates.
Eric Melanson inclines his blond head as we approach the green velvet rope that divides the VIPs from the rabble of the restaurant. He’s one of my favorite members of hotel security. Always quiet, always polite, with a maturity beyond his twenty-one years. Tonight, he’s assigned to the restaurant, which generally involves escorting wasted businessmen back to their rooms and playing bouncer here at the rope.
Granted, we rarely have issues. I chose to post a security guard in the restaurant for my own peace of mind, and I’ve come to appreciate Eric’s calm, collected abilities. I’ll be gutted when he graduates and starts med school.
Phoebe and I climb the short set of steps after Eric unclips the rope for us.
My mouth goes dry, and for a few heartbeats, I forget to breathe.
Now I understand what Phoebe meant.
The flutters in my stomach grow stronger. With his gaze fixed on the window and a perfect, statuesque profile, Kellin may as well be a living, breathingGQmagazine spread.
Thisis how he dresses for business meetings?
Crisp, clean, freshly pressed lines. Another exquisitely tailored deep gray suit that fits his impressive body like a glove. The black button-down beneath his jacket is undone at the top, highlighting his Adam’s apple and the distinct divot between his razor-straight collarbones.
He appears relaxed, one hand resting over his knee. His other arm balances on the white tablecloth, an understated silver Rolex accentuating his wrist.
Keeping my feet moving forward requires a monumental effort. The sight of him buzzes warmth from the back of my neck down to my tailbone.
What’s that saying about devils in disguise? If temptation is the main defining feature of a devil, then there’s one sitting in my dining room.
