I continue through the hotel. Around me, the hum ofawareness might be in response to the two men in black flanking my body through the shiny lobby.
Woah. It. Is. Beautiful. An older hotel with modern renovations, deep red carpet and black leather sofas, thick, round pillars holding up high ceilings adorned with carvings, and gold travertine tiled walls. Masculine and strong to match the man who owns the space?—
And everyone in it.
The receptionist grips the phone at her ear, her lips moving fast, eyes anchored on me as I approach. With a slim figure, long curly black hair that looks soft to touch, and dark skin, she’s pretty.Pretty, just like my lingerie.
She hangs up the moment I stop at her counter, her eyes wide, startled. About what, I don’t know. I’m not mean—I’m not a spoilt Mafia Princess! Not yet.
“Mr Butcher is on level fifty-five.” She passes me an elevator card. “It’s lovely that you’ll be staying with us, Mrs Butcher. Please call down if you need anything.”
Am I staying?
“Thank you,” I say, stifling the confusion in my voice.
I go to the elevators, turn to face the henchmen, and watch them stop just outside the steel doors. A lady in a dress-suit tries to catch my elevator, but they block her and press the button for a second lane. The doors ping and close before my eyes, shutting me inside. I sigh. Alone.
As the lift ascends, I mull over all the things I am going to say. Play it cool? ‘I was just in the neighbourhood.’ Or be real and authentic—he sees straight through me, anyway? ‘I miss you! Why are you in a hotel? Are you here all night?’ Or maybe I should act?—
The doors part, and there he stands.
I peer up at him, tall and formidable, a perfectly elegant man in a tailored black suit, dark tie loose around his collar asif he’s finished for the day, hair a little messy from his fingers feeding through it out of frustration.
God, this man.
Breathtaking.
“Fuck you, Sir,” I blurt out.
Where did that come from?
His brow lifts. “Well, hello, little deer.”
I huff, losing my internal battle. He is smooth and beautiful and powerful. His entire existence bewitches my resolve. “Pretty?” I sound as petulant as I feel. “That’s it?”
“Very,” he agrees, unshaken.
I stomp directly into the room.
House-trained, never!
Ahead of me, the entire wall is a vast sweeping window. Through it, The District is like a tiny model city that this man gazes down on like God.Fuck.Spinning to face him, I cross my arms over my chest. “You just left this morning? No goodbye?”
“I said goodbye, and I gave you a kiss. I swept your hair from your face. I didn’t want to disturb you further, sweet girl. You were up with Ash for two hours last night.”
Sweet girl?“Am I?”
He clasps his hands in front of him. “Are you what?”
“Am I your sweet girl? Or a fiancé who doesn’t need the same amount of attention? Put a baby in it, put a ring on it? Make it obsessed with you. Fuck you.”
Woah.
He rakes his attentive gaze over my body, from my ballet flats to the blouse I’m wearing. “Come here. Now.” He opens his arms for me to walk into, the gesture activating my feet as if I were wired to obey him.
I dart across the room and into his embrace. Melting into him, I nuzzle his suit, smelling cologne and something sweet, like cigars or chocolate. “I’m sorry.”
“How much whiskey have you had?”
