She’s quiet as we leave the stadium, get into my BMW, and head to the hotel I call home.
“Oh, this is where I’m staying,” Taylor says, when I pull into the valet at the Baker Hotel.
I try to keep my voice even despite the surprise ricocheting inside me at this revelation. “Me, too.” We’ve been staying under the same roof, so close yet so far away. We get out of the car and walk inside as I reconcile the fact that she’s been inmyhotel this whole time.
“I didn’t realize this was a Davenport hotel.” She looks around the lobby at the grand staircase and the glass ceiling as if with new eyes.
“It’s not. It’s a Baker.” I wink at her. Suddenly, I feel nervous about whether she likes what she sees.
She gasps in jest, placing a palm over her heart. “You’d dare stay in something other than a Davenport hotel?”
Tilting my head, I take in her bright smile and the teasing glint in her eye. It hits me then that she doesn’t know much about the empire I’ve built. It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so damn bad.
I reach out and tug on a strand of her hair, grinning when I say, “It’s mine, Tay baby.” The term of endearment lingers as we stare at each other.
The hotel isn’t just mine—it’s also named for her. Everything I’ve built is named for her. Stella is the nickname I gave herbecause she’s as bright as a star. Not just any star, but mine. The thing that guides me. She always has, even though we didn’t know each other long before we got married, she’s always been my one. My soulmate. The other piece of me. Baker—her last name. Not my family name.
“Yours?” she gapes at me.
I hold the door open for the elevator that will take us to the penthouse, and she steps in beside me.
“Baker is the luxury hotel brand under the Stella Holdings umbrella,” I explain. “We have properties all over the world. Each hotel brand has their own name, but they all roll under the larger corporation.” Catching the sad look on her face, I ask, “What’s that look for?”
“I’m just realizing how much I don’t know about this version of you.”
“It’s a good thing we’re going to dinner then, so you can catch up on all you missed.”
“I’ve stayed at a lot of Baker Hotels over the years because I always liked that it had my name. You named them for me, didn’t you?”
The look she gives me steals my breath—a mixture of hope and longing, that maybe we aren’t as far apart as it once felt.
“Yes,” I respond, inches from her face when the doors open abruptly, effectively ruining the moment.
“Grant, is this the penthouse?”
“It is.”
“I thought we were having dinner.” She quirks an eyebrow.
“We are. I have a private rooftop terrace and thought we could order from the restaurant and watch the sunset while we eat. If you’d rather, we can go back down to the restaurant.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder, indicating back to the elevator.
“No, the terrace sounds great.”
Her genuine smile hits me in the chest. Seeing her in my home, eagerly taking in the space, should make me nervous but it feels right. Like this is always where we were meant to end up.Moving to the wall of windows, I open the doors leading to the terrace so she can make her way outside.
“How about that drink you mentioned?” I ask, removing my suit jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch. The vest quickly follows. When I start rolling up the sleeves of my button down, her eyes latch onto my forearms and I smirk, knowing she likes the show. Her eyes flash to mine, cheeks pink at being caught. Without breaking eye contact, I loosen the tie at my neck. I hate wearing a tie, but the press conference felt like an occasion that called for a tie
“What do you have?” She clears her throat and swallows as if in a trance as she watches my tie fall to the floor at my feet then her eyes are back on my hands as I unbutton my shirt.
“Whatever you want,” I say, my voice coming out huskier than I meant for it to, but being in her presence, being the reason she’s blushing, it just does something to me. Whether we’re still talking about her drink choice or something else, I have no idea because her eyes on me have my dick twitching in my pants, the thought of her being the one to remove my tie and undo my buttons turns me on.
Reaching the third button of my shirt, her breath hitches, telling me she sees the gold chain around my neck. The chain that holds my wedding band. “What do you want?” I ask again, wishing she’d say she wants me, but I know we’re not there yet. Attraction was never our issue, but we’re not the same uninhibited fools we used to be.
“Wine is fine,” she whispers.
Knowing it’s not her first choice, I push back, “What do you really want?”
She clears her throat, finally dragging her eyes from the gold chain back to me. “A stiff drink.”
