“Does it?” I ask, lifting a brow.
The corners of Sebastian's lips twitch, the ghost of a smile. “Of course.”
The elevator doors open, and we step forward into a whole new world.
“Wow,” I murmur, as Sebastian guides me past two armed guards standing watch near the entrance.
Luxury drips from every corner of the hotel lobby, from the deep crimson velvet of the couches to the gold-limned chandeliers and smooth marble floors. It feels lush in a way I’ve never experienced before, the shimmering light kept to a level just bright enough to illuminate passageways and the Botticelli beauties painted on the walls. There are no windows. No natural light. It’s as if we’re hidden away from the world, separate from it. It stirs something inside me.
Want. Need. Desire.
“Ah. Mr. Sterling. And Mrs. Sterling.” An elegant, older woman moves forward from the ornate concierge desk to greet us. She inclines her head toward me in acknowledgement. “Welcome to the Second Circle. I’m Francesca. You’ll be very well taken care of here, I assure you.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “But I’m not Mrs. Ster?—”
“The staff has been informed that you are here as Alec’s personal guest,” Sebastian says smoothly, talking over me. “They will be referring to you by our name, when not in private.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that. Not sure why the idea of being called Mrs. Sterling sends a delighted thrill through me.
“Jonathan?” Francesca calls. An enthusiastic, trim man appears at her side almost instantly, clapping his hands together in excitement. “Please take Mrs. Sterling’s bags and animal companion up to the penthouse and?—”
“Not the penthouse,” Sebastian interrupts, voice sharp as he stares her down. “Give her the Goddess Suite.”
Francesca’s brows rise, but she doesn’t argue. “Of course. Too many memories, I presume?" She doesn’t wait for him to answer. Turning back to the attendant, she says, “Run ahead andmake sure the Goddess Suite is prepared for Mrs. Sterling and her incoming guest.”
“Right away!”
“Penthouse not grand enough for me?” I ask in a low voice, as Sebastian leads me through a luxurious side passage toward an alcove housing more elevators.
“Nothing ever could be.” He stops, and to my surprise he moves closer to me, dipping his head to press a delicate kiss to my lips.
Oh. I like this, this more intimate side of him. I slide my hand up to the nape of his neck and lean into him, savoring the feeling of his body against mine.
“Sir?”
Sebastian jerks back. We both turn.
A beautiful woman stands near the elevators watching us, her long black hair pulled into loose braids, dressed in a bright yellow crop top and a flowing bohemian skirt.
“You don’t need to call me that,” Sebastian says stiffly. He’s tense, suddenly, shoulders drawn back.
She tilts her head in bemusement, but nods. “Of course. Mr. Sterling,” she amends. Then she turns her attention to me, giving me a bright smile. “Mrs. Sterling. I’m Victoria. But you can call me Vicky. Francesca sent me to take you on a tour of our facilities and show you to your room.”
“Of course she did,” Sebastian mutters, adjusting his glasses. He lets out an irritated breath. “Vicky, this is Sydney. Sydney, this is my friend Vicky.”
Vicky approaches me with a radiant, unabashed smile. “May I touch you?” she asks.
A bit taken aback, I nod. She wraps her arms around me in a warm, unexpected hug. “It’s good to meet you, Sydney. I promise you we’ll take good care of you here.” She takes myhand, tugging me toward the elevator. “Your room is still being prepared, but I have so much to show you!”
“Wait!” Sebastian says. He stands planted in the hall, back stiff and his jaw tight. His eyes flick between the two of us. Then he steps forward, taking my face in his hands, and pulls me into one last lingering, possessive kiss.
“Call me if you need anything at all,” he murmurs against my lips. He presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, fingers tracing my jaw, before he forces himself to step away.
I’m blushing when he finally lets me go. Next to me, Vicky is struggling to hide her own smile as he walks off, disappearing down the hallway and out of sight.
“He likes you,” Vicky says in an excited voice. “That’s not like him.”
No. It’s not. My cheeks burn, flooded with heat. I have to clear my throat twice before I can speak again. “Are the two of you close?” I ask her.
