I ignore his ribbing because I’ll have my revenge on him later. “You didn’t have to,” I say softly, but my hands carefully unwrap the sandwich like it’s something precious.
“I wanted to.” His expression softens. “Besides, someone has to make sure you eat something besides spreadsheets and calendar entries.”
We share lunch in comfortable silence. When Thatcher finally returns to his desk, I find myself thinking about Lior’s knowing looks and careful observations.
Maybe he’s right, maybe I am different lately. Maybe Thatcher’s influence has changed something fundamental in me. The thought should terrify me. Instead, I find myself not caring.
19
THATCHER
The marble lobbyof the hotel gleams like fresh snow. I almost want to carry my wheeled suitcase so it doesn’t leave any marks on the polished floor.
I feel like I’ve been living someone else’s life since I stepped outside my apartment this afternoon and found Pierce waiting for me, looking like Prince Charming.
He upgraded my plane ticket to first class, so we could sit together. Then we were picked up by the nicest driver, who told me about all the New York landmarks we drove past on our way to the hotel.
And now I have to come to terms with the fact that I might be staying in a palace for the next few nights. How is this my life?
“Good evening,” the desk clerk greets us with warmth. “Checking in?”
“Yes, I should have two rooms reserved.” I fumble slightly with my ID. “Under Charles and Dellcourt? Or maybe they’re both under Van Stern Enterprises.”
Her perfectly manicured fingers tap across the keyboard while I try not to fidget. “I’m showing only oneroom available. The Van Stern reservation.” She says smiling, and just like that, I go from the princess phase of Cinderella to the ash-sweeping phase of Cinderella. Except even then, she had somewhere to sleep.
I wonder if the hotel has a spare broom cupboard.
My stomach drops as I start to sputter a response, but then Pierce’s familiar warmth presses against my back, accompanied by that voice that never fails to make my skin tingle. “That won’t be a problem,” he says smoothly, his hand settling on my waist with a casual intimacy that feels shocking in this public space.
What do you mean? I have nowhere to stay. That is very muchconsidered a problem.
I glance up to find him wearing a smirk that makes my belly clench.
“Mr. Dellcourt, is that right?” The clerk’s professional demeanor brightens further. “Of course, sir. The executive suite is ready for you both.”
Oh…oh!
Pierce’s thumb traces small circles against my back as she processes our check-in, the touch hidden from view but setting my nerve endings on fire. I focus on breathing normally, on not leaning into his warmth like I desperately want to.
The elevator arrives with a soft chime. Pierce’s hand hasn’t left my waist, and in the confined space, his warmth fills every available molecule of air. Our shoulders brush as the car begins its ascent, and I watch our reflections in the mirror drift closer together with each floor we pass.
“Breathe, Thatcher,” Pierce whispers in that voice that makes my heart skip. His smile in the mirror carries none of its usual restraint. “We’re allowed to exist in the same space.”
The words ease the knot in my throat, and I lean slightlyinto his touch as we reach our floor. The hallway stretches before us in elegant cream and gold, thick carpet muffling our footsteps as we approach our door. Pierce’s keycard slides home with ease, and suddenly, we’re crossing the threshold.
We’re sharing a hotel room, something Pierce may or may not have planned. I’m simultaneously thrilled and terrified. What if I accidentally set the carpet on fire?
The suite takes my breath away. Floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the city like artwork, plush furnishings in subtle earth tones, and a massive king bed that makes heat rise in my cheeks. But what really captures my attention is how Pierce transforms the instant the door clicks shut behind us.
His tie loosens first. The suit jacket follows, draped over a nearby chair. When he turns to face me, his smile holds none of its usual edge.
“Come here,” he says softly, and I go without hesitation, drawn by the warmth in his voice. His hands find my waist again as I reach him, pulling me closer until I feel his heartbeat against my chest.
“Did you plan this?” I ask.
His laugh vibrates through both our bodies as he leans down to capture my mouth. I melt into him completely. His hands slide into my hair as the kiss deepens, messing up my curls more than they usually are.
When we finally break apart, both breathing heavily, Pierce’s smile transforms in a way that makes his whole face look younger. “I promise I am only guilty of wanting you closer than the room next door,” he murmurs against my lips. “Welcome to New York.”
