by Jasmine Hill
Makayla stared at the phone after Donovan had hung up. She felt like she was in an alternate universe and she’d just been run over with a bulldozer named Donovan King. She needed to speak to her mother. It appeared that she knew a hell of a lot more about what was going on than Makayla did.
Chapter Ten
The rest of the week flew by and Friday came upon Makayla quickly. She could hardly believe that she was actually going away to Madrid, and with Donovan King, no less.
She had taken her mother to the treatment facility, and had been immensely relieved when they’d arrived to find a lovely hospital with beautiful grounds. Her mother had a private room and all the staff seemed professional and very friendly. Also, the facility was highly recommended by her mum’s doctor and had an excellent success rate. It seemed that Donovan’s parents contributed a sizeable donation each year that assisted low-income patients, and one call to the board of directors had got her mum an immediate placement. Makayla should have felt guilty for bumping someone off the list, but her mother was ill and in desperate need of professional attention, so she consoled herself rather easily.
Now they were comfortably ensconced in their first-class seats, sipping champagne. Makayla felt overwhelmed by all the events of the week. Her stomach was tied in knots and she couldn’t quite believe that she was going away with a man she had only just met.
Their seats were located a little farther apart than she’d expected, but such was the layout of first class and their private cubicles. She was happy for the time alone to think, and soon enough, they’d be spending a lot of time together. Donovan, in a seat a little ahead of hers, lounged comfortably while reading through a document.
Makayla hadn’t missed the flight attendant’s interest in him. She’d been extremely professional, of course, but her furtive glances and wide smile hadn’t gone unnoticed—at least not by Makayla. And it didn’t help that the flight attendant was tall and beautiful and obviously worldly—totally Donovan’s type.
She sipped more champagne and nibbled on hors d’oeuvres that the flight attendants had served.
What she was doing was quite reckless. What did she really know about this man? Surprisingly, her mother had thought the exact opposite of him. She had been excited that Makayla had the opportunity to go away with a man as handsome and successful as Donovan. He’d managed to charm Josephine so much that she could see no wrong in him.
Makayla did have a security fallback. She had a small amount of money that she’d saved over the years, and it would be enough to get her back to Australia should the need arise. It gave her a feeling of assurance to know that she wasn’t totally at the mercy of Donovan’s desires, and if things between them didn’t work out, she had an escape option. She hoped with everything in her being that she wouldn’t have to use it. She had no idea where Donovan wanted their relationship to go, if in fact that was what it was, but she’d take things day by day and enjoy the moment. She’d live carefree for a time and enjoy doing it. He was no doubt classing their trip together as a fling. Perhaps he had an itch to scratch. Was it the challenge to get a virgin in the sack? Although, if that’s all it was to him, he was definitely pulling out all the stops. If she were honest, she hoped that he wanted more than just a fling, because she definitely wanted more. She yawned, overcome with weariness, the hectic week having finally caught up with her. Perhaps she could close her eyes for a little while. After all, they had fourteen hours before they touched down in Dubai. She had plenty of time to catch up on some sleep.
Donovan hadn’t spoken to Makayla since they’d boarded the plane, and he wanted to assure himself that she was all right. She’d been quiet leading up to the flight and he hadn’t had much time to spend with her beforehand. He knew his actions to get her where he wanted her would seem manipulative and high-handed to the most easygoing of people. But that’s how he was used to doing things. He liked control, he liked getting what he wanted and he did everything in his power to make it happen. He just hoped that he hadn’t overwhelmed her with his officiousness.
He packed away the documents he’d been reading and unlatched his seatbelt. They’d reached cruising altitude a while ago and the seatbelt sign had been switched off. He made his way to Makayla’s seat and stood over her sleeping form. She lay curled up in the large airline seat like a kitten, her thick eyelashes fanning against her pale cheekbones. She was so lovely, even more so because she didn’t realize it and didn’t play on her beauty. She was guileless and perfectly sweet with it. When he’d picked her up to take her to the airport, he’d been gratified to see her wearing the clothes that he’d purchased for her. Black leggings, boots and an oversized, deep amethyst silk blouse. He’d instructed the personal shopper to include shades of blue and purple in her selections, as Donovan loved the way the colors brought out the amazing violet of Makayla’s eyes.
There had been a moment when he’d thought that all his planning would be for nought and that Makayla would refuse to accompany him. Josephine had called him and said that Makayla was being particularly stubborn. In the end, they’d succeeded in talking her round. He knew in part that it was because Josephine had been having a good week. If she’d had one of her downturns, Donovan wasn’t sure that he would have convinced Makayla to leave her mother, even if it was at one of the best treatment facilities in the country. At any rate, he’d breathed a deep sigh of relief when he finally had Makayla packed up and in the car.
He dropped a hand to her head to brush the wayward tendrils from her brow. Fuck, he was having a hard time not touching her. Never had he wanted anything more than to be in her sweet little panties. The waiting was torturing him, but he’d decided that he wanted everything to be perfect. He needed her to be comfortable with him and to enjoy the experience. He’d always prided himself on his self-control. It was what made him who he was, after all, but he had to admit that it was taking every ounce of willpower not to dive on her. It had helped that he’d been busy all week.
The flight attendant appeared at his side. “We’ll be serving a late dinner soon, sir,” she informed him, smiling widely.
“Nothing for the moment, thank you. We’ll have something later.”
Her smile faltered as she looked from him to Makayla. Donovan was aware that she’d been flirting with him, even though she’d hidden it under a professional veneer. He wasn’t arrogant. He was just used to the way women reacted to him.
“Of course, sir.” She gave him a brittle smile. “Can I get you anything now?”
“Just a blanket, thank you.”
He leaned down and unclipped Makayla’s belt then gently lifted her so he could slide into her place. He settled her on his lap. She really was too slight and he hoped that some Spanish food and a holiday would be good for her appetite. She hardly stirred at the intrusion, just nuzzled against his chest and mumbled something in her sleep. He reclined the seat until they were lying flat and tucked her tighter against his chest. It wasn’t like him to want to sleep with a woman cuddled in his arms. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever doing it before. Usually, he preferred his own space and always slept alone, but he was enjoying having her close to him, and he relished the fact that he’d have her to himself for the foreseeable future.
Chapter Eleven
Makayla plastered her face against the window of the limousine. There was so much to see that she was afraid she’d miss something.
Donovan chuckled. “You know, angel, the city will be here tomorrow.”
“I’m so excited,” she enthused, jumping a little in her seat. “I can’t wait to start exploring.”
She was glad to have arrived finally. The flight had been long and had included a three-hour stopover in Dubai, where they’d had a shower in the lounge facilities, and she’d changed into a sundress. She’d also washed and dried her hair and shaved everywhere. She didn’t know what Donovan had planned, but she didn’t want to be caught unawares and in need of some personal grooming—that would be mortifying.
&nb
sp; She’d flown before on a few occasions—however, only within Australia, and definitely never the distance they’d just traveled. She was a little tired, but the excitement of her new surroundings outweighed any residual weariness. Besides, it was early in Madrid, approaching midday, and she’d slept well on the plane. She’d been surprised and delighted to wake up in Donovan’s arms. It had seemed a little out of character for him, he didn’t seem like the type of guy who liked to snuggle, particularly in public, but she wouldn’t complain, she had felt comfortable and safe with him. She’d also liked the fact that the flirty flight attendant seemed to have her nose firmly out of joint when Donovan paid no attention to her and made it quite clear to her that Makayla was the object of his affections.
Donovan took her hand in his. “We’re staying at the Totally Five Star Madrid. You’ll love it. It’s opposite Parque del Buen Retiro, or simply El Retiro to the locals, and it’s part of the best hotel chain that Madrid—or anywhere else in the world—has to offer.”
“Will we be staying in the same room?” she asked innocently.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ve only booked the one room. Does that bother you?”
“Not at all. I’d started to think that something was wrong with me,” she confessed.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “I told you, angel. It’s all about delayed gratification.”
She eyed him curiously. “How’s that working for you?”
He shifted in his seat then leaned down to speak in her ear. “It’s torture. I can’t wait to get into your panties.”
She giggled. Something about their new environment was making her unusually flirtatious. “You mean these panties?” she asked coyly as she lifted her dress to show the champagne-colored silk she was wearing.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You can’t do that to me.”
He grasped her dress and pulled it back down over her thighs. “Trust me,” he said softly, stroking her knee with his index finger. “Let me do things my way.”
She sighed. “I suppose I’ve waited this long—a little longer is hardly going to worry me.”
“We’re here,” Donovan announced.
The limousine pulled to a stop in front of a very impressive-looking building.
“It looks like a palace,” Makayla breathed in awe. “It’s beautiful.”
Donovan smiled. “It did use to be a palace. You will see lots of noble features reminiscent of its royal heritage.”
She stepped from the car and gazed around. Large, ornate pillars and two marble lions framed the grand double entrance doors inlaid with beveled glass. Petunias flowed in colorful abundance from the numerous window boxes, their unusual scent making Makayla instantly reminisce about summers past. Even the fierce little gargoyles perched in varying degrees across the edifice provided a charming addition. A doorman, in full livery, guarded the entry, opening doors and hailing taxis. A pristine red carpet covered the steps, lending a celebrity-like status to guests and leading them into the opulent lobby.
“Come.” Donovan took her arm and led her into the hotel. Instead of a front check-in desk, he guided her to a lounge suite upholstered in a rich floral satin.
“Mr. King, welcome back,” a tall, attractive gentleman in a crisp suit greeted Donovan enthusiastically. “Please, help yourself to some refreshments.” He motioned to a tray with tea, juice and pastries on the table in front of them.
“Thank you, Fernando. I’m happy to be back.” Donovan turned to Makayla. “May I introduce Miss Makayla Carrington? She’ll be staying with me. Makayla, this is Señor Fernando Martínez, the manager here.”
Fernando bowed slightly and took her hand. “Encantado, señorita. Welcome to the Totally Five Star. I’m the manager here, so please let me know if anything is not to your liking.”
“Thank you. But I’m sure everything will be perfect.”
Fernando turned to Donovan. “Your usual suite is ready, Mr. King. I just need to finalize some details with you.”
While Donovan spoke with the manager, Makayla surveyed the glorious refreshments laid out for them. Cut crystal carafes held water and juice, beside them matching tumblers. A three-tiered ceramic cake stand displayed lovely bite-sized morsels of pastries and little finger sandwiches. Dainty matching plates with heavy damask napkins were laid out neatly next to it. The care and attention to detail was extraordinary, and Makayla had never seen anything like it before. It made her feel special and important. She poured herself a glass of juice and took a sip. It was freshly squeezed orange juice and the flavor was fruity and intense. She’d read that Valencia oranges were the best in the world and she was willing to bet that it was from those oranges she was now partaking. She selected a pastry and a finger sandwich and nibbled on each. The sandwich was prawn salad with watercress and tasted divine. She thought that the pastry was what they called churros, but had been made finger-sized to assist with dainty eating and tasted a little like an upmarket donut.
As she ate and sipped her juice, she studied their surroundings. Everything was so grand as to be a little intimidating. Large white and black marble tiles covered the entirety of the lobby floor and a grand piano sat in a corner, polished so highly that she was sure she would see her reflection in the wood. All the fittings were brass, also buffed to a high shine, and antique tables held beautiful, ornate vases that sprouted an exotic array of perfumed orchids. Comfortable, overstuffed armchairs upholstered in rich fabrics sat grouped around the lobby, offering guests private areas to chat and read, and large tapestries depicting different stages in royal history and hunting scenes adorned the walls.
A marble fountain constructed of frolicking sea nymphs, surrounded by a circle of lions, took center stage. The tinkling water providing a whimsical backdrop to the light classical music transmitted throughout the lobby via seemingly invisible speakers.
Above them hung the most magnificent chandelier that she’d ever seen. Composed of thousands of crystal teardrops, the fixture sent fractured light bouncing off the walls around them and sparkling in the fountain’s surface.
She glanced over to where Donovan and Fernando were deep in muted conversation. She couldn’t understand a thing as they were speaking Spanish. She should have guessed that Donovan would be proficient in the language.
Donovan switched to English and stood to shake the other man’s hand. “Thank you, Fernando.”
“My pleasure, Mr. King. Your luggage has been delivered to your suite. Miss Carrington”—he took Makayla’s hand in his own and raised it to his lips—“it was a pleasure to meet you.”
She smiled her thanks, then Donovan quickly reclaimed her, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her to his side. Makayla was a little taken aback by Donovan’s seemingly domineering gesture, but Fernando just smiled benignly.
“We offer many things to amuse, entertain and relax, Miss Carrington. At six-thirty each evening, there is live piano music here in the lobby where you can also take tapas and cava. You will find the Rococo Bar here on the ground floor along with an Asian fusion restaurant. On the top floor, you will find the Five Star Terrace Bar and our three-star Michelin restaurant, which offers a spectacular view of Madrid, and where you can sample specialty Spanish cuisine. There are two outdoor pools and an indoor pool attached to our spa and health facility. We have numerous gyms offering the use of equipment and personal trainers and we provide daily yoga classes. You must browse our boutique located at the far end of the lobby. And if you are interested in doing any traveling or perhaps a tour of our lovely city, just ask your personal butler and he shall organize anything you desire.”
“Thank you, Fernando. Miss Carrington will have ample time to sample the delights that the hotel has to offer,” Donovan responded. “If you’ll excuse us, please. It’s been a long flight and we’d like to freshen up.”
The manager smiled and gestured toward the lifts. “Of course. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”
Donovan swept a h
and from her waist down to her ass and cupped her butt cheek as he urged her toward the elevator bank. She gave him a side look. Donovan definitely wasn’t the type of guy to go for PDA, so why the whole possessive attitude?
They stopped at the elevators where Donovan punched in a sequence of numbers. “We’re staying in one of the penthouse suites,” he said in explanation to her questioning look.
The lift arrived and they stepped inside, the doors gliding silently closed behind them. Donavan stepped closer to her and urged her against the wall of the car, his hands coming up to rest on either side of her head, caging her in as he dipped his head toward hers.
“Are you tired?” he asked, his voice husky and low.
Crazy butterflies sprang to life deep in Makayla’s belly and a shiver rippled down her spine. “No,” she breathed.
He smirked and dropped his lips to her ear. “Good, because I have a surprise for you when we get to our suite. It’s time. I can’t fucking wait any longer.”
Chapter Twelve
When Donovan opened the door to their suite, the most pungent floral scent hit Makayla. As she stepped over the threshold, the first thing she saw were flowers—bunches of them scattered throughout the rooms in crystal vases and ceramic urns, their summer aroma providing a lovely romantic mood. Filmy gauze curtains fluttered in the warm breeze flowing through the open balcony doors. The decorating theme appeared to be an eclectic mix of old and new, which the decorator had managed with finesse. The whole ambience of the suite appealed to Makayla’s creative designer side, and she guessed that the interior decorator was extremely accomplished to be able to pull off such a combination. The plush carpet boasted a big floral motif that worked well in the large rooms. Crystal ornaments were scattered about on sideboards. Antique trunks and suitcases were stacked on top of each other and used as tables with contemporary original artwork hanging above. A large beveled mirror hung above the mantelpiece, reflecting the room and adding an opulent quality. The whole décor screamed understated sophistication, and she knew instinctively that every item within had been handpicked for a specific purpose and was probably worth more than she’d make in a lifetime.
