by Joya Ryan
“Are you going to see him again?”
“No,” I said. “He is a client, an important one by his room, and dating clients is against corporate policy.”
“What if he wants to see you again?”
Last night was amazing. But like the early spring sun blaring through the window, reality hit hard.
“Can’t happen. I could lose my job.” Not to mention the fact that I had a one-night stand and didn’t even know the guy’s full name. That could be a good thing though. He was just passing through. A jetsetter who held meetings in big cities and was gone before the week was through.
He had flicked a switch in me that disregarded consequence and gave way to stupid hormones. It had been so nice shedding all the stress for just one night.
The way he looked at me…as though he wanted to devour me. No one had ever looked at me like that, and it felt good. Still, I knew better than to jeopardize my career, especially when my parents depended on my paychecks.
“I need this job, Emma. I can’t afford to mess it up, no matter how sexy the guy is.”
“Well, that depends,” Emma tapped her chin. “How sexy are we talking?”
I couldn’t hide the stupid grin on my face. “Really sexy.”
She shrugged. “Then I think it was worth it. No offense, but you’ve been walking around like a zombie of misery and this is the first time I’ve seen you smile since I moved in. Everyone needs a break from reality every once in a while.”
I looked at my hands. I did need a break. Something in Preston’s eyes, in the way his heat surrounded me, and how the smell of him had every reasonable thought scattering out the window.
Getting lost, feeling alive, breaking the rules, I just needed it. Needed him. Truth be told I felt a little lighter this morning. But it was morning, and time to get back to my life.
Another soothing breath. How many times had I told my best friend Kate to just breathe? It was time I took my own advice and calm my nerves. In the middle of a perfect inhale, my phone rang.
I hustled to snatch it from my purse. Caller I.D. said it was the hotel.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Megan, it’s Brooke. I need you to come in this afternoon please.”
“Ah, it’s my day off.”
Emma picked up her backpack and mouthed, “Gotta run. See you later,” and winked.
I nodded as she slipped out the door.
“Yes, well, something important has come up and I need you to come in at noon,” Brooke continued.
My blood froze. They knew. Somehow I’d had been caught and now I was going to lose my job. Bile rose in my throat. Had Mr. Suit told? Complained?
“I can’t today.” I really couldn’t. My dad’s specialist had agreed to call me at one o’clock and give me an update on yesterday’s appointment. My mom was counting on me and I couldn’t risk not getting back in time.
“I suggest that you find the time.” Brook lowered her voice and it sounded like she was cupping her hand around the phone. “The request came from high up.”
“You mean Bill?”
Bill Chappie was the general manager and never took time to converse with the lowers unless there was a problem. And apparently there was one and it started in the penthouse.
“No, Megan,” Brooke whispered. “I mean corporate. And it was red-flagged.”
Oh God…
My body shook slightly and I clutched the phone against my ear.
“N-noon is fine.”
“Good. And good luck.”
The line when dead, and so did my blood pressure.
***
“He wants you to meet him in his office,” Brooke said when I walked up to the front desk.
“Who wants me in what office?”
Brooke looked around and then lowered her voice. Though she and I technically had the same job title, she was twenty years older and had a mother hen vibe, which was oddly comforting.
“Mr. Strauss. He’s in his office in his hotel asking for you.”
“The office upstairs?”
She nodded.
John Strauss held office hours at this hotel maybe four times a year. I had never actually seen him but he was rumored to be a nice man in his seventies with white hair.
The only other thing I knew was that he apparently never let anyone know when he decided to randomly drop in. As Brooke so kindly pointed out, it was his hotel—one of the many—so it should be no surprise. But my shock came from the timing. The Strauss office was on the same floor as the penthouse. Last night, I had actually looked at the door on the opposite end of the hall while I was being kissed down by Preston.
My stomach plummeted and I could actually feel my face pale. Was John Strauss in his office last night? Did he arrive early this morning? Maybe he saw me sneak out? The options were limitless but the end result would likely be the same: my termination.
“Did he say why he wanted to see me?”
Brooke looked up from the computer. “He just said to call you in because he needed to discuss an issue about last night.”
All the breath coaching in the world couldn’t help my lungs in that moment. Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t freaking breathe. I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear hoping the small task would stop the trembling in my fingers. It didn’t.
I ran my palms down the front of my pants and adjusted my sweater. I wasn’t in my normal business skirt and button-up but I still looked better than casual. Thank goodness because apparently I had to go face Mr. Strauss.
“Thanks, Brooke.”
I walked down the corridor and turned the corner. There was a private hall with several business rooms, one of which was where we held our staff meetings. I used the express elevator at the back of the office and headed to the top floor where Mr. Strauss had his office. At this rate, I was praying I wouldn’t run into Preston since check-out was at eleven.
Coming face to face with the office door, I chanced a look over my shoulder at the penthouse entrance. Funny how a panel of white wood, a brass doorknob and some shiny hinges made my knees weak. Of course, the memories that accompanied that door also escalated my heart rate. I looked back at the task before me, banishing last night from my mind the best I could, and knocked on the office door.
A low voice called out, instructing me to enter.
Deep breath, I reminded myself.
Walking in, I kept my eyes on the floor. No matter how many times I tried to look confident, I ended up feeling—
“Guilty.” Mr. Strauss’ voice rang out.
“Excuse me?” I looked up and—
Oh. Holy. God.
“I said, guilty Miss Riley. You look guilty. Tell me, have you done something wrong?”
My mouth hung open and I gaped, because standing behind a massive mahogany desk in a sleek three-piece suit and perfectly combed dark hair was—
“Preston? I thought I was here to see Mr. Strauss.”
He folded his arms and grinned wide. Apparently I missed the joke. Which was what this had to be. A joke.
“I am John Preston Strauss.”
“But…you’re not old.”
He smirked. “You must be thinking of my father, John Charles Strauss. Either that or my older brother John Charles Junior.”
“Wait, you all are named John?”
“I think after last night you’re safe to call me Preston,” he said with a wink.
I reminded myself to ask my mother later if I was born with a heart arrhythmia because what was going on in my chest felt like a war zone. Between shock and awe lay a meltdown, and I was on the brink of losing it.
“Sit,” he said and motioned to the chair on the other side of the desk. He took his seat gracefully as I fumbled into mine.
Words! I needed words. But the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “I ah…I’m—”
“You left,” he interrupted my mumbling. “You left me last night.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting him to say. Ther
e was no emotion behind the declaration indicating he cared either way. Just a mere statement of events.
I had no idea what to make of this guy or his motives. But I thought we had both been clear on what last night was. A one-time thing. And technically I had left early this morning, but judging by the look on his face that fact wouldn’t help my case.
“Forgive me, Mr. Strauss, but isn’t leaving the protocol?”
“Again with the rules.” He grinned and rested his elbow on the chair’s armrest and placed his face between his thumb and first finger. “And, yes, it is. I just find it odd. Usually, I don’t fall asleep before I see a woman out.”
“Lucky me,” I said, then snapped my mouth shut.
This whole thing was effed up to say the least and I was treading very dangerous water. The more the moment sank in and the shock wore off, the more I realized the truth. He knew I was an employee and still asked me back to his room. This had been a set-up. He seduced me dishonestly and on purpose.
“Whatever it is that has you sporting that angry scowl,” he waved his finger in the direction of my face, “I suggest you stop.”
My anger flared. The same feelings I had been running from—the feelings this man had made me forget—were crashing into me full force. I was lied to, deceived and played. Again. And one stupid decision had landed me on the opposite side of the desk from my “boss” as he sat there holding my future in his hands.
No way. Not this time. Not again.
“Is this a joke? Some sick game you play with your employees?”
“No.” His tone was harsh and I felt like I had just overstepped.
Yes, I was mad and ready to fight, defend, do what I had to do to stifle my way out of this mess, but circumstances or not, Preston was imposing as hell. And every bit as sexy as I remembered.
Though he clearly shaved, his strong jaw smoother looking that last night, his eyes were still a vibrant green made more dazzling in the bright light filtering through the large windows. Crisp and cut in his perfectly tailored suit, his body radiated every bit of strength and finesse as it had last night. Calm, controlled and confident as sin. He knew it and I knew it. The only question now: What was his angle?
“Why am I here, Preston?”
“You rushed off so quickly I figured I owed you a proper good morning.” Again, I couldn’t detect a hint of emotion in his statement. Was he kidding? Serious?
“It’s the afternoon and I was getting along just fine without the sentiment.” I crossed my arms trying really hard to ignore the stupid smirk on his face, the first indication that he was clearly loving this.
He infuriated me. I came to New York for a fresh start and a good job. I thought I had a no strings, one-night stand and now here I was staring down what could be another huge mistake. In the end, I only had myself to blame, but he could have been honest about who he was. And what was even more annoying was the way my body tingled and sent all the good parts into hyper drive with one flash of his green eyes.
“You said you were just passing through.”
“It’s my hotel,” he sat back, “and I think I’ll stay in town for a bit.”
“Am I fired?”
“Why would I fire you?”
“Because you tricked me into sleeping with you and—”
“Tricked?” He sat forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “If memory serves you begged me to fuck you.”
All the air in my lungs burned and I couldn’t let go of the breath I was holding.
“Like I said,” he continued, obviously happy he had rendered me speechless. “I’ll be staying for a while. Due to recent developments, it’s clear my staff needs a more hands-on approach in management.”
“I am management,” I grated between clenched teeth, my mind flashing back to last night.
“Yes, you are. And I can see why we get such high ratings in hospitality.”
My blood boiled out of control, my vessels serving no more purpose than a pressure cooker. Embarrassment flooded and every pore was tainted with confusion. Had he called me in to simply mock me?
No way was I going to be the butt of another joke, let alone another man.
“You know what,” I stood up, “I’m an adult and proud of the person I am. I’m not the type of girl who makes a habit of having a one-night stand but last night I did, and that’s all you were. If you want to try to make me feel bad or cheap about that, you’re wasting your time. So either fire me or get over it.”
The slightest grin tugged at his lips. “Was I your first?”
“What?” I snapped.
“Was I your first promiscuous sexual encounter?”
I bit my lip to keep the truth from spilling out. Yes, he was. He was actually the only encounter other than my ex Brian. And that one night had been more amazing than all two years put together with Brian.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “Now, it is neither my intention to fire or degrade you. But I must admit, I’m exceedingly angry with you.”
“Why?” The question came out as a stunned whisper.
“I am your boss, I have made an attempt to be honest with you and have a conversation, yet you tell me I was nothing more than a single night.” He pouted a little, which I didn’t buy for a second. “That’s hurtful you know.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I was balancing somewhere between fear and awe. He was harsh and dominant, yet had a seemingly easygoing personality. But I didn’t know how far that humor went. It was like walking on a mirror slicked with oil, any second you could either slip and cut yourself or fall on your ass. Either way, it was going to be messy.
“I’d like you to dine with me tonight.”
I frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“With all due respect, Mr. Strauss, you’re my boss and as I said before, I’m not that type of girl. What happened last night was a fluke. I don’t normally act like that.”
“Are you dumping me?”
“What? No, I—”
The smiled playing on his face stated that he was obviously toying with me.
“You intrigue me, Megan. I’d like to have a meal with you.”
I shook my head.
“Why? Because you’re not ‘that kind of girl’? Then tell me, what kind of girl are you?”
I decided to go with honesty because at this point, the only thing I had left to save was my job.
“I’m the kind that likes relationships built on trust and respect. Where both people know what they’re getting into.” I paused and glared at him for good measure. “And I want a legitimate connection.”
He nodded as if thinking over an offer. “These are practical terms.”
“What? I didn’t mean—I wasn’t proposing any terms.”
“You know the one thing I find odd about this whole situation, Miss Riley?”
“You find only one thing odd?”
“You don’t seem to care who I am.”
Oh God, here we go. I get it. He had probably a billion dollars and hotels around the world and blah, blah, blah. Lots of people had money and things. The fact that he owned the hotel I currently worked at—thus having power over my job—didn’t sit well. But beyond that, no, I didn’t care. Money had never intimidated me. Besides, I had been around Adam, Kate’s fiancé, a lot and he was as rich and domineering as they came.
“No, I don’t care who you are, Mr. Strauss.”
He nodded. “You’ve given me a lot to consider. I’ll be in touch Miss Riley.” I opened my mouth to argue again but he cut me off. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are, ‘Yes, Preston, I’d love to have dinner with you tonight,’ then you can see yourself out.”
Chapter Three
“Mom?
“Hi Honey, I’m here,” my mother’s voice rang out over the line.
The cab took a hard right, weaving through afternoon traffic as I headed back to my apartment. It wasn’t the ideal place to take the call, but I
was happy I hadn’t missed it.
“I’m on the line as well, Megan,” Dr. Forman said. “I’ve been speaking with your mother and wanted to share your father’s prognosis.”
“Okay.” I chewed my thumbnail and stared blankly at the back of the blue driver seat.
Lukewarm terror slugged through my veins and my fingers felt cold. Fear. Pure fear was slowly simmering.
“Your father’s cognition is rapidly changing and worsening. The rate of decay I detected after examining him has me leaning toward vascular dementia.”
“And what does that mean? Is it treatable? I read that dementia can be treated in some cases.”
The doctor’s long pause didn’t do much for my confidence in hoping that my father would—could—get better.
“Megan, vascular dementia is typically caused by a series of small strokes.”
“But my dad has never had a stroke.”
“Yes, he has, honey. We just thought it was best, with everything else going on, to…we didn’t want to worry you.” My mother’s voice was strained and I could hear it in her tone that she was blaming herself.
My eyes burned and I focused harder on the small blue stitching in front of me to keep from breaking down.
“The strokes have caused vascular lesions in his brain,” the doctor went on.
“Can you treat him for that?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, the lesions, like your father’s dementia itself, are irreversible.”
My heart sunk so low I couldn’t feel its pulse in my ribcage anymore.
“But, preventative care in these situations is essential. While the damage has been done, we can monitor and treat your father in the hopes that we can help prevent any further strokes.”
“So, that’s a positive thing,” I whispered, trying to grasp onto any piece of good news I could get.
“Yes, it is,” my mother said.
She must be thinking the same thing I was. Preventative care, treatment and constant monitoring equaled expensive.
I shook my head. Whatever it took to make sure my father received the best medical care, I would do. Whatever the cost.
