The Dirty Hotel King
~A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance~
By Cassandra Dee and Jade Evans
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Kindle Edition
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DEDICATION
To all the girls who adore five star suites with a gorgeous man inside.
NOTE FROM CASSANDRA AND JADE
Hi! Thanks so much for reading The Dirty Hotel King: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance. I hope you enjoy the steam between Rosy and her man.
Plus, be sure to join our Facebook group Alpha Males on Top to hear about new releases, discounts, and freebies.
Love,
Cassie and Jade
ABOUT THIS BOOK
The Dirty Hotel King: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance
I was sold to a powerful hotel king as payment for my dad’s debts.
Rosy’s dad has problems. He’s been unemployed forever, with gambling debts the size of a mountain. When a mysterious hotel magnate offers to buy Rosy for a month, her dad’s only too happy to agree.
Steele’s got more money than he knows what to do with. Beautiful women, fast cars, and glamorous vacations are only the beginning. But when a sweet girl with big brown eyes gets under his skin, the hotel king’s in for a surprise. But what price is he willing to pay to keep Rosy?
Hey Readers – This billionaire bad boy is the kind of guy who leaves you gasping (and wanting) more. As always, we’re in off-the-charts fantasy land with a big dose of happily-ever-after at the end :) I promise, you’ll come out of this one craving more … and more … and more. xoxo, Cassie and Jade
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Dirty Hotel King
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Pregnant By My Boss
Sneak Peek: My Boyfriend’s Boss
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Chapter 1
Rosy
It may sound a little weird, but in my eighteen years I’ve never really thought about how my life will turn out. I live in the city of sin, or what’s formally known was Las Vegas. And while most people come to this town for fun and excitement, I don’t even know the meaning of those words.
Because my stepmom left when I was twelve, effectively ending what had been my childhood, and I began helping my dad with the bills straight away. My real mom died when I was only two – my stepmom had been my sole female role model. Working a variety of odd jobs hasn’t been fun, but helping out at home is my responsibility and I take it seriously. It’s my job to help my dad, and I don’t want him to feel overburdened, what with two women leaving him in a row.
So after graduating high school, I took a job as a housekeeper at the Pink Flamingo, a motel on the outskirts of town, in the hopes of saving up some cash. The first day was hard work. Customers were jerks, and it was obvious that my boss and coworkers thought little of me. Not Betty, though. Betty helped me so much. The older lady’s been at the Pink Flamingo for ages. She taught me how to work quickly, and how to get rid of handsy customers. I admire her sweet yet no-bullshit attitude – now, she’s become something like a surrogate mother to me
But more than a mother figure, Betty is a friend. Someone who listens to me and who treats me like I exist, which makes me sad, but is also true. Some days, I don’t feel that anyone can see me. I’m just an invisble girl with a rag on my head and a broom and mop in my hands.
Last week, after wiping the sweat from my brow, I ripped the sheets off a double bed and threw them into my laundry bin. Aside from Betty, the best thing about the Pink Flamingo is the mindless work which is a relief sometimes. As I remade the bed, my mind drifted to my father again.
Frank isn’t perfect. He hasn’t exactly been the best father. And while I don’t know the dirty details of his marriage to my stepmom, she must have left because her patience ran out. Dad’s always had a gambling problem. He’s always been selfish and materialistic. But he’s my dad. He’s the only family I have in the world. I could never abandon him, not even after he went bankrupt in a bad deal that smelled to the high heavens. Even I could have told him to stay away from that one, but papa dear never listens, especially to his daughter.
Unfortunately, none of that matters now. I have to think about my future and try to figure my own life. The Pink Flamingo may be a run-down motel, but right now, it’s my best chance at stability and helping out at home.
“Rosy, sweetie?”
At the sound of Betty’s soft voice, I looked up to see her standing in the doorway. Unable to hold it in any longer, my cheeks flushed as a hot, frustrated tear dripped down my face. Betty lifted her rough, callused hand to wipe the tears away.
I exhaled sharply and pushed my brown curls out of my face. Looking up at her, I forced a small smile on my face.
“I’m fine, I’m just tired of scrubbing these floors,” I mumbled. Technically my lie wasn’t far from the truth. I was tired of scrubbing the floors, and picking up after noisy guests who just wanted a room to trash. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve had to clear out garbage that made my stomach roil. The Pink Flamingo is most definitely a dump, and no one considers what it’s like having to clean it for a living.
Betty sat down beside me with a groan, shifting on her side to take pressure off of her bad hip. She broke it two years ago after falling down the steps. Our manager, Danny, didn’t seem to care though, and threatened to fire her if she didn’t come back to work right after her surgery. Popping a cigarette in her mouth, Betty took a long drag and exhaled. She handed the cigarette over to me, and I reluctantly took it and breathed in deeply.
We sat in silence, wreathed in smoke, before Betty grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I know you’ve got bigger dreams than this Rosy, dear. We all do. But the only thing that separates you from the rest of us is that you’ve got a whole life ahead of you,” Betty’s raspy voice croaked.
“I know, I’ve got dreams.” I sighed. “But I doubt they’re any good.” When I was little, my stepmom and I used to ride out from our tiny house to see the showgirls. I would admire how glamorous they were and wish that I could be one of them – beautiful and busty and wearing tons of diamonds. Well, I’m eighteen now, and I may have achieved the busty part, but beauty and diamonds are nowhere to be found. If anything, I’m more of a mouse with my wildly curly hair, mud-brown eyes, and stained work clothes. No one anyone would ever mistake for a showgirl, that’s for sure. So much for that dream.
Betty swatted her hand in the air and turned her body to face me.
“Everyone has dreams, sweetheart. What are yours? Teaching? Owning your own business?” Betty asked with her thin, bleach-blonde brows raised. I laughed sadly and looked down at my hands. They were stained from the blue cleaning fluid we used, and the nails were jagged and broken. I shot the older woman a sad smile.
“Having my own busin
ess sounds amazing, but I have no idea what it’d be,” I said. “So no. I’ve been thinking about going to college maybe. I just have no idea how I’d pay for it, or what I’d do,” I admitted, keeping my eyes downcast so Betty wouldn’t see. Kids out here didn’t just go to college on a whim. Their parents either paid or they didn’t go at all, it was that simple. For example, my dad never mentioned college. Hell, Frank wouldn’t have cared if I dropped out of high school.
But there was something in me, something deep inside, that wanted more than this. There had to be more than this to life.
Betty was quiet as she thought about what I had just told her. She sighed heavily and patted my hand.
“You know college doesn’t come easy out here. But if that’s what you want to do, then nothing should stop you from doing it!” Betty exclaimed. I smiled again sadly.
“I just want something better than this,” was my sigh as I scanned the broken-down Pink Flamingo. The wall paper had to be at least thirty years old, and it was peeling in the corners. There was a weird, musty scent to the stained carpet, and the ceiling was covered with water spots and cracks.
But dreams are luxuries, and right now, they were something I couldn’t afford. So I stood up with purpose, and brushed my pants off, before sticking out my hand to help Betty up. She placed a heavy arm on my shoulder and tucked an unruly curl behind my ear comfortingly.
“That’s alright if all you want to do is leave, dear. I’ve been here my whole life, and this is all I’ve known. But you don’t have to be the same,” Betty urged me. Her blue eyes were wide and cloudy as she spoke. The only reason she’d stayed at the Pink Flamingo was because of her son, Lewis, was who strung out on meth. She tried to keep a watchful eye on him, and even tried putting him in rehab, but it was no use. She’s stuck here ever since, and I was determined not to end up like her.
“I’m sure I’ll find something,” I said softly. I kneeled back down and started scrubbing.
“What about being a paramedic? I know they’ve got training and they pay real nice!” Betty chirped. I wrinkled my nose as I scrubbed the floor.
“I’m too queasy around blood,” were my soft words. “It makes me feel sick.” Betty gave my arm a gentle pat.
“What about going down to the community college to see if they’ve got financial aid?” Betty suggested. “I hear some of those programs can be really generous.” I nodded and wiped sweat off my forehead.
“Sure, I’ll check that out,” I replied, trying to hide my growing sadness. My friend was just trying to help, but there was no way she’d ever understand. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, what with no money and my dependent dad. Financial aid was nice and all, but it wasn’t going to solve my problems.
“Well, whatever you choose, I know the universe will bring you just what you need,” Betty assured me with a pat on my hand. “It’s your karma.”
“I hope so,” I mumbled, not looking up.
The older woman gave me one last smile before walking away and resuming her own work. For a moment, I lingered there, wondering what my life would be like after my stint at the Pink Flamingo.
“Miss Rosy, what do you think you’re doin’?” My head snapped up and I winced to see our manager Danny standing over me with his pot belly sticking out.
“Scrubbing floors?” I answered, unsure of myself. Danny rolled his eyes and put his hands on his small hips.
“I think I can see that,” he started with a sarcastic tone. “But what I don’t see is why you’re not in the bathroom yet. We’ve got guests in and out of here, and those floors are filthy.” I hurried to my feet and picked up the sponge off the floor.
“I’ll get right on it, Danny,” I said quickly. Danny wasn’t that terrifying, but I learned a long time ago it was best to keep him off my back because his temper could be brutal.
“You better, Miss Rosy. Are you planning on working here now that you’ve graduated high school?” Danny asked.
“I think I might.” My reply was meek and quiet.
“Then you better stop lollygagging,” Danny fired back. He grunted in disgust, then lumbered away, muttering under his breath.
I exhaled heavily and picked up my pail of murky water, and dragged it to the bathroom. Getting on my hands and knees, I scrubbed relentlessly at the grimy floors. They were dirty from muddy shoes and God knows what else, and the stains seemed impossible to erase. But I kept scrubbing.
By the time the floors were starting to look cleaner, my whole body was aching. I slowly pulled myself up, and leaned back on my heels. The Pink Flamingo has been my only way of income for a while now, but I couldn’t help but dream of a life far away from it. It was times like this when my old trips with my stepmom came flashing back to me. When I closed my eyes, I saw shimmering burlesque dancers covered with diamonds. They seemed so free – not like me, bound to scrubbing and cleaning and dealing with Danny.
I could never be a showgirl. My figure is round and curvy – there’s no way rich men would pay to see me dancing around with a fan made of feathers. But again, a girl can dream, right?
I leaned against the stained walls and sighed. My legs ached like crazy, and my sweaty hair was plastered to my scalp. I didn’t want my life to be like Betty’s – trapped here, with no other choices. But despite my uncertainty and confusion, there was a little spark of optimism deep in my heart that I couldn’t shake.
Forcing a smile, I picked up my dusty pail, and walked towards the front of the motel. I’d find a way out … the problem was I wasn’t sure how.
Chapter 2
Steele
“Hopefully, with these new renovations, those fat cats from New York will be interested in becoming a part of The Grand,” Jonathan said as he held up a flute of champagne. His hand trembled from the several glasses he’d already enjoyed before draining the flute in one gulp.
“To The Grand,” I rumbled. I took a long sip and sat back in my chair. There was nothing like lunch with Jonathan Alexander, one of my most trusted associates, to cheer me up. We’d been drinking so much champagne that I was sure the restaurant would soon run out, but it didn’t matter.
Because The Grand, my hotel, was my pride and joy. It’s brought me money, fame, and anything I could ever want from this life. And yet some days, I felt like something was missing.
Jonathan burped loudly and nudged me on the arm. “What’s with you, man? You’ve seemed so down recently,” Jonathan grumbled. There was a massive cowlick on his head, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Sighing, I pulled the champagne bottle from him.
“I’m fine. You on the other hand need to give the alcohol a rest. How long has it been since you’ve been sober?” I pressed. Jonathan and I go way back -- all the way back to college, in fact, when we’d get wasted after finals. But now it seemed that Jonathan had never moved past that.
“Why do you care? I’m a forty-five-year-old millionaire. I can do whatever I want!” Jonathan announced loudly. I laughed and patted him on the shoulder.
“Whatever you say, buddy.” I started to get up when Jonathan grabbed my forearm.
“Seriously though man,” Jonathan said with a lowered tone. “You alright? I know it’s been a couple of months since you and Donna split.” The air went cold as memories flooded my mind. Donna and I had been married for ten years, but then I found out she was fucking my old boss, Tony McCarthy. He was an old, washed up attorney with old money to match. Donna always said she wanted more than the hotel. It was almost comical to think that she’d found whatever she was looking for in that old bastard.
“I’m focusing on the hotel right now. Donna is the past.” It was a lie, but Jonathan didn’t need to know that. No one did.
“Fine. But have you at least fucked anyone since? You’re a working man, Randolph. You’ve got needs,” Jonathan slurred, his voice rising an octave with every word. I rolled my eyes as I put my jacket on.
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