by Lucy Leroux
Now that he knew who he was dealing with, Jason had finally done his homework on Mary Margaret Tyler and her brothers.
Their wealth was staggering. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that Maggie could be so rich. It didn’t mesh with his preconceived ideas about the uber-wealthy. His Maggie was kind, down to earth, and practical. She worked hard at her job, too. He was still a little fuzzy on the details of what she did, but he understood that it involved organizing conferences and conventions at the hotel chain. And that was likely just the start of her responsibilities since she was part owner.
After the revelation, he had considered walking away. Someone like Maggie would have rich and successful tycoons at her beck and call. She could do a lot better than him. Except—except they couldn’t love her more than Jason did. When she forgave him, he was going to do anything and everything to make her happy.
Plus, he had something going for him that was bigger than this mess. Maggie loved him. He knew that—was certain. She wasn’t the type to engage in casual sex. If she didn’t love him, she would have never given herself to him. Intimacy meant something to a girl like her.
According to his sources, each of the Tylers had their own set of apartments on the top floor of the hotel, where they lived full time. That floor was divided between their rooms, offices, and a handful of penthouse suites reserved for the ultra-rich.
Getting into the hotel as a persona non-grata was a challenge in and of itself. Getting onto that top-floor family area was proving to be nearly impossible.
His first idea had been to max out his credit card and reserve one of those suites using some sort of disguise, but further research revealed that the two spaces were not connected. The only way to the family’s personal suites and offices was through a single private elevator located behind the manager’s office on the ground floor.
Maggie is literally my princess in a tower.
Ethan came back in from his reconnaissance walk around the block. “This is going to take some work, but it’s not impossible. Aside from the lobby and back entrance, there’s a VIP entrance. All of those have at least two guards. The fire exits are wired and the staff entrances are keycard entry. I think those are our best bet. If we can lift a card from one of the maids—”
Someone behind them laughed—a feminine giggle. Jason swung around, his heart in his throat. But it wasn’t Maggie.
“Peyton.”
Maggie’s best friend was wearing oversized sunglasses and hoodie with the hood pulled over her dark hair. She tugged it down and lowered the shades to study him.
“And then what?” she asked.
He and Ethan stared at her.
She propped her head on her hands. “Only certain maids are authorized to work on the top floor, and their keycards only work in the hotel proper,” Peyton informed them. “The elevator to the family offices has a thumbprint lock. Only the print from authorized personnel grants access to the inner sanctum.”
“But you have access, don’t you?” Ethan asked, turning on his megawatt smile for her.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Peyton grinned. “But that does you no good. The word came from on high. You aren’t to get anywhere near Maggie. Liam’s men would treat it like a hostage situation, and you’d end up in jail—he’s a very protective older brother. Besides, you’re assuming I want to help you. And after what you did, that’s kind of a big if…”
“If you don’t want to help, why are you here?” Ethan’s smile had dimmed.
She gestured to Jason. “To see if he deserves an opportunity.”
“What kind of opportunity?” Ethan asked, a corner of his mouth turning down.
“I don’t care,” Jason said eagerly, waving at him to shut up. He couldn’t let his partner’s naturally suspicious nature ruin this for him. That was how he’d landed in this mess in the first place.
“I know I’m an idiot,” he told Peyton. “The biggest asshole in the world. Everything you’ve thought, I have already said to myself ten times over. I’m prepared to beg on hands and knees for another chance. In fact—I’ll start now.”
Jason knelt in front of her and put his hands together in prayer.
Peyton leaned back with a satisfied expression. “That’s what I was waiting for.”
She put a hand in her pocket and handed him a key card. “I sometimes freelance in the security department, so I can program these.”
“I thought you said there was no key card access to her room,” Jason said, taking it from her.
“There isn’t. And I can’t put you on the thumbprint lock without one of the Tylers signing off on it—and let me tell you now that is not going to happen. If this were the days of feudal lords, Liam would have you drawn and quartered. Even Trick is itching to kick your ass into next week.”
Jason’s lips compressed. “I’m aware. He told me so himself the second time security showed me to the door. So, what exactly does this open?” he asked, holding up the card.
A suspicious-looking grin played at the corner of Peyton’s lips. Whatever was coming was trouble.
“Let me ask you something first. Maggie said you always vetoed going to the rooftop bars she suggested. Was there a reason for that?”
Jason narrowed his eyes at her. “Maybe.”
The glint in Peyton’s eye was downright devilish now. “Let’s just say you’re definitely going to earn this second chance.”
Chapter 11
Maggie tried to study the contracts for the next series of conventions that would be held at the hotel, but it was hopeless. She rubbed her temples. The tension there was coalescing into a full-blown headache.
Her head was a maelstrom of emotion. Even though more than a week had passed and she had gotten out of bed the following day—as promised—she still felt unbalanced. Shock, surprise, anger, and indignation were all in competition to drive her crazy.
How the hell could Jason have believed she was a prostitute? I guess it’s true—some guys can’t tell when a girl is a virgin.
And that slimy detective. Ugh. Just remembering the way Dawson had threatened her, trying to compel her into giving up evidence on Calen. It made her furious all over again just thinking about it—as if she would ever do that. And even if she had agreed—had worn a wire every time she saw Calen for the next year—they would still have nothing because he wasn’t a criminal. That was his father, a man Calen rarely saw and hardly ever spoke to. She certainly hadn’t met him. Liam had made sure of that.
Anger soon turned to hurt. Crap, shit, crap.
Tears stung at her eyes. Maggie felt humiliated. She’d been so fixated and hopeful about Jason that she’d ascribed things to their relationship that didn’t exist. Her fantasy man. God, she was such an idiot.
Except he wanted to save you. Or so he had said. He’d offered to run away with her. But how much had that been part of the effort to coerce her into turning informant? Had it been some twisted good-cop-bad-cop scenario?
And what if she had been a prostitute? Maggie was almost sure that offer would have been dust once she’d agreed to help Dawson.
Don’t think about it anymore.
Forcing her attention back to her work, she signed a few memos, writing her signature with enough violence to rip the paper.
“Shit!” She was turning to her computer to print the contract again when a large shadow fell over her desk. Outside the hermetically sealed windows, the window-washing rig was slowly lowering into view.
Maggie shot out of her seat. “What the hell is going on?” she asked aloud.
Today was Monday. The windows were always cleaned on Thursdays, so they’d be ready for Friday night checkins and the hotel’s busier weekend traffic.
Her question was answered when the platform came to a rest outside her window, revealing the occupants inside. Julio, the window foreman, was there. He held the controls with his habitual smile, but his grin was a little broader than usual. In fact, he appeared to be laughing at someone lying o
n the floor of the rig.
Maggie put her head on the window, trying to make out the identity of the prone figure. Julio tugged on the stranger’s jacket, and the other man raised his head.
“Jason! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Her jerk of lover didn’t answer. It was doubtful he could hear her through the thick glass. The entire hotel had the same noise-reducing panels. Maggie banged on the glass until he finally saw her.
Despite his unnatural shade of green, Jason pulled himself up until he was on his feet, facing her across the glass. Maggie bit her lip to keep from smiling as he held up a single bedraggled rose.
Snatching up a blank piece of paper from her printer, she scrawled a message on it.
SERIOUSLY! it read. She held it up to the glass.
Jason said something that looked like, “I’m sorry”.
She picked up another piece of paper.
The windows are sealed AND soundproof.
Clutching the side of the rig like he thought it would fall out from under him, Jason pressed his head against the glass, fishing something out of his pocket and displaying it to her.
It was his phone. He typed something on it.
I’m afraid of heights.
Oh, good grief. Then get back to the roof and go home, she scrawled on the backside of the paper.
Not yet. I need to tell you how sorry I am.
Maggie glowered at him and grabbed more paper. Did you really believe I was a prostitute?
Jason winced. Very briefly.
She made a fist and banged the glass just over his face.
I’m sorry!
He pulled the phone back and started typing furiously again. I was stupid to believe Dawson, but everything I said to you just before was true. I thought I was helping you. The idea of you under the thumb of someone like Dawson described scared the shit out of me. Please meet me on the roof. I have more to say, but I can’t stay out here.
Jason was staring at her face, into her eyes. Though he was no longer a sickly green shade, his free hand—the one not holding the phone—was clutching the railing with a white-knuckled grip. His expression pleaded with her.
“Fine!” she shouted and pointed at the ceiling. Jason motioned behind him, and Julio turned the controls to lift the platform up to the roof.
She took the elevator and found Trick waiting at the roof’s access door. He was almost jumping up and down, a gleeful expression on his face.
“What are you doing here?”
“Julio has been live-tweeting this spectacle. I imagine half the staff is on their way to the roof.”
Maggie swore and hurried outside. Her breath caught as she saw there were already at least two dozen people on the roof with more coming up the stairs behind them.
Why the hell is Julio’s Twitter account so damn popular?
“You are going to forgive him, aren’t you?” her brother asked from behind her.
She swung around to face him. “I thought you were in the let’s-have-Jason’s-guts-for-garters camp.”
“That’s Liam. After I saw this, I felt for the guy.” Trick handed over his phone. There was a picture of Jason. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he was sitting on the floor of the rig, holding on to his single rose with one hand and the railing with the other. His face was white, his lips pinched at the corners.
“Any guy who gets on a window-washing rig on a forty-story building when he’s afraid of heights deserves another shot.”
Maggie swore a blue streak and kicked the outside of the access door. “Damn it! He does, doesn’t he?”
Trick laughed. “I think so, but Liam doesn’t agree. He keeps texting me to have security throw him out again. Jason is lucky he’s in Lisbon this week.” His phone went off again, but he put it in his pocket.
“Does he follow Julio too?” she asked.
“Everybody does. Julio takes the best selfies from the rig and does a weekly caption contest.”
Trick nudged her. “There are more roses,” he stage-whispered, pointing to the side of the building. A few members of the hotel staff were holding bouquets, a least six or seven of them.
“He probably spent half his paycheck on those,” her brother mused. “I just looked up average salaries for FBI agents last week. It’s not a lot.”
“Can you not ruin this romantic moment for me?” she asked in exasperation, swinging back around when people started shouting.
The slow-moving platform had made it back up to the roof. Julio waved to the crowd like an English royal in a parade while a few men went to open the door. Jason stumbled out like he’d come from inside of one their industrial-sized washing machine, set on high.
He landed on his knees and quickly sat down on the roof, his back to the railing. He wasn’t looking at her or the crowd. Both his hands were covering his face as he tried to get his bearings.
Maggie flushed, aware that everyone was looking at her. For split second, she wanted to ask everyone to leave, but she couldn’t do that. Most of these people had been with them for years—ever since her brothers had opened their first hotel. They had watched her grow up. Antonio, their concierge, had taught her how to drive. Maria Elena, one of the housekeepers, had been the one to explain what tampons were for. Maria Elena’s sister Constanza had taken her shopping for her first bra. They had been there for all her big moments. It seemed right that they should be here for this one, as embarrassing as it was.
Taking a deep breath, she looked neither right nor left until she was in front of Jason. She crouched down in front of him, and then tugged his hands off his eyes.
“You, sir, are a prize idiot.”
Jason’s tight expression eased. He looked so happy to see her that her heart soared.
“I know. I’m sorry.” His voice was like sandpaper.
“I can’t believe you did that if you’re afraid of heights,” she said, gesturing behind him to the rig.
“I needed to let you know how much I love you, and there wasn’t another way…so do you think you can give me another chance?”
Maggie pursed her lips, very aware of their audience…and that he had just told her he loved her. “Don’t get me wrong—I appreciate the big gesture, but you monumentally screwed up.”
“Does that mean you don’t want this?” he asked, holding out the sadly mangled red rose.
“Oh, I want it, and you. However, I think you need to look around.” She gestured to the crowd of hotel staff. “It’s not just my brothers who will unleash a can of whoop-ass on you if you screw up again. It’s all these people too—they are my family. So you better watch your step.”
Jason didn’t seem to care about the implied threat. His grin was irrepressible. “I can handle that. I can handle anything as long as you love me back.”
She leaned in closer. “Good. And in case it wasn’t clear—I do love you too.”
“Maggie?”
“Yes?”
“That is the best Christmas present anyone has ever gotten me.”
Maggie’s mouth dropped open. He was right. It was Christmas Eve. In her distraction, she’d forgotten.
Jason laughed and put his hands on either side of her face to pull her in for a kiss. The moment their lips touched, she forgot all about their audience and the fact they were on a very windy rooftop. The world was that simple, sweet touch of his lips on hers.
Jason broke off first. He was laughing, and it took her a moment to realize why. The sound she had thought was the wind picking up was their audience. They were cheering and clapping in approval.
“I guess it’s going to be a big wedding,” he said.
Maggie put her hand over her mouth and laughed, tears stinging at her eyes before she wiped the smile from her face. “Who said I was going to marry you?”
Jason stopped smiling. “Me. I did. You are going to marry me.”
*
He was right.
Chapter 12
One Year Later
“It goes without saying that if you hurt my baby sister, I will kill you.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Hell, Liam. You have to do this right now?” He nodded at the gathering crowd.
Liam didn’t even blink. “I think now is the perfect time.”
Jason had to give it to the guy. Maggie’s oldest brother had a single-track mind and the kind of persistence empires were founded on.
“Well, I guess I get the symbolism of the timing and everything, but it’s not like this isn’t well-covered territory,” he said, giving his best man, Ethan, the side-eye.
Ethan shrugged. He probably considered threatening to kill the groom a rite of passage. His partner was traditional that way.
“Did I or did I not sign the damn prenup you shoved at me?” Jason asked, keeping his eyes peeled on the doorway.
Technically, Maggie wasn’t late yet…but she wasn’t early either.
Liam conceded that with a nod. “You did. But that’s not the same thing as not arguing with Maggie.”
Jason smirked at the way he was losing ground. “So now we can’t even fight?”
“You can fight; you just have to let her win.”
“Maggie would lose all respect for me if I let her win all the time.” She usually destroyed him in arguments anyway. It was all those years of quarreling with her brothers. She was well-trained. The girl was devious and too smart for her own good.
God, he loved her.
“Don’t forget our deal. I signed the damn prenup on the condition that you don’t tell Maggie about it. She’ll be mad at me for signing it… and even madder at you for having it made up in the first place.”
Jason honestly didn’t care. He had no intention of ever getting divorced, so whatever Liam wanted him to sign was fine with him. If it made Maggie’s brother get off his case, it was worth it. Of course, it hadn’t worked completely. Case in point—this pre-wedding pep talk.
“When is Maggie getting here?” he asked, looking at his watch.
