Deceive 2 (Book 2 of the Deceive series)

by Karessa Mann

  Deceive

  Book 2

  Karessa Mann

  Contents

  Copyright

  Deceive - Book 2

  About the Author

  Also by Karessa Mann

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DECEIVE - BOOK 2

  Copyright © 2015 by Karessa Mann

  Cover design and ebook formatting by Indie Author Services.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems — except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from the author.

  Deceive - Book 2

  I am in trouble.

  Heart stopping, palm sweating, what the fuck was I thinking? kind of trouble.

  How could I have been so careless, so naive, and so stupid? kind of trouble.

  I try not to look at him, the man I was so charmed by the night before, who I thought would give me one evening of sensational bliss never to be seen again. I was okay with that. I signed up for that. I didn’t plan for this.

  He said his name was Damon. I know now that was a lie.

  I lied, too. But it pales in comparison to hiding a wife.

  “Ms. Caldwell,” Mrs. Knight says, shaking me out of my stupor. I look up and recognize the striking woman from the lobby he was speaking with last night. He told me there was nothing romantic between them, but as she steps forward and I see the three carat rock on the ring finger of her outstretched hand, it’s as if someone just punched me in the stomach. With trembling fingers, I shake her hand and try to keep my focus on her, but his eyes bare down on me. The room has somehow grown smaller, as if the walls are moving inward, preparing to cave in on me. I see him out of the corner of my eye no matter which direction I look.

  “I’m Marissa Knight,” she says with a welcoming smile. “And this is Marcus.”

  I refuse to look at him, though looking at her is just as hard. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Knight,” I manage, but the words are sour on my tongue.

  “Ms. Knight,” she corrects. “Marcus is my brother.”

  Relief washes over me in one large, consuming wave. She is his sister! Of course she is. I inwardly scold myself for jumping to conclusions. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have remembered reading that the siblings assumed control of the hotel last year. I just assumed that with the ring—I inhale slowly to calm myself. I can certainly understand the perks of Marissa Knight keeping her maiden name.

  Now, I have no choice but to acknowledge Marcus. And when I do, all the desire I felt for him only hours ago tingles through my body. I take his hand in a firm shake, pretending I have never touched him before, that I haven’t committed to memory the sensation of his fingers sliding in and out of me.

  “Marcus Damon Knight,” he corrects.

  His sister flashes him an odd look, but he pays her no attention. I can see it now, the resemblance of the two, with their lustrous jet-black hair and creamy olive skin. Though whereas Marissa’s eyes are the color of dark melted chocolate, his are piercingly bright blue.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” I say and release his grasp as soon as it is polite enough to do so.

  Marissa gestures to the chair in front of the desk she is leaning on. “Have a seat.” She follows suit, taking the chair beside me while Damon…I mean, Marcus, sits behind the desk.

  She pulls out a piece of paper and I know what it is before she speaks. Swallowing hard, I again do my best to keep my eyes on her, even though I know he’s watching me intently. He manages to hide the scowl on his face from his sister, but not from me.

  Oh God. What is going through his head?

  Does he think I knew who he was all along? That this is a game I was playing?—that I slept with him on purpose in hopes of getting the job? I want to hang my head and run out of this room as fast as I can.

  No. I want this job. I need this job and I would be great at it. But all I can think is I’ve lost my chance—because I let some stranger fuck me against his penthouse suite window.

  “Your resume is impeccable, Ms. Caldwell,” Marissa says, her eyes skimming the sheet of paper in her hand. “Four years with Hilton and three years as manager with Embassy Suites.” She looks up at me with a genuine smile. “Seems you know the hotel industry well.”

  I turn in my seat, crossing my legs toward her, blocking out the sight of Marcus who hasn’t taken his eyes off me. Clearing my throat, I put on my professional face. I may not be able to win Marcus over, but I can sure as hell try with his sister.

  “I do,” I say with confidence. “I studied business at the University of Washington while working at Hilton, and then after graduation was hired on at Embassy where I ran the front desk and was in charge of a staff of six. After two years, they transferred me to Bellevue where I led a team of ten. If you call Karen Stein…”

  “Oh, I already did,” Marissa interjects. “And she has nothing but the best to say about you.”

  I smile and foolishly glance at Marcus. For some reason I want him to hear the praise I’ve earned. His eyes lock with mine and for a moment, I am lost again in the indigo storm brewing beneath his lashes.

  “So tell me, why Knight Hotel?” Marissa asks, drawing my attention back to her. “It appears you’ve had a good thing going with your current employer.”

  I nod and clasp my fingers together over my knee to keep it from shaking. “I love my job,” I tell her. “But I’m ready to move back to Seattle. And the Knight Hotel is an iconic building. I recognize that. With the transfer of ownership, there is potential for growth and restructuring. I believe my experience could help bring it back to life.”

  “Bring it back to life?” Marcus huffs.

  We both turn our heads cautiously to look at him. He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest, scowling like a scolded child. “What exactly do you think needs to be changed around here, Ms. Caldwell?”

  “Marcus,” Marissa warns, then refocuses on me. “Forgive my brother. He‘s more sentimental about the hotel than I am. Our grandfather built it in the 40’s and my father took it over when we were just kids. We grew up here and we knew that one day it would be ours. But when our father died…”

  My head lowers. “I was sorry to hear about that. I had the pleasure of meeting your father on a couple occasions. He was a respected man.”

  “Thank you,” Marissa says. “Anyway, I have always felt that Knight Hotel has been, I guess you can say, stuck in my father’s generation, whereas Marcus, he holds attachment to the classic appeal.”

  I glance at Marcus who’s staring up at the ornate chandelier. “I think you are both right,” I say. His eyes meet mine. “The Knight Hotel is a legendary landmark that locals and tourists associate with Seattle. You want to respect the classic history of the landmark, while keeping pace with modern times.”

  “Exactly,” Marissa says with a bright smile. “How do you propose we do that?”

  “I would start with an updated website.” I look to Marcus when I add, “Only your father’s photo is displayed there.” He smirks at me.

  Marissa jots down notes on a pad of paper. “Absolutely.”

  “It needs to be more user friendly. That will attract the younger crowd, and not just the baby boomers who are more apt to call the hotel for a reservation than book online.”

  I swallow and allow my eyes to
drift back to Marcus. “You also need some improved staffing.” He lifts an eyebrow as I say, “Particularly in the bar.”

  Did I just see a small smile?

  Marissa continues writing. “There have been numerous complaints.” She looks up at her brother. “I thought you were going to deal with Trevor.”

  “I thought I did.”

  I blush.

  “Anything else?” he asks slightly bemused.

  I sit up straighter in my chair. “The Knight Hotel should not be limited to one downtown location. Once we’ve modernized and made it more appealing to younger clientele, you should look into expanding.”

  “A chain?” he sneers. Marissa’s head snaps up. “Marcus!” She turns back to me apologetically. “That is something we’ve discussed. As you can see, I am more in favor of that idea than my brother.”

  Marcus leans forward, his forearms resting on the desk. “You sure have a lot of criticism, Ms. Caldwell. Is there anything you do like about our hotel?”

  Without missing a beat I say, “The view is exquisite.”

  The blood drains from his face. I give him an innocent smile.

  “Well, Ms. Caldwell,” Marissa says.

  “Anna, please.”

  Marissa smiles. “Anna, I have to say you are clearly the most qualified person we’ve interviewed. I’m pleased that you and I share the same vision for the hotel’s future and I believe we could work really well together.” She nods her head in Marcus’s direction. “I can handle him. So, how about a tour? Marcus, is that something you can handle?” She looks up from her watch and raises a questioning brow.

  “Of course,” he says diplomatically, behind a steely gaze.

  Marissa turns back to me. “Marcus is the one who’s here more often throughout the day. I pop in, but I’m am also juggling two little ones at home. And today, my son is home sick so I must be getting back.” She reaches out and shakes my hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Anna. I hope to see a lot more of you in the future. We would love to have you join our team. Wouldn’t we, Marcus?”

  He clears his throat. “Yes.”

  I release her hand, trying hard to contain the excitement over nailing the job interview and the trepidation that I will now be alone with the man who knows I lied to him. “Thank you.”

  Marissa nods her head and steps out, leaving a thick silence in the room. Neither of us move. Marcus stares at me questioningly, waiting for me to explain myself. Little does he know I’m waiting for him to do the same. Why didn’t he introduce himself as the owner to me last night? It would have been appropriate, especially when I was having issues with a member of his staff. Why would he need to lie about his name? I cross my arms over my chest. He chuckles lightly, giving a shake of his head.

  “Hello, Scarlett.”

  My cheeks flush as I remember the way he said my name when he came inside me.

  “Damon,” I toss back. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

  He laughs. “Didn’t you?”

  My back stiffens and I take a deep breath before saying as calmly as I can, “You think I planned this?”

  He tilts his head to the side and studies me. “I don’t know. It sure seems serendipitous with you staying here last night.”

  “I was staying here last night so that I could scope out the hotel before my interview. Remember, it was you who bought me a drink.”

  “I remember,” he says. “There’s not a second of last night that I don’t remember.”

  My knees weaken and I need to sit down, but doing so would show him he’s gotten to me and I can’t allow that. Today is about being professional. The man I had the most incredible sexual experience of my life with is now my new boss. I close my eyes. Oh, God.

  Marcus stands. “How about that tour?”

  Yes. I need out of this room. I need air.

  He walks to the door and opens it, introducing me to the woman at the front desk who greeted me before the interview. As we walk through the lobby, Marcus is careful to keep enough distance between us, so as not to touch me in any way.

  “I assume you are quite familiar with our bar?”

  I don’t answer, but instead trail behind him a few steps so that I can take in the way he looks in his suit. He’s wearing the same style of white button down shirt he had on last night, only this time it’s paired with a charcoal jacket and pants instead of a lighter gray suit. His thick dark hair is pushed back off his forehead and his eyes show no sign of sleep deprivation the way I’m sure mine do. And then I remember him telling me he rarely sleeps.

  Marcus walks me to the gym, shows me the pool and then continues the tour past several conference rooms, all the while keeping his conversation strictly business, for which I’m grateful. It isn’t until we get to the elevator that a warm rush of desire shoots through me again. He shifts his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets as we wait for the doors to open. Thick silence once again. I wonder if I am alone in this sensation of longing and nostalgia, but there’s nothing on his face to confirm or deny my thoughts.

  When the door opens, a couple steps out, leaving us alone in the confined space. Marcus pushes the button for the 41st floor, one level above his penthouse suite. As the elevator begins its climb, I put on a brave face and ignore the suspicion that he can see right through it.

  “Are you all right?” he asks with surprise sincerity.

  “Fine,” I answer curtly.

  “When we get to the restaurant you don’t have to go to the window.”

  Instantly, the air becomes scarce between us in this small box. He is standing closer to me than a boss should, and yet he’s still too far away. I know it’s wrong, but I want to feel him against me again. This magnetism between us is too strong to ignore.

  I stare straight ahead as I say, “I like the window.”

  I hear a sharp intake of breath just as the doors open

  and we are at the top of the building, stepping out into a quaint foyer, smaller than the entrance to his personal suite. I am quickly surrounded with the familiar luxury that is the Knight Hotel restaurant, presumptuously called, Knight. It’s apparent that Marcus’ grandfather had an insatiable need to see his name on everything. Beyond the marble columns and glossy mahogany tables stands floor to ceiling windows that are even more astounding in this large, open room than in the penthouse suite below us. Seeing the view in the daylight, albeit from the opposite side of the room, gives me the sensation that I am sitting on top of the world. It may not be as magnificent as dining atop the Space Needle, but it comes in a close second.

  “This is extraordinary,” I say with admiration. “I meant it when I said you should continue to respect the classic architectural design of the hotel.”

  He tilts his head at me and says with a slow smile, “I thought you were more of a SoHo kinda’ gal?”

  I smile sheepishly. How did he remember I said that? “I am. But I can respect great beauty when I see it.”

  He doesn’t say anything, but the way he’s looking at me is unnerving. I shift my gaze back to the view.

  He breezes past me. “Come this way.”

  Marcus walks us through the empty restaurant to the back where a woman is standing behind the bar speaking softly into the phone. When she sees Marcus, she smiles.

  As we approach her he says to me, “We don’t open until ten but Clara here is the restaurant manager and she was in early for a staff meeting. I thought I would introduce you.”

  I extend my hand and she politely accepts. She has to be a good fifteen years older than me, her blond bob perfectly coiffed, her lips a shade of red not normally seen so early in the morning. Clara respectfully entertains us for a moment before her phone rings again and she politely returns to her work.

  When she is out of earshot Marcus says quietly, “I hope you don’t want me to fire her as well. She’s the best we’ve got.”

  I smile and begin to answer when he stops mid-step and turns to face me. I’m taken aback by his abr
uptness. Looking around, I see that we are alone in the restaurant, but by the way his eyes are boring into me, I wish we were in a more private setting.

  “Why Scarlett?” he asks. I can’t quite tell if the expression he is giving me is cold or wounded.

  I sigh, knowing we would have to discuss this at some point. “It’s the name I always use when I check into hotels. Because I work in the industry, I don’t want people coming across my name and giving me special service. I like to see how hotels really operate. Once before, when I used my real name, a manager knew who I was and I was accused of spying on them. So now, I have a pseudo. ” I smile through my embarrassment as I continue, “Scarlett Sterling.”

  “Scarlett Sterling?”

  “I chose it after my two favorite movie characters of all time,” I sheepishly admit. “Scarlett O’Hara and Agent Sterling.”

  He cocks a brow. “Gone with the Wind and Silence of the lambs?”

  I shrug. “I’m a walking contradiction.”

  He tilts his head back and laughs. The sound of it is so jarring with the tension between us and yet, it makes me smile.

  “So I’ve gathered,” he answers. “And I understand. Carrying the Knight name doesn’t come with much privacy in this city. I’m not as quick to relish in the acclamations as my father and grandfather have.” He shrugs lightly, gazing out the window to the ferries on the water. “Maybe that will change when I’ve contributed to the hotel’s success.”

  A member of the cleaning staff passes by us, breaking him from his trance. Marcus takes me by the elbow and leads me back to the elevator. He pushes the button and as we wait for the door to open, I say quietly, “I don’t believe that to be true.”

  He rotates his body to face me, his expression quizzical. “You think I enjoy the fame that comes with the Knight family name?”

  “No, I believe you won’t change even after you’ve built your own success.”

  He smirks. “And why do you say that? You haven’t even known me for twenty four hours.”