by N. Michaels
Minutes later we reach our destination, The Hilton Bentley Hotel. I walk inside, ahead of Mr. Miller to check us in.
“Good morning, welcome to the Hilton Bentley Hotel.” Says - I glimpse at the nametag on her blazer - Sue.
Sue is tan, with caramel hair, bright blue eyes and her friendly smile is stretched from ear to ear.
“Good morning, checking in, I reserved the president suite. It’s under Miss Slav.”
I changed the name on the reservation to my own yesterday, when I was double-checking that everything was in order.
She looks at the screen to her right and finds the reservation. She asks for my driver’s license and confirms everything is accurate.
“There you go.”
Sue hands me two electronic keys with my driver’s license, smiling brightly at me. Suddenly her eyes widen, looking behind me. Her reaction is so sharp it startles me. I turn around and find the cause of her astonishment. It’s Mr. Miller. He’s walking towards me with long, lithe strides. Turning heads as he approaches me. I take a moment and look him over from head-to-toe and then back up again, catching his lickable lips quirk up. I smirk and hand him one of the electronic keys.
“Yours.” my voice is holding a different meaning to the word.
When Mr. Miller takes the card key, the tips of our fingers touch and he takes a deep breath. Feeling that surge of electricity, I force myself to look away and remind myself I’m standing in a busy hotel lobby. I notice the bellboy with my suitcase and follow him until we’re inside the suite. I’m acutely aware of the powerful man that is walking behind me, each step brings Mr. Miller closer and closer to me, or maybe it’s my imagination.
The suite is beautiful. I’ve been in some extravagant hotels, including this one, but never really thought of getting the president suite. The walls are white and brighten the room, making it feel more spacious than it already is. The windows are all floor to ceiling, allowing the sunlight shine into the room. The living area is furnished with a light sand couch, facing the windows and glass coffee table. As we move further into the suite, I see the dining room, a glass dining table and six white chairs positioned around it, and a big vase with beautiful white, pink and yellow flowers in the center.
I follow the bellboy and discover the king bedrooms. Their doors are facing the one another. I step into one of them and look around, taking the luxurious space in. The bed catches my eyes first, is massive, dominating the room. On the other end of the room is a large couch with decorative pillows. The lavish room extends into a breathtaking oceanfront terrace with two comfy lounge chairs.
I tip the bellboy and he leaves me to explore some more. I open a door, finding the walk-in closet. I’ll unpack once I’m done investigating this amazing space. I open another door and find an all-marble bathroom, with a Jacuzzi bathtub and a separate shower; I will be enjoying that later. I leave my bedroom and continue my exploration. I find a staircase leading upstairs, to a rooftop terrace with a Jacuzzi pool, overlooking the gorgeous view on South Beach.
Can’t wait to use this one… maybe skinny dip with Mr. Miller.
I smile at my wicked thought.
Definitely booking this room next time I’m here with the girls.
I take a deep breath, indulging in the feeling of the light breeze caressing my skin and the breathtaking view that is before me. A beat later I remember I’m not here of vacation, so I head back to my room, literally walking into Mr. Miller.
“Whoa… careful there.” Mr. Miller grips my arms as I sway backwards.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you… thanks for catching me.”
“My pleasure. It’s ten oh five right now. We need to leave in forty minutes.”
“Ok, I’ll just unpack quickly and shower.”
I sound innocent enough, even though my thoughts are quite the opposite. Mr. Miller’s eyes darken momentarily, as if he is sensing the naughty fantasies that are passing through my mind. He closes his eyes for a short moment and when they open, they are cool and calm.
Ugh! I can’t get a break with this guy! I puff inwardly.
Nodding, Mr. Miller releases me and I go back to my room. After I unpacked everything, I pick a dark burgundy sheath dress with a generous square cleavage and lay it on the bed. I hop into the shower and after fifteen minutes I am ready. I’ve refreshed my make up, adding a coat of mascara. I’ve brushed my hair, braid it then twist it into a high bun. I grab my iPad and head to the living area. Mr. Miller is sitting on the couch, waiting for me. His eyes scan my body once he sees me, slowing their journey on the swell of my breasts. I look at my watch hastily, its ten forty on the dot.
Phew! Made it.
Mr. Miller showered as well, and now he’s wearing a dark grey suit with a white shirt and a black tie. His hair is groomed, but a few strands fall on his forehead.
That is really sexy…
“Just in time. I started to get worried.” Mr. Miller’s eyes light with amusement.
“Worried about me? I’m flattered.” I bat my lashes and he smirks.
“Let’s go, I don’t do late.” Mr. Miller stands up, and hands me a folder.
Our meeting is held in one of the large conference rooms in the hotel. We settle into the chairs, around a big mahogany table and prepare for the meeting. I prop my iPad in front of me and place the folder next to it. The door opens and three businessmen walk in. The man that’s walking in front of the other two looks like he’s in his fifties. His hair’s white but full. His brown eyes are warm and wise. The other two men are much younger, probably in their early thirties, middle twenties. Mr. Miller rises to his feet and I quickly follow.
“Mr. Green.” Mr. Miller says.
“Miller. Good to see you, son.” Mr. Green smiles as he shakes Mr. Millers hand, then he turns to me.
“This is Miss Slav, my executive assistant.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Slav.” Mr. Green smiles.
“Likewise, Mr. Green.” I smile politely.
“My son, Patrick.” Mr. Green puts his hand on the man who’s probably in his thirties.
Patrick is tall, masculine and handsome. His brown eyes shine when holds out his hand to me.
“Miss Slav.” Patrick’s voice is bass and warm.
“Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand and smile.
Patrick’s hand grips mine tightly so its almost painful, but he softens his hold right before it reaches the point of pain.
“Patrick.” Mr. Miller speaks up, pulling Patrick’s attention to himself. He seems irritated, but it’s hard to tell.
“And this is Joshua, my assistant.” Mr. Green introduces me to the skinny, pale man; his eyes are too big for his face.
“Hello, Joshua.” I smile.
“Hi.” Joshua mutters and looks away.
I intimidate him. Poor guy.
Throughout the meeting, I watched enchanted as Mr. Miller spoke to the businessmen with confidence, respect and internal power. The way he captivated them with his words, was awe-inspiring. The authority radiating from his shrewd mouth, and it took everything I had to pay attention to what Mr. Miller was actually saying, instead of daydreaming about his lips.
I typed every resolution they achieved, any goal they wanted to accomplish in the future and the cost of every decision they made. From time to time, I catch Patrick looking at me, giving me a small smile.
He likes me.
Not news to me. Another predictable shocked stare came from Joshua, whom I tried to avoid eye contact at all costs. I didn’t want the humble man to faint. He looked that nervous.
As the meeting came to close, the men scheduled their next gathering, three months from today.
I glanced at my watch as we rose to our feet, finding the time is twelve fifteen.
“It was a pleasure to meet you.” Patrick says warmly.
“Thank you, you too.” I smile.
“Here’s my card. Call me if you’d like to grab a coffee or dinner. I’m here until Sunday.” Patrick hands me his busines
s card.
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” I smile politely.
The men said their goodbyes and I’m left with Mr. Miller, who’s looking at me with an odd expression but the moment our eyes meet, his face smooths out and he asks, “Hungry?”
“Starving.” I grumble.
Mr. Miller smiles, “Come on, lunch is on me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
De Rodriguez Ocean is a lovely poolside restaurant on the hotel premises. The chairs are wicker and brown, the ceiling is busy with spinning fanlights. I remembered it quite well. We’re sitting outside, waiting for our food. I ordered my favorite, a sugar cane tuna and Mr. Miller chose the Vaca Frita, papa’s favorite – a skirt steak.
“What time is the next meeting?” Mr. Miller asks.
“Two.” I answer in a heartbeat, I checked his schedule five minutes ago.
“All right, after that meeting I’ll need you to go back to the suite and make summary reports for each meeting we’ve had so far.”
“Sure. No problem.”
Idly, I think what he will be doing with his free time.
Our waitress approaches us with our dishes. She’s short and slim and her raven hair is pulled up into a high ponytail.
“There you go…” She’s says with a smooth voice, placing Mr. Miller’s plate in front of him then giving me mine.
“Will there be anything else I can give you?” She’s facing Mr. Miller, all smiles and eyelashes. “No. That’s all for now, thank you.”
She nods and manages to leave without drooling all over our lunch.
“Dig in.” Mr. Miller smiles brightly at me.
Wow... I think I stopped breathing for a moment there. His smile is… just perfect, showing his straight pearly white teeth, blinding me for a nanosecond. I snap out of it and bring a piece of the skewered tuna next to my mouth.
Time for another round of twenty-one questions…
“What does your mother do?” I ask then bite down.
Mr. Miller’s eyes widen a fraction, “She was a music instructor at NYU Steinhardt.” He answers after a beat.
“What did she teach?” I ask, but I think I can guess.
Piano.
“Piano… I was one of her students.” Mr. Miller says proudly.
“You play?” I try to look surprised.
“I do. Very well so.” he grins.
“Why did you say she was?”
“Well, after the accident she couldn’t play…” Mr. Miller frowns suddenly and his eyes turn cold. He looks uncomfortable talking about this. I should back up.
“I understand. I’m sorry if I have offended you.” I whisper.
“It’s fine. I just don’t like to talk about it.” He offers me a small smile.
I nod and shift in my chair.
Bad move Katherine.
“After you’re done with the reports, get ready for the last meeting. It will be at Prime One Twelve. We’ll have a private room so just tell the host who you are.”
I love Prime One Twelve!
“Sure… we’re not leaving together?” I hope he’ll reveal what he’ll be doing while I type up those boring reports.
“No. I’ll be at the gym.” Mr. Miller shrugs.
“Oh…” I smile.
Takes care of himself. I like that. A lot.
“I won’t be holding your hand all the time, Katherine. I’m just helping you out this week, after that, you’ll need to take the reigns and manage my schedule. If you fail to do so, I will look for another assistant. Is that clear?” Mr. Miller’s voice is heavy with meaning and his eyes are serious and grave.
“I understand, Mr. Miller. I promise you, I won’t disappoint you.”
Mr. Miller looks at me for a long moment, assessing me then nods in acknowledgment.
“So what does your parents do?” Mr. Miller asks after a few awkward moments of silence.
Oh no… I don’t want to talk about papa, he’s very famous for his work and I’ll just end up as ‘Dr. Slavsky’s daughter’ again. That was my identity my whole life, never my own person. I frown inwardly.
But I asked about his mother… I opened that door, might as well walk through it.
“My father is a doctor and my mother is an event planner.” I try to sound as vague as possible.
“A doctor? What field?” he sounds surprised.
“Neurosurgery.” I reply dryly.
“Oh…” Mr. Miller’s eyes cloud for a moment, he looks lost in thought. Not quite the reaction I usually get, when I tell people papa fixes brains and nerve connections.
“You don’t like neurosurgeons?” I look quizzically at him.
“What? Um… no… I mean they’re ok.” he mutters.
I slowly nod back at him. He seems to have a strange reaction to the fact that papa is a neurosurgeon, so I don’t press him to find out why.
We finish with our meal and order dessert. Mr. Miller is having a slice of key lime pie and a black coffee, one sugar. I requested yet another favorite of mine, hot chocolate croquettes and mint tea.
“Are you going to call him?” Mr. Miller’s face is suddenly serious.
I swallow my croquette, “Who?”
I think back, remembering Mr. Miller’s bizarre glance when Patrick handed me his card.
“Patrick?” I ask bemused.
Mr. Miller nodes and his eyes bore into mine.
“I don’t know…” I blink.
I really don’t know. I don’t want to. I want you, but you’re not giving me any signs that the feeling is mutual.
“I’d prefer if you wouldn’t.” Mr. Miller’s voice is stern.
“Oh… why not?”
I’m hoping he’ll say something in the lines of, ‘because I want you’.
“I don’t mix business and pleasure and the same applies to my employees.” Mr. Miller says with unreserved seriousness, his eyes never leaving mine.
So that’s what it is! Oh well… then this is a lost cause.
My heart drops to my stomach and I feel like someone just kicked me straight in chest. This means I don’t stand a chance in hell as long as I work for him. I take a deep breath, overcoming this horrid feeling.
“I see.” I mutter and look down at the last croquette on my plate.
Screw this! I came here to work, not for romance... so I’m attracted to him, so what?
I pull myself together and look up at Mr. Miller, managing a tight smile.
“I’ll think about it.” I keep my tone calm.
Mr. Miller lifts an eyebrow and inhales deeply, like he’s trying to restrain himself, but says nothing. Our overenthusiastic waitress comes back with our check. Mr. Miller hands her his Amex, his eyes are still examining my face. I think he’s trying to figure out my emotional state, but I am far too experienced to falter. I keep my face composed and I turn to watch a few young girls jump into the pool. Not so long ago, I was one of them. Having fun, not worrying about a thing, free and careless.
“You’re all set.” The waitress says and hands Mr. Miller his card back.
She looks sad that he doesn’t give her another glance. We rise and head back to the conference room.
“Are you all right?” Mr. Miller sounds mildly concerned.
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” I smile and give him a questioning look.
The second meeting goes on in the same manner. Except this time, it’s one person and she’s a woman. She’s probably in her mid-forties. Her hair is brown and curly. A small clip is bravely trying to hold her mane together.
“All right Doris, that’s all for today.” Mr. Miller says as he closes the folder he handed me earlier. “See you in four months.” Mr. Miller adds.
Doris rises and we follow. She smiles and shakes our hands.
“Lovely meeting you Miss Slav.” She says warmly.
“Thank you, you too.” I smile.
She gives Mr. Miller a quick look, with a meaning I cannot fathom and his lips quirk up slightly. I grab my iPad and the
folder, heading out with Doris and Mr. Miller. Doris says goodbye and walks at the opposite direction that Mr. Miller and I are heading to. Our walk is silent. Mr. Miller is brooding over something, and I try my best to appear disinterested to his state. My hopes to have him have vanished the moment he said, he does not mix business and pleasure and I won’t risk asking, only to get rejected. I don’t think I can take rejection very well, since it never happened. Another reason I won’t ask is because I don’t want to put this job in jeopardy.
This situation sucks.
Finally, we reach our suite. I place my things on the dining table and head into the kitchen. I need a snack. I open the refrigerator and find sweet green grapes. They will do. I wash them and place them in a bowl that I find in one of the top cupboards. I settle into the dinning room chair and a movement in my peripheral vision makes me look up. Mr. Miller comes out of his bedroom, dressed in black sweatpants, tight grey t-shirt and sneakers holding a gym bag. I look him over and my mouth waters. I swallow, hard.
Each arm muscle is defined and sculptured to perfection. Mr. Miller’s chest looks like its rock hard and the curves of his six-pack are visible through the fabric of his shirt. His shoulders are broad and strong, and all I want to do is trace my fingertips all over his upper body… or maybe my tongue…
Stop! He’s your boss and he just told you he doesn’t mix business with pleasure.
Damn it! Why am I going crazy over him? I had my share of muscular hunks, it’s not like it’s the first time I see a divine body like his. But there is something different about him. Mr. Miller has a way of reading every little trick I do, and it makes me feel bare, completely vulnerable… it terrifies me, but I can’t help but feel this, out-of-this-universe desire for him. He’s like no other man I’ve ever met. I tear my hungry eyes from him, back to the file in front of me.
“I’m off.”
I look up again and find Mr. Miller smiling at me.
“Enjoy.” I say and he leaves the suite.
I close my eyes, place my head in my hands and take a deep cleansing breath. I must collect all my will power and stop having this type of thoughts about him.
It won’t happen.
As irresistible as Mr. Miller is, I know my value and I’ve never had nor will, beg for a man’s affection. After summarizing all the notes and finalizing my reports, I notice the time is five thirty p.m. and I got some time to relax. I return to my bedroom and lay out my outfit for tonight’s business dinner. I choose a taupe sleeveless dress that hugs my every curve, stopping right above my knees. It has a cowl neck that gives the right amount of cleavage.
