The Player (Rouge Passion #1)

by J. D. Chase

  ‘Ten seconds,’ he called after her.

  She released her hair, dragged her fingers through it and was just smearing lip gloss on her lips, noticing how pinked her cheeks were, when he shouted, ‘Time’s up, Red. Get your delectable arse in here now!’

  *

  They emerged from the lift and walked through into a fairly busy bar. Isla hung back a little, feeling out of place and underdressed – in more ways than one – amongst the immaculately dressed thirty- and forty-something guests. Xander gave her hand a squeeze and, when she looked up at him, he whispered, ‘The newly fucked look suits you, you look gorgeous.’

  She smiled her thanks and then, as Xander caught the bartender’s eye, the guy sitting next to where they were standing got down from his barstool and offered it to her. She accepted with thanks but almost cried out when she sat her tender, bruised bottom on it. She managed to grit her teeth and wince silently but she knew Xander had spotted it when he whispered, ‘Problem, Red?’ as the barman placed their gin and tonics in front of them.

  ‘No problem,’ she hissed, refusing to give him any satisfaction from her discomfort.

  ‘I told you that you’d feel me there, didn’t I? And I don’t have to put much imagination into feeling you on my cock . . . fuck, you were sexy tonight, Red. You’re always sexy but tonight – the way you aren’t afraid to do what you know I like – man, you blow my mind! Curves and confidence – you cannot fucking beat it.’

  They sat and chatted over several gin and tonics until Isla could no longer feel the tenderness of her behind. They plotted and schemed about how they could make the hotel a real success, and they pledged to do so. In their drunken haze, they were unbeatable.

  He raised his glass and she clinked hers against it. ‘To us,’ she said. ‘And fucking . . . lots of fucking.’ She giggled like a schoolgirl when she realised that she’d said it far louder than she’d intended.

  He smiled wistfully, ‘I’d like nothing more than for us to be together, Red. But I can’t do that to you. So yes, here’s to lots of fucking.’

  She frowned. ‘I didn’t mean “to us” in a coupley relationship sense, I meant our working relationship. But if you want us to be together, and let’s say . . . you know, hypothetically speaking, that I did too, why couldn’t we?’

  His face clouded over. ‘I’ve already told you that there are things going on in my life right now that aren’t good. I’ve told myself so many times this week that I should keep my distance from you, but I can’t. I can’t help myself. You are fucking amazing, Isla Hamilton, and I promise you that one day, I’ll happily drop to my knees and beg you to be mine – properly mine – heart and soul mine – and if you said no, I’d stop at nothing to convince you to give us a try. But that day isn’t today and it won’t be tomorrow, but I will do all within my power to make it happen as soon as I possibly can.’

  She sipped her drink and thought on his words. As much as she told herself that all men were bastards and that she’d never risk giving her heart to another, she knew that Xander Rhodes wasn’t just any man. He was special – and not just for his ability to make her come at the drop of a hat. She craved him. Just being near him was enough to stave away the loneliness that had been creeping up on her; but when they were together, that’s when the magic really began. She could tell instinctively that he was a good man – yes, he was arrogant sometimes, frustrating quite often, knicker-wettingly filthy definitely, if given half a chance, but he was a principled, ambitious man who had a softer side that he wasn’t afraid to show occasionally.

  Ruefully, she realised she was already in too deep. She cared about him already, and yet he couldn’t be hers. She was just his filthy slut. Regrettable yet true. But she also realised that she’d take what she could get, in the hope that one day, he’d be true to his word and they could decide whether they wanted to be together. But if his problems were merely financial, she couldn’t understand why they couldn’t be together now, or at least spend more time together. She began to wonder what he did when he wasn’t with her.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ he asked, softly.

  ‘Oh, I was just thinking “what if?” that’s all.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I truly am. But I’m not a complete bastard, Red, and that’s what I’d be if I allowed this to go any further. I know you can’t understand, but I can’t risk you getting hurt. Out of all the mistakes I’ve made in my life, I know I’d regret that most of all. That’s why I was so dismissive of you in the office earlier. I felt myself weakening so I did the decent thing and pushed you away. I’m not proud of what I said, but I know it was the right thing to do.’

  Her lip wobbled. That has got to be the most beautiful and heartfelt thing that anyone has ever said to me. I want this man. I want him, so I’ll wait for him. I don’t think anyone else could make me feel like he does. I do literally crave him and I know that, for now, whatever he gives me won’t be enough, but one day, I’ll make him mine and I’ll never let him go.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following week dragged by for Isla. She saw little of Xander in the office but he turned up at her flat twice – both times desperate to see her and desperate to take solace, buried inside her. Her bed lost the battle with the books and Xander was forced to turn up with a drill and some very long screws in order to reattach the footboard securely. She tried not to resent his prolonged absences but knew that he was doing all in his power to raise the remaining 50 per cent of the purchase price of the hotel in order to pay Gerald and transfer the title deed into her name. She’d already signed the necessary contracts and handed them back to Xander. The thought of potential wrong doing, or worse, being caught red-handed, had crossed her mind so many times but each time she walked through her front door, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her little flat.

  It was a symbol of survival and strength to her. She’d lost Jamie to another but she’d kept her home, and that had given her the motivation she needed to find a new job and start her life over. There was no way she was losing it if there was anything she could do to prevent it. And, she realised with a start one morning as she sipped her coffee, there was no way she was going to risk losing contact with Xander.

  She’d come to terms with her feelings for him. His words about feeling that he was meant to buy the hotel kept coming back to her. She wondered whether she was the reason he had to buy it. And then she’d daydream that together they’d make it the most successful independent hotel in Kensington. She didn’t dare admit that she hoped they’d have their happily ever after too but every time he turned up, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and lose himself in her, it became more of a silent acceptance in the back of her mind.

  *

  Mid-morning on Friday, Xander burst into her office, looking like he hadn’t slept for at least forty eight hours, and declared that he’d done it.

  ‘Done what?’ she asked as he pressed his lips to hers and then let out a long sigh of relief.

  ‘I’ve got the money and Gerald has agreed to a lower asking price – I’ve never seen anyone so worried about being caught by the taxman! So I can put it in your name, and pay all the required legal fees and taxes, although it’s daylight robbery, so everything is legal and above board. In a couple of hours, Red, you’ll be the new, fully legal owner of Rouge Passion, that’s the new name of the hotel.’

  ‘Really? Today? And rouge – isn’t that French for red?’

  He nodded, a huge grin plastered across his wan features. ‘And passion – well, that speaks for itself. Your hotel, Red, well for as long as it takes me, then it will be our hotel.’

  She opened her mouth to question him and protest but he silenced her with a kiss. A very long, tender, reverent kiss.

  When he pulled away, her eyes were sparkling. ‘We must celebrate tonight. Will you come to mine or shall we go to your suite after work?’

  Instantly his face fell. ‘I can’t tonight, Red, I’m sorry. I have a f
riend’s birthday party that I’ve got to show my face at and it’s miles away so I’m staying over. I’m really sorry, I know the timing’s shit but it’s been planned for ages. I don’t want to go, not at all, but I have to. I’m not back until Sunday, but the second I am back, I’ll be banging on your door.’

  Her face fell to match his but she put on a brave face and a fake smile, knowing how much she’d miss him and how much she’d like to go to the party with him and meet some of his friends. But they weren’t a couple so she had no right to ask that of him. ‘I’ll probably be busy here. I know I’m only the hotel’s guardian and not it’s real owner but I’ll take it just as seriously.’

  He smiled. ‘I know, and you’re doing more than enough already. I wish I could afford a temporary assistant for you since you’re taking over most of my duties but, until we make a success of this place, that’s just not possible. Oh and since you’re the new owner, I think it’s only fitting that you use my office. I can’t spend as much time here as I’d like at the moment so you may as well use it.’

  He stayed at the hotel until they received the call informing them that the money had been transferred along with the legal ownership of the building and the business. He poured them a gin and tonic to celebrate, kissed her as though she might disappear if he stopped, and then he was gone.

  Isla wandered around the hotel, attempting to absorb the fact that the whole place was now in her legal ownership. It took some time to get her head around the responsibility of it all. Xander had been very candid with her about how the hotel’s financial situation must improve; it would be her that would be declared bankrupt if it all went badly wrong, although it would be his money that would be lost.

  They’d decided to keep the news of her ownership from the staff but she found it difficult to keep it to herself. She was bursting with the excitement of it all but she could tell no one. She also wished that Xander was there to celebrate their triumph over adversity with her.

  At the end of the day, she found herself in the bar chatting with Dean before the arrival of the Friday evening crowd. She had a couple of gin and tonics as she unwound and then, as the high of excitement left her, the low of loneliness began to set in. She was sorely tempted to use her master key to let herself into the suite and crawl into bed, but she daren’t be away from her flat on the unlikeliest of chances that Xander changed his plans and came looking for her.

  ‘You look tired, Isla,’ said Dean suddenly, his face the image of concern.

  ‘I’m shattered, but I’m fine. Honestly.’

  ‘Do you have any plans for the weekend?’ he asked.

  ‘Sleep,’ she laughed. ‘I have some work to do here so I’ll pop in for a few hours tomorrow but other than that, I plan on doing absolutely nothing.’ Because Xander’s not here.

  ‘Isla, you know that between us, Derek and I keep things running smoothly over the weekend. Let’s face it, this place is dead on weekends. There’s no need for you to come in. Stay in bed and get some rest.’

  ‘I wish – this place can’t afford to be dead at weekends and hopefully soon it won’t be.’

  ‘Oh yeah? What’s the plan?’ Dean asked, his expression one of genuine interest.

  She figured that now she was in charge, she could confide in Dean. It was frustrating but unavoidable that all the funds that Xander had planned to use to make the first raft of changes to the hotel had to be diverted into the pot to pay Gerald. But he’d assured her that he was still raring to get started, the very minute he improved his cash flow.

  ‘We want to change our target market. Business people aren’t the obvious choice for this hotel, they won’t pay the tariff of a five-star hotel – even if this place was up to scratch, which it’s not – and they never stay at weekends, leaving our occupancy rate way too low. So we’re going to make some changes and turn it into a luxury retreat for couples taking a romantic short break.’

  He looked thoughtful for a second. ‘But how many couples take breaks during the week? It seems to me that you’d be sacrificing your weekday professionals who don’t stay at weekends, for the couples market who will stay at weekends, but not during the week.’

  She stared at him, seeing the obvious pitfall that both she and Xander had missed. ‘Good point, Mr Rogers! So come on then, smartarse, which market should we be targeting? Xander wants to makeover the hotel – but on a limited budget – to ensure we retain our five-star rating should any inspectors come calling. So it has to be a market that will pay five-star prices.’

  ‘That’s easy. Rich shoppers – you have Knightsbridge on the doorstep – and sightseers.’

  She shook her head. ‘That won’t work. The Hiltons, Marriotts and the like have that market. We’re a smaller, bespoke hotel. Who would want to stay in a small, luxury boutique hotel?’

  ‘Hmm. I think you’re on to something with couples for weekends, but I’m struggling for obvious candidates for a luxury hotel during the week. Maybe think about who’d want to stay in this area during the week and why.’

  ‘Museums is the obvious answer. Kensington is littered with them,’ she replied.

  ‘Maybe that’s your answer. A little research to find out the types of visitors and experts they attract and see whether you can negotiate a deal, perhaps paying to advertise on their brochures with a discount code or something.’

  Isla beamed at him. ‘Dean, you’re wasted behind that bar. I think you may be on to something.’

  He smiled shyly. ‘It might be a completely shit idea, Isla. If it is, it was yours.’

  ‘No, I think it’s brilliant. And we could run promotions for romantic breaks alongside our weekday museum residents. That’s my job for tomorrow sorted.’

  ‘I thought you had other things to do?’

  ‘This takes priority, Dean. The hotel was being run into the ground by Gerald, who had lost interest in it as he neared retirement, and by Nigel whose incompetence compounded the problem. It’s time to reverse that and get this place on the map.’

  The first small crowd of office workers came spilling into the bar, chatting loudly and animatedly. She envied their Friday night feeling and the fact that they probably had a full social calendar for the weekend ahead.

  ‘Listen, thanks for your help. I’ll leave you to it. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Bye, Isla. Remember what I said – plenty of rest.’

  ‘Yes, Dad,’ she quipped as she slid off her stool.

  She went home with a spring in her step, her mind whirling with possible avenues to explore. She spent the whole of Saturday in the office on the Internet and telephone, and was so utterly exhausted by the time she arrived home, she crawled straight into bed.

  She was awoken by the insistent ringing of her intercom and was shocked to discover it was mid-morning. Cursing, she ran to the control panel and then almost burst with excitement when Xander’s voice muttered, ‘Let me in, woman. I need breakfast. And I need you!’

  She pressed the door release button, left the door on the latch and went into her kitchen to see whether she could concoct anything that would remotely pass as breakfast since she’d not been shopping for days. The smell of food heralded Xander’s arrival. He’d picked up bacon sandwiches on his way over.

  ‘Where on earth did you get these on a Sunday morning?’ she asked, when he finally released her after kissing her half senseless. She loved the way he was always so desperate to see her and how he didn’t try to hide it. Even more than that, she loved the way her presence appeared to soothe him, especially when he was inside her. His tension receded and she seemed to revive his resolve to continue to battle through whatever adversity he was facing.

  He tapped the side of his nose then laughed. ‘Cabbie’s café. If you ever see a line of black cabs parked in a backstreet, you know there’s a bloody good café nearby. Get the coffee on then!’

  She busied herself brewing the coffee and asked how his weekend had gone.

  He shot her a look that conveyed it hadn’
t gone well and that he didn’t want to talk about it. She, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to fill him in on her news.

  ‘You’ve managed to secure advertising with three local museums? And wow . . . major players at that. I know you’re wonderful, Red, but how the fuck did you manage that? And where did that idea come from?’

  ‘The idea came from Dean, who pointed out that couples were unlikely to stay for romantic breaks during the week.’

  His upper lip curled slightly. ‘I’ll have to give him credit for that, I suppose, but I can just imagine that the credit for negotiating with the museums for advertising goes to you. Did you turn on your charm?’

  She giggled. ‘Just a little. And in return, I agreed that we’d leave their brochures strategically placed around the hotel to encourage other residents to visit the museums. We can still run the romantic breaks as a speciality. Perfect, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, you are.’ He winked. ‘Now let’s get this food eaten and go to bed. I’m hungry for more than bacon.’

  Two hours later, they were both exhausted from their fuckfest. Xander snuggled up to her, his head on her upper breast, his arm across her midriff, and promptly fell asleep. She lay there, revelling in the intimacy of it and refused to let any disparaging thoughts take over. She accepted that he probably wouldn’t stay the night and he’d warned her that she wouldn’t see much of him again over the coming week, but that didn’t stop her aching to see him.

  She fought the signals from her bladder for as long as she could but, eventually, she could fight it no more so she tried, as carefully as she could, to ease herself out of bed. He stirred, mumbling something that she couldn’t quite make out. She froze and the muttering continued – she caught phrases but not everything. She heard, ‘You mean nothing to me . . . all about money . . . the poor little bastard . . . whore of a mother . . .’

  Oh my God! He’s having a nightmare about his childhood! Should I wake him or leave him? As she dithered, the pressure on her bladder was so intense that the decision was made for her. She scooted out of bed and into the bathroom. As she was about to flush the toilet she heard him shout, ‘Fucking bitch!’ and when she hurried back to bed, she found him thrashing his limbs around. She tried unsuccessfully to evade them and wake him gently. Before she could manage it, he quietened and fell back into a seemingly peaceful sleep.