by K. I. Lynn
When I got to my car, I pulled out my phone and noticed the date. Crap. I hadn’t talked to my parents since February, and March was closing up.
Not wanting to forget, I pulled up my contacts and hit send. It rang a few times before the click of someone answering.
“Hello?”
“Hi Dad,” I said into the receiver.
“Emmybear! How are you doing?” His voice was instantly happier than it had been when he answered.
Calling my parents had become a couple-times-a-month thing, and like always, hearing my dad’s voice was soothing.
“Busy as usual.”
“How are your classes going?” he asked.
“Almost over.” That alone was a huge bright spot. Years of hard work and sacrifice were coming to a close.
“And then that’s it? MBA?”
“MBA.”
“I’m so proud of you, baby. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to help you.”
“Daddy, don’t worry. I worked hard, just like you taught me, and I did it and only missed a meal or two,” I said, trying to cheer him up. It was the truth. It was hard, but I always had a place to lay my head and a meal to fill my belly. I sacrificed in other ways—friends and other relationships. Most of my college friends moved away after graduation, and those who were still in Boston were just as busy as I was.
“Still, when we moved out here I had every intention of helping you out financially. I’ve barely seen you because you’ve been forced to work so much.”
They moved hundreds of miles away for my dad to get a higher-paying job, only for the company to fold a year later. The recession had improved, but he still had trouble finding a job there or back home. I hadn’t even seen my parents in over two years, having been forced to work most holidays.
“Hopefully that will change and I can come visit you soon.”
“I would love that.” I really would. I missed my parents so much.
I missed his hugs. Then again, I missed any hugs. The lack of physical contact of any kind was depressing. I craved that connection desperately. When James had wrapped his arms around me, it was the first type of hug I’d gotten in a year or more.
“How’s everything else there? Any job prospects after graduation? Men in your life?”
“No prospects yet, but the school is helping me. As for men . . .” James weighed heavy in my chest. I just wasn’t sure if it was feelings built up over years of thinking about it or something real. “There is someone, but we’ll see what happens with that.”
“Well, hopefully I’ll get to hear more on that next time,” he said with a chuckle.
“Is Mom there?” I asked.
“She’s at work. Can she call you when she gets home? Or are you going to be working?”
“I’ll be in class, but I’ll catch up with her on the weekend.”
“Sounds good. Love you, Emmybear.”
“Love you, too, Daddy.” I hit the end button and let out a sigh at the same time. Another night ahead of me. I couldn’t wait to be done with school, because I was tired down to my bones.
The saying about burning the candle at both ends? Well, all the wax was gone, and my flames were about to meet.
Every night there seemed to be some complaint from Mr. Grayson, but on the ninth night all was quiet. The clock neared eleven, which signaled one hour left until the end of my shift when I would be handing the reins off to Rob, the overnight manager. There was only a small amount of time before I would have my first night free of Mr. Grayson’s complaints.
“Nothing?” Shannon asked as she crossed the lobby with one last cup of coffee from the lobby Starbucks. They were closed, but Shannon was friends with one of the girls that worked there and was able to get her hands on another cup while they cleaned up.
“Not yet.” I was about to say something else when the phone beside me rang. I glanced down, a familiar number flashing on the screen, then glared up at Shannon. “You did this.”
She held up her hands, eyes wide. “I’m sorry!”
I blew out a breath, then picked up the receiver. “Good evening, Mr. Grayson.”
“There is a fucking party going on in the room next to me. Shut them the fuck up!”
I had to pull the phone away from my ear as he yelled, clearly more agitated than normal.
“Right away, Mr. Grayson.” I hung up the phone and looked at Shannon. “Does he do this when I’m not here, or am I just lucky?”
She nodded. “I heard he cracked James’s perfect smile yesterday.”
“Insufferable,” I mumbled as I stepped around the desk. “I’ll be right back.”
“Good luck!” she called as the elevator doors closed.
Due to the ire I’d heard in his voice, I figured the party must be really loud. The hotel was built with great sound barriers between rooms to make sure guests slept their best.
The music was loud enough that I heard it almost to the elevators. I was surprised Mr. Grayson was the only one who complained. The realization dawned on me that he didn’t tell me which room it was, but by the volume of the music, it wasn’t hard to figure out.
I rapped swiftly with my knuckles on the door and waited. There was a cascade of laughter on the other side, but no response. The second time I knocked much harder, making sure they took notice. When the laughter died down, I knew I’d been heard.
The door swung open, and I was greeted by a guy that looked to be around my age, maybe a little older. There was a beer bottle in his hand and a big smile on his face.
“Hey, sweet thing,” he said, somehow sounding smooth though I could tell he was drunk.
“Good evening. We’ve received a few noise complaints and need you to turn the music down.”
“It’s a party, baby. There’s got to be music,” he said before holding his arms out and gyrating his hips at me.
“Party or not, you’re being too loud and we have guests that are trying to sleep.”
“Just listen to her and shut up,” a gruff male voice called from down the hall. The sound lit up every nerve ending as it traveled down my spine.
Fifteen feet away in front of his door was Mr. Grayson, standing in nothing but a set of plaid sleep shorts. My mouth dropped open as an unfamiliar, warm feeling spread through me at the view of his bare chest and just how fit he was. His hair was not in its usual impeccable style, but sticking up in every direction. The frown he wore was something I was very familiar with, but it gave him a gruff sexiness.
“Shut the fucking music off. Some people are trying to sleep,” Mr. Grayson growled, clearly aggravated.
“Whatever, man,” the drunk guy said.
I looked back to the occupant, noticing that his four friends were snickering. “Turn it down, and keep it down, or I will be forced to remove you.”
“Bitch, we paid. You can’t do shit!” one of the occupants yelled out.
The guy at the door wore a smug smile. “Maybe you can come in and help us quiet down.”
In my periphery, Mr. Grayson took a step forward. “Don’t talk to her that way.”
“Dude, go back to bed. We just want to have some fun,” the creep said as he wrapped his arm around my waist.
It stunned me, and took me a second before I realized what was happening, and then I was pushing against his chest. He was laughing, but I didn’t have time to react further before Mr. Grayson ripped the creep’s hand from me and pinned it behind the guy’s back as he pressed him against the wall. His bottle of beer fell to the floor, spilling some of the leftover contents onto the carpet.
“Don’t touch her,” Mr. Grayson spat. “She isn’t some street whore.”
My heart slammed in my chest as I watched him manhandle the guy. I had to admit, it was a turn-on. Especially knowing it was in my defense.
The creep struggled to get out of his grip, but Mr. Grayson only held him tighter. “Get off me, man!”
“All she is asking is for you to quiet down so that I am not up her ass about the noise. It is
not an invitation for you to hit on her or touch her in any way. Do you understand?”
All of his friends stayed in their place in the room, watching the events unfold.
“Let me go,” was the guy’s only response.
Mr. Grayson moved his arm, tightening his grip as he pulled more, making the creep wince in pain.
“I said, do you understand?”
“Yeah . . . y-yes!”
Mr. Grayson released his hand as he shoved him back into the room. They closed the door, and the music immediately died down. He came over, stopping in front of me.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he looked me over before his eyes locked onto mine.
It was the first time I’d been close enough to notice his eyes. While there wasn’t much noticeable difference from a few feet away, with barely a foot separating us, the color difference between his eyes was obvious. He had heterochromia—his right eye was a crystal-clear sea blue, while his left eye was green.
“What?” he asked, noticing my pause.
“Your eyes . . .” My gaze flashed between the two, bouncing between them to compare. “Your eyes are beautiful. I hadn’t noticed before.”
The tightness in his features relaxed. It was only a brief moment before they hardened again and he stepped back. “Yes, this entire hotel staff seems not to notice a lot of things.” With that, he headed toward his door.
“Thank you very much for your help, but I could have managed without it,” I said to his back.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Perhaps, but sometimes it takes a strong hand to handle those who are out of control.”
“Do you use force often?”
That stopped him, and he turned back to me. “Physically? No. There are other ways to get people to do what I want.”
“Like yelling at them.”
He didn’t respond as he stepped back into his room. “Goodnight, Emma.” Then the door slammed.
“Goodnight, Mr. Moody,” I said before heading down the hall toward the elevator. I needed to find Miguel and file a report about the room next to him.
Still, even though he was cold as per the usual, there was something about the way he came to my defense that had warmed me up to the man. At least a little, anyway. Especially my body.
The alarm went off, startling me awake. I was disoriented. What day was it? What time? The clock read nine, but was that morning or night?
I went through a list.
Groceries? Done. Homework? Done. Work?
I let out a sigh and pulled the blanket over my head. Oh, that was why the alarm was going off.
One day. That was all I wanted. Just one day that was free of both school and work. One day to stay curled on the couch with takeout and binge Netflix.
At least Mr. Grayson’s reservation was almost over and there would only be a few more days of dealing with him.
With a groan, I peeled myself out of bed. I hated third shift. Nothing like going to work in the middle of the night and coming home when the sun was creeping into the sky. Each step to the shower was torture. I had taken about a three-hour nap, but it just seemed to have made me more tired.
Instead of being awake, I was a zombie. A quick shower didn’t help, and my body was still sluggish as I walked to the kitchen in search of something that would help. Inside the fridge, I found a Rockstar Energy Drink and began eagerly sucking it down.
With a few ounces in me, I returned to getting ready. It took a few minutes, but I began to feel more and more human with each sip. Once dressed, I returned to the kitchen to grab another for work.
“Shit,” I hissed as I looked to find there were no more. I’d just gone to the grocery that afternoon, so how could I have forgotten?
Starbucks was closed and didn’t open until almost six. I wasn’t sure I could hold out that long without my head falling onto the desk. Nothing I could do about it, so I was stuck with the half a can I still had left. Hopefully it would do. There was a coffee maker in the break room, but I hated coffee that wasn’t watered down with steamed milk and some vanilla.
The can was completely empty by the time I pulled into the parking garage. At least I finally felt awake and energized. Being almost eleven, everything was quiet as I headed toward the office. If it’d been a Friday or Saturday, things would be different, but it was Wednesday. There were bound to be a few stragglers at the bar, but the lobby was going to be empty.
When I entered the office, James was headed toward the door I’d just come through, and his eyes popped open in surprise.
“Good evening,” I said with my arms open wide like I was presenting myself.
James chuckled and shook his head. “That’s an invitation.”
“An invitation for what?”
He stepped forward and leaned down to my ear, his hand resting on my hip. “For me to wrap my arms around you.”
“All touchy touchy.” I giggled.
He furrowed his brow at me. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. “I had a Rockstar, and I’m tired. Think I’m a bit slap happy.”
He chuckled at me and shook his head. “That’ll do it.”
“So, what’s on the agenda for tonight?”
“Reports.”
“Yay,” I said with little enthusiasm and a roll of my eyes. “That won’t put me back to sleep or anything.”
He shrugged. “I have a task for you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“And it’s more than looking beautiful.”
I couldn’t help the blush that spread on my cheeks. “James . . .”
“Okay, in seriousness . . .” he reached over to grab a small stack of papers “. . . when Valeria gets in, I need you have her double-check this inventory and product list ASAP. Miguel is going to send out the order as soon as he gets in at seven.”
“Got it.”
Caleb arrived a few minutes before James headed out the door. Once he was gone, it was just the two of us. The nights were normally pretty quiet. We used the time for tidying up the front desk, dealing with the occasional request or drunk, and watching the late night partiers crawl in.
The hotel bar closed at one, and after that, silence. It was a drag, and I found myself napping on my break only to be startled awake by my alarm.
“Slap me,” Caleb said around four.
“Can’t, I’m your boss.”
He let out a groan and then whipped his hand across his face, tousling his perfectly styled dark brown hair. The smack resonated around the silent lobby.
“Ow,” he said.
His cheek started to turn red, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Did it at least help?”
The corners of his lips turned down and his bottom lip jutted out. “No.”
I slipped off my heels, my feet killing me, and let out a sigh.
“Whoa, when did you get short?” he asked, his brown eyes wide.
Normally, Caleb and I were eye to eye, but with my shoes off, I was my regular five feet, five inches.
“Ha, ha,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
“I hate third shift,” he said after a few minutes of silence.
“Ditto.”
The hours that followed continued to drag on, but around five thirty, activity started to pick up in the lobby.
Just before six, I headed toward Valeria’s office. I was just passing the fitness center when something caught my eye, causing me to stop. A very familiar man was working out and looking very different than when I normally encountered him.
It was Mr. Grayson. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he pulled on the handles of the cable crossover frame, the weights rising and falling with his movement. It was hypnotizing. I couldn’t stop watching him, and my heartbeat increased while the blood pumped in my veins in time with his movement.
At least watching him I understood how he’d handled the creep from two nights prior. He was very fit, but I saw how strong he was as well. Not bulky like some of the meatheads I’d seen, but lean with broa
d shoulders.
I was lost in a trance when he looked up and our eyes met through the glass. The force of his stare startled me, and I made an embarrassing little jump before continuing on my way down the hall.
What was wrong with me? The man was infuriating and maddening and drove me crazy, but one look at him and for a few seconds I forgot all that.
Looks shouldn’t trump attitude, but somehow, his did. Which left me a weird mess of confused and turned on. Again, him coming to my aid all shirtless and manly and peeling that creep off me . . .
My hormones were a mess. Maybe my period was near or I was ovulating. Something had to explain my irrational responses to him, because I’d never had such a strong reaction to any man before, even James.
I shouldn’t get caught up in strange hormonal reactions to asshole guests that were going to be gone soon.
But that was when the doubt started to creep in. What if my desire to be with James was only a product of what-ifs? I liked him, there was no doubt there, but was there more than like?
Valeria sighed as I entered her office. “What now? Haven’t I bent over backwards enough for that man?”
I held up my hands and pursed my lips. “He’s very particular.”
“He’s a diva, Emma.”
“I’m not arguing. I’m the one that deals with most of his complaints.”
“What is it now?” she grumbled.
I knew that Mr. Grayson had made a reputation for himself, but his high standards seemed to hit Valeria hardest.
“It’s not him.”
“No? Then why are you down here?”
I held up the papers. “Inventory and reorder of Cameo logo material. I need you to double-check the numbers.”
She blew out a breath and took the sheets from me. “Why can’t we all do this on our own?”
I shrugged. “Company policy.”
She nodded. “I know. It’s just a colossal pain.”
She checked her computer against the list and made a few corrections and notations.
Valeria’s black hair fell out of her loose ponytail, her glasses slipping off the end of her nose. Normally, she was very put together, but I’d heard that her youngest was sick, which probably accounted for the less-than-pristine look. At only around five feet tall, new employees assumed she was harmless. Small but stern, she fired faster than any manager, which was why I was surprised by the pass she’d given to whomever released the floor of doom a few weeks back.
