Welcome to the Cameo Hotel

by K. I. Lynn

  “Are you deaf as well, Emma?” He walked toward me and stopped just short of my body, invading my personal space, and leaned in close, his hand resting on the wall beside my head. I could smell him at that distance, and the bastard smelled divine. “You’ve moved me already, and besides the leak in the bathroom, I quite enjoy this room.” His gaze moved up and down my body and his tongue peeked out to lick his lips. “You will just have to find another way to compensate me.”

  Blood rushed to my cheeks as my hands fidgeted with the hem of my jacket. We were inches apart, and all I wanted to do was lean forward and press my lips to his. The heat rolling off him lit up every nerve in my body.

  I had to be misinterpreting him. I had to be. The strange quickening of my pulse when I saw him, the butterflies. It was just another overreaction from my body, finding what it wanted to hear and see and turning it into something seductive.

  “At your service, Mr. Grayson,” I squeaked out, flustered.

  I was close enough that I could have sworn I heard him groan, which almost made me groan in return from the rush of heat that moved through me.

  He pushed off the wall and resumed unbuttoning his shirt. “Get out of here.”

  It was the second night he’d dismissed me the same way. An electric pulse seemed to circulate between us, then suddenly, he became cold and calculated.

  “Hot, demanding bastard,” I grumbled as I walked down the hall, cursing his name as I fanned my face.

  My steps slowed as I got to the elevator and my heartbeat regulated. I hated what he was doing to me, the doubts he was instilling. Each encounter with him was destroying everything I thought I knew and wanted.

  Dealing with Mr. Grayson had pushed me to the point of losing sleep, which was something I definitely needed. Between his anger and his sexual presence, I was at my wit’s end.

  His stay was extended another week and I desperately wanted him to just leave, to let me get back to normal. I was tired of dealing with him, tired of being berated, and tired of lust-filled dreams about him.

  “Hey, are you all right?” James asked.

  “Hmm? Oh, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You just seem . . . out there.”

  I tried to give him a smile, but a strange heaviness in my chest stopped it. “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

  There seemed to be an invisible wall between us, but that didn’t stop James. Maybe he didn’t feel it the way I did. It was almost like my personal space barrier had popped back to life with him.

  He rubbed his hand up and down my arm as he leaned down to catch my eyes. “You’ve got tomorrow off. Get some rest.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I’ve got class at nine.”

  “Well, that sucks. Okay, then go home and crash, then relax tomorrow night. You work day on Saturday, so rest up. It’ll be busy with the race.”

  “Crap, I forgot about that.”

  “It’s during the day,” he pointed out. “Take the subway, and you’ll be fine. I know you don’t like doing it at night, but the sun will still be up when you leave.”

  I nodded. “That’s true.” Taking the subway that day wouldn’t be bad at all.

  “How’s Grayson treating you?” he asked after a minute of silence.

  “Grayson? Same as always, but it’s fine.”

  “I don’t like that he’s always calling on you,” James said, his normal smile gone, replaced with something I couldn’t place, but if the tightness of his jaw was any indication, it was nothing good.

  “He does it when I’m not here as well,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, but not every night.”

  “What?” I blinked up at him. Every night I was on, there was a call from him.

  “There are complaints, but nothing like when you’re working.”

  I shrugged and tried to play it off, but it left me curious. Did he just like picking on me? “Maybe I’m just his favorite punching bag.”

  His lips formed a thin line. “Maybe, but I don’t think that’s it.”

  My brow furrowed and I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

  “Well, I’m out of here. Have fun tonight,” he said with a wave as he headed toward the door.

  “Hey, James?” I said, stopping him. He turned and smiled at me, and for the first time ever, my body gave no response. “Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  I stared after him as a lone tear slipped down my cheek. There was such a weight in my heart, a weight that hadn’t been there a few weeks prior. He’d done nothing wrong, yet I no longer felt connected to him. What was happening to me?

  My lunch break was spent in the lobby Starbucks, downing a quick latte and a sandwich as I read up on my business economics and statistics. I was actually absorbing it and getting my mind thinking about my next project when I was rudely interrupted.

  “I didn’t realize they taught such high-level academia to hotel supervisors,” a familiar, snide voice said, pulling me from my zone and speeding up my pulse. “I didn’t think one had to have more than a high-school education, based on my experience these past weeks, and someone with a high-school education would not be able to understand that subject.”

  I sighed, getting my bearings in place before I lit into him. “If you must know, Mr. Grayson, I am finishing up my MBA in just a few short weeks. No, this is not standard reading for a lowly hotel clerk. I work here so I can eat and have a place to live. A full course load combined with forty hours plus of work every week. Not to mention all the homework, and I still somehow manage to cook, clean, and maintain over a three-point-five grade average.”

  I sat back, folded my arms, and pursed my lips at him. He looked . . . surprised.

  “Well done, Emma. I knew you were somewhat more intelligent than the others, but that is beyond my expectations,” he said with his trademark frown.

  That only irritated me more. Was he making fun of me? The blood vessel in my temple began to pulse as I glared at him.

  “Excuse me?” He was lucky I didn’t bite him at that point.

  Pulling out the chair on the other side of the table, he inserted himself into my personal space. I hated the way my skin heated when his knee brushed mine. It was so contradictory to how my mind felt about him.

  “What I’m trying to say, Emma, is what you have accomplished is quite impressive.”

  “You’ve already managed to insult me, Mr. Grayson, by implying that you thought I was intelligent, but only slightly.”

  He blinked at me. “I’ve upset you. Interesting.”

  “Of course you’ve upset me. I’ve worked very hard to get through this program and still have a place to lay my head. I don’t have copious amounts of money to throw at an upscale hotel to live there for weeks on end. One night in your room is almost a month’s rent to me.”

  “I didn’t say you don’t work hard, Emma. I know you do, I make sure of it. I just . . .” he trailed off, his hand flying in agitation.

  And hitting my latte.

  The cup bounced on the table, popping the lid off and creating a latte explosion.

  All over my book.

  All over my clothes.

  “Shit!” I jumped up from my chair and picked my book up from the lake of latte that was swallowing it up.

  “Fuck,” he cursed before he turned to grab some napkins.

  I yanked them from his hand and began patting down the pages. “Great. Just fucking great,” I muttered. The book cost me over one hundred dollars used.

  “Don’t worry, Emma, I’ll get it. Go get yourself cleaned up,” Andrea, the barista, called from behind the counter.

  “Thanks!” I replied before giving her a strained smile as I ran out.

  “Emma,” I heard him call out as I stormed across the lobby, my book still dripping latte. “Will you let me apologize to you?”

  “No.” My heels clacked loud on the tile floor as I raced away from him.

  “Why not?”

  I whirled on him. “Do you real
ly want to know that, Mr. Grayson? Hmm? Because I can assure you I have more than enough ammo to throw at you.”

  I spun back around and headed through a door that led to one of the employee corridors, walking at as swift a pace as I could manage. The stress washed over me, swallowing me up. Still, I could hear his footsteps behind me.

  “Emma, will you just stop. Please.”

  “Go away!” I cried out. Tears stung at my eyes—the last thing I wanted him to see. Couldn’t he just leave me alone? Why did he have to keep picking on me?

  He grabbed my arm, and sparks ignited my skin as he pulled me back. My foot slipped at the sudden shift of my weight, and I crashed into his chest. The book dropped to the ground, and his arms wrapped around me as the momentum caused us to spin into the wall. The breath flew from my lungs as my back slammed into the concrete blocks with him crashing into me.

  Once we’d stopped, he pulled away from me and the tears started to spill from my eyes, flowing down my cheeks. My chest constricted to keep from sobbing, but it was no use. Panic filled his features: his eyes widened and his mouth opened.

  “Why won’t you just leave me alone?” I asked. He’d been torturing me in more ways than one since he walked in. Changing everything I thought I wanted.

  “Please, don’t cry,” he begged. His hands cupped my face, his thumbs brushing away my tears.

  “What did I do to you?” I asked, really needing to know the answer. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

  “I like you,” he answered, just as plain as anything, and I could see the truth in his eyes. My sobbing reduced to just tears streaming down my face, and I stared up at him like he was mental. “I’ve gone about it in a very juvenile way, I admit.”

  “How so?”

  The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Don’t little boys pick on the girl they like?”

  I gawked up at him. “You’re an adult, you know. If you like someone, you don’t beat them down and make them feel inferior. It’s called wooing. I have a dictionary, you can look it up.”

  He smirked down at me, wiping the remainder of my tears away, and I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. It was so much more than I could ever have anticipated. Such a small gesture, and yet my every cell lit up and begged for more. More of his hands on me, his lips. More of all of him. Maybe it had been so long since I’d had anyone touch me like that, or it was the attraction I had for him, I wasn’t sure.

  “I need to go change,” I said, forcing myself to pull away from his warmth.

  He nodded and stepped back, releasing me. “Let me pay for the replacement of your book.”

  I glanced up at the powerhouse that had rocked the hotel for weeks, into his beautifully different eyes. There was no malice, no anger, none of the emotions I was used to with him.

  “Okay,” I said, not knowing how else to respond.

  “Have a good night, Emma,” he said in a low voice.

  My heart thumped hard in my chest. “You, too, Mr. Grayson.”

  After our encounter in the hall, things changed. He still complained about everything, and even wrote a nasty letter to Alana, the maid Valeria had assigned to him. Apparently, he didn’t like the way in which she folded the towels.

  His stay was extended indefinitely, making the staff less than excited. I, on the other hand, was finally starting to understand him after his confession.

  “Really?” I asked with a quirked brow as he pointed to his latest irritation. My usual demeanor with him had become a little more relaxed.

  “There are spots. On the inside.”

  He wasn’t wrong about that, and based on the layer of dust around the windows, some were quite old. The windows were spotted on the outside due to the rain, but window washers came frequently to clean them. I wasn’t sure how often housekeeping cleaned the interior windows or if it was even part of their job.

  “I’ll have someone come clean it tomorrow,” I told him.

  His brow quirked up. “Tomorrow?”

  “Are you that demanding?”

  His lips twitched up. “Tomorrow is fine.”

  The way he smiled at me had my heart racing.

  “Oh, by the way.” I reached into my pocket and fished out the folded-up piece of paper, then handed it to him.

  “What’s this?” he asked as I handed him the receipt for my book replacement. I’d warred with myself about having him pay, but the book was ruined and my budget couldn’t take the hit for more than a few days.

  “The book.”

  “Right.” He pulled the wallet from his back pocket and fished out a few bills and held them out to me.

  Two one-hundred-dollar bills were pinched between his fingers and thumb.

  “It’s only one-fifty,” I pointed out.

  “Keep the rest,” he said. “Besides, I don’t have any smaller bills on me.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, and stood my ground. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  I blew out a breath. “Because I had a hard enough time deciding if I’d ask for the replacement money.”

  “Why is that? It was my action that caused the damage to your book.”

  “Because you’re a guest, and it was an accident,” I said as I took the bills from him. I kept one, then handed the other back. “Here.”

  He gave the bill a dirty look, then shook his head. “Take it.”

  “Mr. Grayson, I can’t. That’s like a tip or a bribe, and I can’t take it.” Why was he giving me such a hard time?

  “If you don’t shut up, I’ll kiss you to make you stop talking.”

  My mouth went slack as I stared at him. “You wouldn’t.”

  He stepped forward, his hand reaching out and settling on my hip before snaking around my back. With a sharp tug, he pulled me against his chest.

  “Oh, Emma, you have no idea what I would do to you.” The way he said my name was different than before. Tender, almost.

  My hands rested on his chest, the bills long forgotten as I shuddered at the feel of his body against mine. Every inch of our bodies that touched was alive, pulsing with a need I’d never known. I kept my gaze locked onto the collar of his shirt, knowing I couldn’t control myself if I looked up.

  “Why are you breathing so hard?” he asked.

  Was I? I leaned forward, my forehead resting on his collarbone, my fingers digging into his chest. The way he made me feel with a single look was nothing compared to the system hijack of his touch. Every part of me responded to him in the most violent, lust-filled reaction I’d ever had. The intensity was dizzying.

  “You should go.” His voice was thick and rough and licked at the flames inside me. His hand dropped from me, and I reluctantly pulled back.

  The dismissal was so similar to previous ones, but unlike the past, when I looked at him, he was staring back. His features were still as neutral as ever, but his eyes . . . his eyes sent a shiver through me.

  “Good night, Mr. Grayson,” I whispered as I turned to leave.

  “Emma,” he called out.

  I blinked back at him. “Yes?” He gestured to the ground and the bills that had fallen. “Oh.”

  Just as I began to lean over, he stepped forward and snatched the bills from the ground and held them out for me. “I really can’t take you bending over in front of me right now.”

  The fire that pulsed through my body at the thought of him being so tightly wound for me was empowering. I hoped maybe he was having a similar reaction to me like the one I was having to him.

  Twenty-four hours of yearning simmered inside me as I stood behind the front desk. That was how long it had been since I’d seen my torturer, Mr. Grayson.

  Just after six, the phone rang and the fire inside me flared. I knew immediately who it was.

  “It’s Mr. Grayson,” Caleb said as I looked down at the phone. Without flinching, he picked up the receiver. “Front desk, good evening, Mr. Grayson.” There was a pause, but I didn’t hear any yelling. “We will remedy that r
ight away, sir.” When he hung up, he turned to me. “They didn’t get the windows cleaned or something. He wants someone up there.”

  “Meaning me, right?”

  He nodded. “You’re the boss.”

  I sighed. “Joy. When I get back, you can go on break,” I said as I stepped around the counter and headed toward the elevator bay.

  There was a request in—I’d made sure of it—which made me wonder if there really were any spots or if it was just an excuse to see me. I really liked the latter.

  It had taken me almost a half hour to calm down after I left his room the day before. I still couldn’t believe what was happening between us. I just wished we could behave like normal people and not in secret.

  The walk to his room was second nature—a quick elevator ride, take a right and go down four doors. A swift rap of my knuckles against the door, and then I waited for the overwhelming force that was Gavin Grayson.

  “Hello,” he said as he opened the door. No scowl to greet me, no anger. There was a small upturn of his lips, a little more prominent on one side than the other.

  A shudder rolled through me, my heart doing double time again.

  “What’s wrong tonight?” I asked as I stepped into his room.

  “You’re not in it,” he said.

  My stomach flipped, and I felt heat flood my cheeks. How was it that in a few short weeks he had taken over my heart? I wanted, yearned for his praise. To get caught up in his eyes, loving the way they would soften and grow heavy as he looked at me.

  I drew in a stuttered breath as he stepped forward and towered over me. In heels I was a decent five-feet-eight, but Gavin had to be a few inches over six feet tall—a commanding presence as he loomed over me.

  “Emma?” He was so close I could feel his breath on my skin.

  “Hmm?”

  “I want you.”

  The muscles in my thighs clenched and I stretched up toward him, almost begging him closer. “Yes.”

  “To stop looking at me like that.”