Her Billionaire Bellboy

by Sophia Summers

  The actual bellboy approached her, and Trent watched, amused, but she just pointed over to him, and the guy, though obviously confused, nodded and approached another woman on the other side of the pool. He and the true bellboy both wore black shirts. That’s about all he could see that was similar.

  Every man on his team wore black today. They’d just come from a training meeting. Things were going well, and he’d stopped by to give the group a morale boost. Well, this whole experience was gonna give them plenty of morale at his expense. But he didn’t care. And besides, what better way to show the value of going after what you want, doing whatever it takes, and sticking with your goals?

  She was worth it, at least for now. What drove her? Who was she speaking to? What decisions was she making? And hearing she was having a rough day made him want to strategize with her to fix it.

  Trent had started as a consultant. And he’d turned around many a business. Fixing things was his job. Then he began buying them out, restructuring, and moving on. He saw talent and power on a regular basis. He could read people really well, and this woman excited him like no one he’d seen before. And then she’d turned vulnerable for a split second, admitting she could use a sounding board, and he was hooked. So here he was at the bar, waiting for her lunch, with the understanding he’d be compensated for the extra time. He shook his head.

  When everything was on a tray and he’d sent the bill to his room, he headed back to her. The phone was once again held up to her ear. He approached, giving her space to finish the call, but she waved him closer. He laughed to himself. Who knew he made such an excellent staffer? He set the tray next to her, and she waved him toward a seat.

  “That’s not good enough. This is the biggest deal of our year. If we don’t make some of this happen now, it’s not gonna happen.”

  She hung up and reached for a tapa. “Thank you. Here.” She waved at the food. “Have some.” She looked around again. “If you can.”

  “I can.” He took a bite and wasn’t surprised the tapas in Majorca were delicious. “This is excellent.”

  “Is it the first one you’ve had?”

  Her confusion amused him, but he chose not to answer. In truth, he wasn’t sure how he wanted to move forward with her. She had become the complete focus of all his curiosity. “So, tell me. Why the double?”

  She studied him. “I’m working on an event.” She sipped her drink and closed her eyes for a moment. “I’ve got an excellent assistant who takes care of most of this, but in a few areas my team is accepting substitutes. Excellence is seen in the little things, the tiniest details. And I have a better understanding of Majorca than they do apparently. I get what’s important. For example the oranges.”

  “The oranges?”

  “Si. They must be from Valencia. What kind of Regatta serves oranges from anywhere else?”

  Ah, so she was involved with the Regatta. “When you’re intimately aware of the local customs, I would absolutely stick with your gut. Get the correct orange.”

  She smiled triumphantly, which made him laugh. “But I always get a certain satisfaction when I can cut costs,” he said.

  She turned away as if to dismiss him.

  “If you can settle for less than the best where it does not matter, then you have extra to use where it does.” He lifted up her linen napkin. “For example, the napkin.”

  “The napkin?”

  “Certainly. Most people notice the value of a good quality napkin.” He fingered the cloth they’d used on his tray—it was a much more inferior fabric. “But they pay little attention to the type of tablecloth.”

  She stopped eating. “As someone who notices little things, I have to disagree. Something as simple as a tablecloth speaks volumes about the organizers. I guarantee what I’m planning would not provide many opportunities to cut costs.”

  He raised his eyebrows at the challenge. “Perhaps if you shared the specifics with me, I could work through it with you and suggest—”

  She waved him away. “No, thank you. This likely sits outside your area of expertise.” She nodded toward the pool deck. “But I do appreciate the listening ear.”

  “You’re welcome, of course.” In truth, he was itching to take a look at her books.

  “I’m sure you have to get back to work anyway.” She waved him away and returned to a study of her paperwork.

  He glanced over her shoulder and immediately saw two products she could handle differently and a very important, and often overlooked, expense in staffing. He leaned over her downturned head, close enough to smell the strawberry shampoo in her hair. His arm brushed her shoulder as he rested a finger on one line of her document. “Right here. This whole category can go. These two columns share the same workload.”

  She eyed him over her shoulder, and the flash in her eyes excited him. He was drawn to her confidence, all the while intrigued by the challenge and competitive edge she evoked in him. She nodded. “While I appreciate your assistance, I really have no further need for suggestions.”

  His irritation surged. His suggestions that were being so flippantly cast aside were worth an incredible amount of money. People paid top dollar for his help. And she dismissed him as though his thoughts counted for nothing. He opened his mouth to respond and saw the impossibility of their situation. She thought he was a bellboy. If he corrected her assumption and listed his credentials, he’d look pompous. So he dipped his head and turned on his heel back the way he had come.

  As he approached his team, the guys leaned forward, their eager faces annoying him. So he walked right past.

  “Ooooh. Trent’s met his match. We told you, you couldn’t take her.”

  He paused. “No one’s trying to take her.” He kept walking. But though he’d never thought of her in those terms, he’d welcome a good natured conquering of her fiery eyes, even if she discounted and disagreed with his years of experience and success. His ideas were sound and should have rung true to her.

  Who was this woman?

  Tim approached and slugged his shoulder. “Shake it off. What should I tell the guys?”

  “About what?”

  “About your free consulting hours.”

  He groaned. He’d agreed to help the first five people who signed up, answering their questions and working through some of their business problems. At first, he wanted to go pound out his frustrations, like in the gym or under a cold shower. But, on second thought, maybe a few hungrily listening ears and solving some problems would assuage his irrational urge to prove his worth to a woman he didn’t know. A woman that attracted him in every way.

  “Tell them I’ll be there.”

  “El Reino Tres.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the room.”

  Impatient to be alone for a moment more, he lengthened his stride to leave Tim behind. “I’ll be there.”

  “Can the others listen in?”

  He cringed. His advice was not usually for public consumption. He’d built his empire on those ideas. His ideas. “No.”

  “Got it.”

  He’d orchestrated this whole venture for two reasons. One, to show his team their potential in acquiring other clients. And two, to acquire one himself—the most elusive and potentially profitable client, Tehan Paixao, prince of Milandro. If he could win over Tehan, many of the other royals would follow, including the guys from Torren, and potentially the most impossible to get of all clients, Gregario Santorini.

  If he could break into consulting these small countries on their business acumen, their ability to turn a greater profit, he could move from one to another and solidify Link Capital as the premiere international consulting firm, guaranteeing his wealth for many generations to come.

  Trying to focus on why he had come to Palma was doing little to lessen his discontent at being tossed aside with a wave of the woman’s delicate fingers. He hadn’t felt so frustrated by another human in a long time. He’d tried to help her, and she’d infuriatingly ignored his solu
tions.

  He walked through the halls of the resort, not seeing anything as he reviewed their conversation again. His ideas were sound. Was it his delivery? Five minutes later he began to see his own juvenility. He laughed. And he was all the more intrigued. She’d gotten to him. Wow, no woman had ever gotten under his skin like that. It felt maddeningly pleasant. When he recognized his own weakness, he felt better. Admittedly not happy, but better.

  His laugh carried out over the beach as he exited the resort’s lower gate and walked down to the water. The waves lapped up against the sand. He ignored the beach full of people turning to see who had been laughing so loudly. He’d never been so moved by a woman.

  Where to go from there? His problem-solving brain kicked into motion. He saw several obvious problems in their situation. Number one, she thought him a bellboy. Not that there was anything wrong with bellboys, but he didn’t view himself that way. Number two, she refused to take his advice. He couldn’t stand it when people refused his advice. And number three, he felt uncomfortable with his weakness in response to her. He’d been diminished to a happy lapdog with a wave of her hand. That vulnerability sat wrong with him. A new urge to challenge her tickled his tempestuous mind.

  His smile grew as he thought about her. None of those issues seemed to matter. He wanted to come back, to try again, even if she rejected him another time. He shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it. Or at least that’s the way it felt to him, being captured by a woman. Tomorrow he was going to do some capturing of his own. Beginning with a clearing up of who he was. He frowned. Did he want that, though? Here was a woman who wasn’t influenced by his reputation or wealth. His smile grew. Perhaps this whole misunderstanding might serve him well after all.

  Chapter 3

  Tess watched her bellboy walk past the guys who razzed him, give orders to an equally tall and broad-shouldered bellboy, and then exit the pool deck area as if he were off duty. She frowned. Maybe he was their manager? She couldn’t imagine him taking orders from anyone. The corner of her mouth lifted. Except from her.

  He’d done well. The hamburger was just as she liked it, a slice of lemon for her drink, extra water with her meal. They never understood the need for an extra carafe of water in Spain. And ice. The tapas were also excellent. She finished what she could of her meal.

  As she went over the numbers in her head, saw the columns he’d indicated in her mind, and reviewed her own staffing plans, an inkling of doubt began to fester. She dabbed her lips with the napkin and reached for the reports he’d pointed out. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and the already pleasantly cool and shaded pool deck now felt chilly. She pulled the robe closer around herself. The pool was beautifully blue, large, and mostly deserted. She appreciated this resort for its intricate tile work. They had hired an artist who imitated Gaudi’s style and she found it charming. Floral patterns weaving around turtles, lizards, and fleurs-de-lis, in the bright colors of spring.

  The columned numbers haunted her and drew her eye away from the tilework around her. As she ran her finger down the list of staffers and their assignments, she saw immediately what her irritation and dismissal had prevented her from noticing. At least two staff positions could be combined into one. That alone would create a surplus in available funds that she could use for even more exquisite details. She checked through all the other places she had spent extra on small details and had to agree somewhat with his tablecloth assumption as well. She preferred good linens and did notice tablecloths. She’d been known to finger the delicate fabric at royal events. But she could easily downgrade with no one the wiser.

  An odd sense of satisfaction filled her at the thought. She’d never given much attention to cutting costs. When an event merited expense, she was always free to spend whatever she needed. But imagine if she were to go through her whole operation with an eye for maintaining quality while managing expense.

  She scribbled notes as ideas came to her, and she scanned the paperwork, wishing for more of her financial reports from home. She wanted to find her bellboy to discuss more of his ideas. She whipped her head up, her neck craning to find him. The men in the corner had dispersed somewhat, but those who remained were still paying attention to her. Had they nothing to do? Perhaps it wasn’t their shift. Her man had not returned, so she gathered her things into her work bag, slipping the laptop in its slot, and retied her pool cover-up. She left in the direction he’d gone.

  The guys nodded to her. They seemed friendly enough, and none of them gave off a creepy vibe. They didn’t seem to recognize her, either, which was also helpful. She didn’t often get recognized when not on her own island. They were a small country, and most people associated the crown with her father or her mother. She’d requested and been granted some semblance of privacy as she grew up, and she was still reaping the benefits of that in her twenties.

  The press would be there in force for the Regatta and gala, though. She couldn’t blame them. Everyone who was anyone had signed up. Her summit, gala, and Regatta would all be a huge success.

  She prided herself on her ability to recognize talent. She chided herself for not immediately noticing the same in her bellboy. She exited the pool area into a white stucco, open-air hallway. She followed a series of these, cutting through many picturesque courtyards that smelled of delicious jasmine, until the final hallway opened up to the beach. She was about to turn back, dismissing the crowded sand, with its sunblock and cigarette smoke until she saw him rotating his arms and stretching at the water’s edge.

  She swallowed. He was beautiful. No wonder she’d not seen past his physique and position to recognize the remarkably adept and perceptive business mind that was at the heart of his allure.

  As she approached, she recognized the scent of the soap or aftershave he used. Something she’d noticed in the United States before. Perhaps he was American. From his accent, she couldn’t be sure. She approached him and stood quietly at his side.

  He didn’t turn his head her direction, but the corner of his mouth lifted, telling her he was aware she’d joined him. “Hello.”

  “I went through the numbers. Your two suggestions just saved me thousands of euros.”

  He nodded. “I know.” Confidence shimmered off of him in waves.

  At once, she made up her mind, adjusting the strap on her bag. “I need you on my team.”

  His eyebrows rose, but as he turned, the direct force of his gaze sent bolts of energy through her. Recognizing her equal, she could feel her confidence rising just by being close to him.

  She nodded. “What will it take?” Surely he would want to leave the life of a hotel staffer. “I run a substantial operation. It might require travel and relocation, but the compensation would far exceed what you are currently earning.”

  “Would it?” The amusement that flashed through his eyes confused her.

  She started to nod.

  “I’m highly flattered at your offer.” His arms crossed over his chest, and Tess forced her gaze away from the muscles that shifted and rolled beneath his tight shirt. Something changed in his eyes, something calculating. “Perhaps I could have your phone number and we could discuss it further?”

  Taken aback that he wouldn’t jump at her offer, she nodded slowly. “Of course.” She reached in her bag for a business card. She carried non-royal business cards for moments when she didn’t want the whole crown issue to come up.

  His eyes widened slightly as he glanced at it, but he pocketed her card without comment. “Would you like to go for a walk?” He reached for her bag, and she nodded.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He led her along the beach toward the nature preserve next door to the resort.

  “Are you on break?” she asked.

  “You could say that.” He said so little, his gaze out to their front. At least this way she got a clear, uninterrupted view of his jawline. The slight scruff along his chin kept her attention. She had a thing for jawlines.

  “So, I gath
er you aren’t from around here.”

  She shook her head. “Not really, though I might be considered a neighbor. I’m from the island Pantos.”

  “Ah, the land of King Gregario Santorini.”

  Her breath hitched, but she kept her voice casual. “So you’ve heard of us.” For some reason, she did not want him to know she was heir to a throne. Not yet.

  “Naturally. He’s created quite an empire.”

  They were one of the world leaders in olives exports. And he ran substantial holdings around the world in oil. “Yes, we are proud of our heritage and the success we’ve found worldwide.”

  “What are his chances of winning the Regatta?”

  She laughed. “Planning on placing bets?”

  “Of a sort, yes.”

  “Then I’ll give you the inside information.”

  He leaned closer, his eyes sparkling. “Lay it on me.”

  “This kind of information is valuable. Perhaps in partial payment for the assistance you gave me earlier?”

  He tilted his head. “That help was free of charge, a teaser.”

  His words flowed around her. He was talking of work and a hint of something more, something that enticed her, a wild freedom she’d never felt. “It worked. I’m sufficiently intrigued.”

  He nodded, his hand brushing past hers, just close enough she could almost feel it against her own.

  She reached out her pinky so that it brushed across the side of his palm. “Should I offer my own teasers?”

  He flexed his fingers, his eyes searching her face before he nodded, a slight movement, but she felt the power of his answer flow through her.

  “We’re a sure thing.”

  His eyes widened. And then she realized the potential confusion. “Our boat, The Temptation. We’re going to win.”

  His skepticism would have bothered her, but she knew everyone was predicting that the Italians would take it this year. She shook her head. “Trust me.”