by Emma Slate
Five minutes prior to my meeting with Gen, I grabbed my cell and suite key and left the room and headed for her office.
Annika smiled at me as I arrived. “You look like you slept well.”
I paused and then nodded. “I did.”
“You can go on in. She’s ready for you.”
“Thanks.”
I knocked on the door of Gen’s office and then entered. The woman didn’t know the meaning of dressing down. She was in what I was learning was her signature look. Another black, form-fitting dress, sheer black hose and three-inch stilettos.
She was perched on the arm of the leather couch and in the matching chair was a man with dark curls. His green eyes peered at me with interest as I came into the room and shut the door.
He rose slowly and I noted the breadth of his shoulders and the three-piece suit he wore.
I frowned in confusion.
“Eden,” Gen greeted. “Thank you for coming.”
It was a formality, of course, since I worked at The Rex and Gen was my boss.
“Ramsey Buchanan,” the man said in a Scottish brogue, stepping forward and holding his hand out to me.
I took it as I studied him.
He reminded me of Hadrian. Not physically, the two men were not built similarly. And I could tell Ramsey wore his suit and polish comfortably, unlike Hadrian—who seemed like he would’ve been content wearing animal pelts and carrying an axe covered in the blood of his enemies.
“Nice to meet you,” I murmured.
He gestured to the empty chair across the coffee table and I sat.
“You don’t know who I am,” he said.
I shook my head.
“I run The Dallas Rex.” He studied me. “I watched your interview with Genevieve.”
“Watched? You mean I was being filmed?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Honey, you’ve been filmed from the moment you stepped out of the town car outside The Rex,” Genevieve said dryly.
Ramsey knew, then. About my past and why I’d come to The Rex for help.
“The reason I’m here,” he continued, “is because something unusual has happened. You’ve been offered an exclusive contract with a client.”
“I don’t understand…”
“The client you were with at The Mansion,” Ramsey added.
“Hadrian?”
“Yes,” Genevieve said.
A thrill of excitement shot through my belly, but I forced myself to remain visibly unmoved. Cold. Detached.
I wasn’t sure continuing any sort of relationship with Hadrian was a good idea. In fact, I knew it wasn’t.
“We’re not at liberty to divulge specifics. He wants to be the one to discuss the contract with you directly, and of course your compensation,” Genevieve continued.
“What about my training period?” I asked.
“If you agree to his terms, then you’ll forgo the training period until you come back to The Rex,” Gen said.
I blinked.
“You can get on a plane this afternoon and be in New York to have dinner with him this evening if you agree to meet with him.”
“He’s in New York?”
“He had some business to deal with,” Ramsey said. “But he wants to meet with you immediately.”
I wondered if his business had to do with the phone conversation I’d overheard.
“If you’re concerned about your safety—” Gen began, as though I had failed to hide my emotions.
“I’m not,” I interrupted. “He wasn’t forceful. He treated me…it was fine.”
“Fine?” Gen repeated with a look at Ramsey.
“Am I allowed to refuse his contract?” I asked.
“Of course,” Gen said. “If you refuse his contract, you will come back here and continue with the training program like we had originally planned. Nothing changes.”
“No, I mean, am I allowed to refuse right now? And not even fly to New York to meet with him?”
Ramsey glanced at Gen and then back to me and said, “I don’t normally discuss our clients, but I know Hadrian personally. He’s a man of his word—in all regards. You want to meet with him. Trust me on that.”
“I don’t trust anybody,” I said before I could hold it back. “You’re vouching for Hadrian, but you said you know him personally. Does that mean you’re going to tell him who I am…tell him about my past?”
“No. You’re a Rex girl, and the rules don’t get bent for anyone, not even Hadrian. Meet with him and then decide. What do you have to lose?”
Chapter Thirteen
“Would you like another glass of champagne, ma’am?” the flight attendant asked with a pleasant smile.
“No, thank you, I’m fine. Just a glass of water, please.”
She nodded and scooped up the empty champagne flute and moved through the rest of the empty cabin of the private aircraft.
It was only my second time on an airplane, and I was being flown on a private jet to New York City to meet with a man I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I could grow used to this.
Two hours after my meeting with Ramsey and Gen, I was on my way to the airport in the back seat of a jet-black Mercedes Maybach with a driver dressed in a bespoke suit, and a new ID and social security card in my purse.
I had become Eden Smith. They’d come through for me.
The Great and Powerful Rex.
I didn’t take any luggage—not that I had any appropriate clothes to pack anyway, and Gen had assured me my wardrobe would be taken care of when I got to New York. A woman named Elodie would greet me at The Manhattan Rex.
“She’s the New York version of me,” Gen had explained. “You can take her into your confidence, and you can discuss with her anything you would discuss with me.”
Before takeoff, I remembered to text Tiffany and quickly filled her in on the fact that I was leaving for New York. I hated that we wouldn’t have a goodbye dinner before she flew to London, but she understood.
The champagne fizzed in my blood. Or maybe it was excitement. I couldn’t tell which.
I’d tried to play it cool in front of Gen and Ramsey, but inwardly, I was warring with myself. Yes, I wanted to see Hadrian again. Of course I did. Our night together had been spectacular. But the other part of me didn’t think it was a good idea. I could already feel my clear-headed judgement clouding.
Curiosity had gotten the better of me. After I heard his demands in New York, I could still walk away and return to The Rex.
“We’ll be landing soon,” the flight attendant said, startling me out of my thoughts.
I lifted the slat on the window and peered through the white clouds. Before I knew it, we were descending. I stepped down the ladder of the aircraft directly onto the tarmac and saw another Maybach waiting for me. The driver stood by the open rear passenger door.
“Ms. Smith,” he greeted.
“Hello.”
“I’m Kent. I’ll be driving you to The Rex. Get comfortable, and please, let me know if there is anything you need. There are drinks and snacks in the back for you.”
After I scooted in, he closed the door. I looked around at the luxurious interior as the driver climbed into his seat up front.
As we sped away, my eyes were glued to the stretches of dirty highway, busy billboards, and the New York City skyline. Traffic flowed despite the numerous cars on the road. Kent didn’t attempt to talk to me, which I appreciated. The silence was welcome, and I was able to think in relative solitude.
When we pulled up to the curb of The Manhattan Rex almost an hour later, a hotel doorman opened the car door.
The Dallas Rex Hotel had nothing on its Manhattan sister. Though they were similar in decor, there was something unique about the New York location.
Maybe it was the city. Maybe it was the overall energy, the frenetic pace of life here. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Though it was familiar to me because I’d spent the last week at The Dallas Rex, The
Manhattan Rex felt like its own entity, the queen bee of the hive.
“The original,” a woman said, approaching me. “There’s nothing like the original. Even if we copied the exact floor plan and decor and put it in another city, The Manhattan Rex is one of a kind. Iconic.”
I looked at her. She’d apparently been watching me take it all in, noting my expression.
“Elodie?” I asked.
She smiled. “Yes.” She held out her hand to shake mine. “Don’t lose that,” she warned.
“Lose what?”
“Your ability to get lost in a time and place. It’s good to have that in your arsenal.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that there’s still an innocence about you. A naive wonderment. Hold onto it as long as you can. In our industry, it’s easy to become jaded.”
I didn’t know what to say in response, so I said nothing.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your suite.” We strode across the immaculate lobby toward the elevators. She was a stunning woman, with elegant caramel highlights in her perfectly styled light brown hair. Only average in height—a little shorter than me—there was something about her that drew the eye. Confidence, no doubt. She walked with regal grace and I wondered if it was her natural gait or if it had been taught.
Elodie pressed the “up” button on the elevator.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
She glanced at me. “Sure.”
“Is this usual? Contracts, I mean. Does this happen at The Rex often?”
She paused and then said, “No. It’s not the norm. It happens from time to time. But usually our girls stay with The Rex.”
I pondered why Hadrian would want me for an exclusive contract. Sure, we’d spent the night together. An incredible night. But was that enough to make him want me again? And if so, why not come to another event and ask me for my key? Or did he think that was too much trouble?
As my thoughts swirled, the elevator arrived, and we stepped in. The carriage was empty save for an operator. When we reached the twelfth floor, we got out and Elodie started talking again. “There will be a car waiting for you at eight to take you to the restaurant where you will meet Mr. Rhys.” She headed to the door of my suite and opened it for me, and I went inside. “If you need anything, call the front desk. Otherwise, I’ll see you at six to bring you your clothes for the night.”
She turned to leave. The door clicked shut and I was alone.
I lay down with the intention of taking a quick catnap. It seemed like I was only asleep for a few minutes when my phone jarred me awake with a buzz. I cracked an eye open and reached for it on the bedside table. It was a text from Tiffany telling me to enjoy my night.
I’d been asleep a lot longer than I thought. Early evening sunlight streamed through the gauze curtains. It was just past five, and I still had more than enough time to get ready, but I needed to get moving. I took a shower and blew my hair dry. The suite had been supplied with makeup, hair products, and other styling tools. While the heating wand was warming up, there was a knock on my suite door.
I went to the front room and looked through the peephole. Opening the door, my eyes immediately went to the garment bag slung over Elodie’s arm. In her other hand, she carried a brown shopping bag.
“Your dress,” she said, brushing past me and entering the suite.
I closed the door and then turned around. She placed the garment bag on the couch and unzipped it. Elodie pulled out a black beaded dress and held it up for my inspection.
“Elodie, if you’re the New York version of Gen, why are you bringing me my dress in person?”
“You have no idea who Hadrian Rhys is, do you?”
“Should I?”
“It’s short,” she explained as she ignored me, twirling the hanger to show me the gown. “But it has a high neckline with long sleeves and also conceals your back.”
I took a step closer so I could reach out and touch the exquisite dress. “Are those pearls?”
She nodded. “Black seed pearls.”
“It’s stunning.”
Elodie’s gaze bored into me. “It doesn’t take long.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Getting used to this lifestyle.” She shrugged and then let out a laugh. “You’ll come to expect it eventually. And you won’t ever want to go back.”
I swallowed, not liking the finality of her statement, but Tiffany had said the same thing.
“In the brown bag are a pair of black stilettos and the appropriate jewelry for your evening. What were you going to do with your hair and makeup?”
“Big curls but leave it down.”
Elodie nodded.
“Subtle eyes and a bright red mouth,” I went on.
She grinned. “He won’t know what hit him.”
Chapter Fourteen
I climbed out of the car with the aid of the driver. With my black beaded clutch in one hand, I strode toward the heavy oak doors of the restaurant. I approached the hostess and smiled.
“Good evening,” she greeted, setting a cordless phone down in its cradle. “Do you have a reservation?”
“My name is Eden Smith and I—”
“Welcome, Ms. Smith,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you. If you’ll follow me.”
She led me through the subdued, romantic restaurant, past people enjoying their bowls of spaghetti and meatballs and veal scaloppini.
We headed through the kitchen where there were two tables set so VIP customers could dine while their food was being prepared, and then continued on to another room at the back of the restaurant.
The walls were dark wood, and the light fixtures emitted a soft glow. It was dreamy and quixotic, with black and white sketches of vineyards and tables laden with food. The atmosphere was a blend of extravagance and earthy Italian home.
There was only one table and it was set with a white tablecloth, a breathing bottle of red wine, and a bread basket.
“Mr. Rhys will be joining you shortly,” the hostess said. “May I get you anything while you wait?”
I shook my head and set my beaded clutch down on the table. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
She cocked her head. “Enjoy your dinner.”
The hostess left me alone. There was no menu on the table, so I assumed that meant the order had already been taken care of.
I hadn’t eaten anything since that morning, so I took the olive oil shaker and dribbled it onto a bread plate. I added pepper and salt and then dunked a piece of bread into it before setting it in my mouth. I inhaled deeply as the aroma of freshly baked bread reached my nose, and then I exhaled in enjoyment.
“Eden,” a low, masculine voice greeted.
My spine snapped straight in surprise. I hadn’t heard anyone enter the room.
But that wasn’t what startled me.
It was the pleasure in hearing his voice.
Deep.
Brogue.
Familiar.
I turned slowly, needing time to prepare and steady my nerves.
Hadrian Rhys stood arm’s length from me, dressed in an immaculate three-piece gray suit. His blue-gray eyes surveyed me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
He sauntered toward me and I had the insane urge to take a step back, to flee. It was a mistake agreeing to meet with him alone. When all I wanted to do was—
Despite my mind trying to talk me out of this meeting, my body remembered him longingly. It wanted him; it yearned for his touch. And my body was telling my brain to shut up.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
I hadn’t been prepared for his polite countenance. If anything, I expected to meet Hadrian again and immediately do battle with his arrogant side.
“Shall we sit?” he asked pleasantly.
“In a moment,” I said, finally shaking off the spell of desire that came with Hadrian’s presence. “Why wasn’t I allowed to know the stipulations of the contract you’re propos
ing before coming to meet you?”
“I wanted to be the one to make you the official offer. And I had a feeling that if Ramsey and Genevieve had relayed information to you on my behalf, you’d have found a way to say no.”
“I could say no right now.”
He smiled in genuine amusement and it softened the harsh planes of his face. And it had me catching my breath.
“You could say no right now,” he agreed. “But I haven’t fed you yet. Maybe you should wait until after dinner. The pasta here is the best in the city.”
“I won’t be able to enjoy my dinner unless we discuss why I’m here.”
Hadrian picked up the wine bottle that rested on the table. He poured two glasses and handed me one. He grasped the other, holding it in his large hand—a hand that had brought me to the heights of pleasure.
I was suddenly transported to that evening, when I’d felt his fingers slide into me.
“You’re flushed,” he noted. He cocked his head to the side. “Thinking about our last time together?”
“No.”
His gaze was intense. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
I sighed. “Damn it, Hadrian.”
“What?”
“You make it impossible to play coy.”
“Playing coy is beneath you. I like you for your honest reactions.”
Hadrian set his glass down and then gestured to my chair before coming to pull it out for me.
I slowly moved to sit down and when Hadrian leaned over to help me scoot closer to the table, he said softly, “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said, hating that it came out breathy.
Hadrian took his seat.
We stared at each other over the glasses of wine and bread basket. The air was pumped full of tension.
“I want you to spend the next six months with me in Shetland.”
My fingers played with the stem of my glass. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
“Waste of time. I know what I want.”
“Six months is a long time,” I said.
“I’ll make it worth your while financially.”