by Suzan Butler, Emily Ryan-Davis, Cari Quinn, Vivienne Westlake, Sadie Haller, Holley Trent
“I didn’t know how to tell you this, but, I got a call tonight, G,” he said. He shook out his shirt and looked around.
A call. Great. She didn’t need to know what kind. She pointed to the bedroom door. “Drape the shirt over the ironing board.”
“Okay. I’ve got your work uniform in my truck, by the way. I’ll bring it up later.”
“I probably won’t need it for a while,” she said to his retreating back. “We only wear white for Winterball.”
“That’s a shame. You look so good in it.”
“You’re full of shit, Max.” She leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes.
“G, I don’t compliment you because I think doing so will earn me anything.” He settled next to her onto the sofa and slipped his arm around her waist. “I do it because it’s the truth and I want you to know it.”
She couldn’t bring herself to just say thank you. Accepting compliments had never been easy, not even when they came from Max.
He gave her waist an insistent pull, and she put her head on his lap.
“What’d you do with the dress?” he asked.
“It’s hanging in the closet. Who do I need to send it back to?”
“It’s yours to keep.”
“Thank you,” she ground out, though she doubted she’d ever wear it again. She’d never be able to wear it without thinking of Max. But, was that such a bad thing?
“Like I was saying before, I got a call before I came over here,” he said. He began stroking her hair. “It came in when I was walking out of Henri’s office.”
She exhaled and pulled in a deep, calming breath. Didn’t help. If anything, she’d frayed her nerves even more. She couldn’t run from this, though. She couldn’t plug her fingers into her ears and act like not hearing the words would keep the future from happening.
“I didn’t think I’d have to go undercover again anytime soon,” he said. “I’ve been working behind a desk for a while and didn’t expect there to be any new leads on the cases I’ve been tracking.”
“That changed?”
He grunted. “Yeah. I guess you can’t really predict these things. I’m supposed to fly out to the Midwest the day after tomorrow.”
“Can—”
“No, honey, I can’t tell you anything about it. At least nothing that will make you feel any better. All I can tell you is that I’ll be vigilant and that I’m experienced in this sort of scenario.”
“And I won’t hear from you.”
He traced her hairline gently and swirled his fingertip around her earlobe. “I’m not going to lie to you. I’m going in deep. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get in touch.”
“All those times when I didn’t hear from you for months…were you…”
“Yeah. But only in the past few years. I don’t have a good excuse for why you never heard from me when I was in college. All I can say was that I was a punk, and I’m sorry for making you think I didn’t care. Damn, girl, I was so scared of you.”
“Scared of me?” She sat up. “Why?”
“You’re a lot of woman, G. Always have been. The fact that I have to wear a mask and leather and talk to you in my Dom voice to have any control over a situation should tell you just how much you affect me.”
“Bullshit. You don’t have to do any of that. I play along because I want to.”
He laughed. “Now who’s talking shit?”
“It’s true. A girl like me isn’t supposed to like that kind of thing.”
“So, you’d play with me for real? Be my only sub?” He looked way too damned jubilant, so she laughed, too.
“Let’s not get carried away.” She pulled her feet beneath her and fixed her gaze on the rain hitting the window. “I do like normal missionary sex in actual beds on occasion, too. Sometimes, I just want to lay there and let you do all the work.”
“I won’t judge you for that.” He rested his forearms atop his thighs and looked toward the window, too. “Is it all right if I stay over until I have to fly out?”
Her stomach flipped yet again. “Dammit, Max.”
“I’m sorry.”
“If something happens to you…God. I don’t want to get a call like my mother did. I don’t want to be that woman who can’t cope with her man being gone.”
He pulled her onto her lap. “Oh, honey. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Listen, I can’t promise I won’t leave you scared sometimes. But isn’t hoping for the best and having all the good times ahead of us worth it?”
She couldn’t form any words. She just shook.
He held her tighter. “Come on baby, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do when you cry.”
“Tell me everything is going to be okay.”
“It will be.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“G…”
She sighed, sniffled, and wiped her eyes. “I’m a fucking mess.”
“That hasn’t changed in twelve years.” He tightened his grip on her bottom, and stood. “If you became reasonable all of a sudden, I wouldn’t recognize you.”
“Sometimes I can’t remember why we’re friends.”
“Because you love me.” He dropped her on the bed and laid her back. “Don’t you?”
“I should have never told you that.”
“Has it stopped being true in a day?” He crawled onto the bed between her legs and unfastened her robe’s ties.
“No.”
“You know I love you, right? Always have. Maybe I have a funny way of showing it sometimes.”
“Funny is an understatement.” He eased down his briefs and flung them over the side of the bed. In an instant, he was inside her, stretching her slowly and filling her completely.
His breath seeped out in a hiss as he lowered himself onto her and brought his lips to hers. “No one makes me feel as good as you,” he whispered against her lips, and eased out of her.
“It’s all in your head.”
“No. All in my heart. You keep forgetting that I have one.”
His thrusts were slow, but unyielding, designed to stoke her to a peak and keep her there. He brushed his thumbs across her taut nipples and kissed along her collarbone, diverting her attention from the fullness in her sex and her need to let go. Not just of her orgasm, but of everything.
She needed to let go of everything beyond her control and hold tight to the things she could.
She couldn’t control her pay at work, but she could control how she spent it. She could choose to be happy and ask for what she wanted. If she didn’t get it, she could choose to do something different at someplace else.
She couldn’t control her brain when she zoned out, or her body when it acted while she was in that state, but she could choose to seek treatment if there was one. She could choose to acknowledge that something wasn’t right and do all she could to mitigate it. She could choose self-care instead of ignoring the problem.
She couldn’t control what happened to Max while he was doing his job. He might get seriously injured. She might be left without him. But, she could choose to give him the full impact of her love anyway, because she’d regret not doing so far more than being an old woman who didn’t try to claim her one, great love.
And Max was it.
She dug her nails into his back and threw back her head. “Max?”
“Go ahead, honey.”
She let go. Of everything, except him.
Chapter Eight
Giselle put her hand in Max’s. He dropped a kiss onto the back and squeezed it.
They sat in his SUV for a few minutes, saying nothing, and just looking out the windshield at The Beaudelaire’s early-rising guests smoking out front.
Nicotine fiends.
She couldn’t really fault them for having a vice, though. Maybe she’d be calmer if she had one of her own.
After a while, she forced herself to look at the dashboard clock. Almost six
a.m. She needed to start her shift soon. There’d likely be a backup of breakfast orders awaiting delivery.
“Did you give any thought to what I asked you yesterday?” Max asked, jostling her from her thoughts. “About moving into my place?”
“I thought about it. Yeah.”
He kissed her hand again. “I’d like to see you there when I get back.”
“I can have an answer for you when you get back.” She sighed. “Whenever that is. I have a few months left on my lease.”
“I don’t think I’ll be gone that long.”
“But you can’t say for sure.”
He shook his head. “No. I can’t. I’d like to go thinking you’re leaning toward yes, though.”
“I’m leaning toward yes,” she admitted, somewhat grudgingly. She hated the idea of giving up something she’d struggled to keep for so long, but she was tired of being stubborn. Sometimes, complete independence wrought complete exhaustion.
He pressed his hands to her cheeks and leaned in for a long, thorough kiss. “You still have a key. Make yourself at home. Feel free to clear some space in my dresser and leave your panties in it.”
She smiled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“G?”
“Hmm?”
His expression had gone serious. “Please answer your phone. Whatever number comes up on it, just answer it.”
She bit back an argument, but the little voice in her head that had grown louder since she’d stopped suppressing it so much, said, “Don’t make this a battle.”
“I may be able to check in from a payphone or someplace secure.”
“I’ll keep my phone near.”
“Do that.” He kissed her again, and brushed his lips across her cheek to her ear. He tugged on the lobe, and she gasped as he started whispering, “And I’m going to send you letters. They may not come with return addresses, but you’ll know they’re from me. And in them, I’m going to tell you things I want you to do.”
Her pussy clenched at the edge to his voice. Already, she knew his edicts would be simple home improvement chores. She swallowed. “What kinds of things?”
“Oh…” He twirled the end of her ponytail. “I’d like to surprise you, but suffice it to say that I’d like your ass to be primed for me when I get back. So, maybe I’d ask you to wear your plug while doing chores. Maybe I’d…” His hand slipped down to her lap and inched up her him. “Hmm…maybe I’d tell you to lay on my bed with that plug and play with your clit until you came. Or maybe I’d tell you what to do with all those clamps.”
Oh, God, the clamps.
“H-how would you know if I did it?”
“Because you wouldn’t lie to me.” His fingertips fluttered against the valley of her thighs, and she parted them for him. “You want to please me, don’t you? And know I’ll give you what you need?”
“Yes.”
“Simple as that, honey.” He fixed her skirt and straightened up in the driver’s seat. “You’d better go clock in.”
Sighing, she picked up her purse, and grabbed the door handle. “Can you call me when you land?”
“I can probably do that. Oh—by the way. Henri wanted to see you this morning. He’ll probably be in his office.”
“See me for what?”
He shrugged.
“Is he firing me?”
“I doubt it, honey. Give me another kiss and go. I want to emblazon the image of your ass while walking away into my memory.”
She rolled her eyes, but kissed him. “Bye.”
He winked and waved.
* * *
Giselle clocked in, and made her way from the employee break room to the management offices. She straightened her blouse and skirt, and then poised her fist in front of Mr. Beaudelaire’s door. If I’m lucky, he’s not here.
She knocked.
“Come in, Ms. Burke.”
Shit.
She cleared her throat, and opened the door, only to freeze at the threshold. “Sorry. Max said to come by. If I had known you had another meeting, I would have waited.”
Mr. Beaudelaire, looking fresh as a damn daisy at dark o’clock in the morning, waved her in. “No, no. You’re not interrupting. This is a joint meeting. Have a seat.”
“Uh…” She let her forehead furrow, and took the chair nearest the door.
Mr. Beaudelaire tipped his chair back and spun his pen between his fingers. “I’ve been doing some thinking lately, thanks to you.”
“Me? What did you do?”
“You remember telling me that you requested off and couldn’t get it approved because of our policy not to put inexperienced staff on the floor during Den events?”
“Vaguely.”
“Ms. Gibson and I looked over the staff lists and discovered we have a shockingly low number of tenured staff able to work those events. That is something we’ll strive to correct before the next event. Like I said, we’re due for a shake-up, starting now.”
She nodded. She didn’t know what to say, really, besides thanks for telling me, so she kept her lips zipped.
“And since we’re going to bring on and train new staff members for specific roles and career paths, I wondered if this would be a good time to ask existing staff if they’d like to change their positions here. I think most have been here long enough that they’d know if they had interest in other areas of hospitality. We’re a world-class hotel, but our quality is predicated on the happiness of the staff.”
“I see.” She had no idea what he was getting at. Just sounded like a lot of pretty words, really.
“I was just discussing with Chef what his staffing needs are, and he’s been shorthanded for a while. We’re shorthanded in a few departments, actually.”
Giselle twined her fingers atop her lap and just nodded again. What’s he getting at?
“I will be asking all the staff in time what their plans are, but I wanted to ask you first since you inspired the idea.”
“Ask me what, precisely?” She was generally the kind of woman who inspired sins, not epiphanies.
“I’ll be plain. Would you like to transfer to a different department? Of course, nothing would change except your role. Your pay grade will stay the same until your next evaluation.”
“I earn tips.” She clamped her hand over her mouth. Shit, that was tacky.
He waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll average them out and adjust your base pay if you do choose a new department. I want tenured staff at all levels, and the best way to get that is to ensure they’re fairly paid. So. What are your interests?”
“Huh.” She suspected Max had a little something to do with Henri’s new scheme, but for once, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She knew opportunity when she saw one. And that whole complete independence thing was sorely overrated, anyway. What was wrong with a bit of favor for a change?
She cast Chef a sidelong look. “I’ve…been wanting to transfer into the kitchen for some time. I think I’d be happier behind the scenes, and I’m comfortable with food.”
“Suits me fine,” Chef said, and stood. He crammed his hat onto his head and moved to the door. “I need to get back into the kitchen. We’ll work on getting you transferred over after this crop of Den guests evacuates.”
That’s it?
Seemed way too easy in her opinion.
When he was gone, Giselle turned to Mr. Beaudelaire and daringly narrowed her eyes at him.
He raised a brow.
“Max put you up to this, didn’t he?”
He set down his pen and opened a file folder on his desk. It had her name on the tab. “Whatever do you mean, Ms. Burke?”
“Maybe it’s ballsy to ask, but you’d really turn this hotel on its ear to make one staff member happy?”
“No. I’d turn this hotel on its ear to make all of my staff happy. The hotel is important to me, Ms. Burke, but The Den more so for reasons I choose not to make public.
I need people I trust supporting it. These events help people let go of their inhibitions. Maybe they don’t all make a love match while they’re here, but I’d like to think that most go home eager to connect to someone in a significant way. That’s important.” He canted his head to the side. “Don’t you agree?”
Her cheeks burned as she nodded. Even working for the hotel as long as she had, she’d thought the Den of Sin events were all about sex. Being a guest for a change, and with Max, had taught her otherwise. The sex was just an excuse to connect. To argue.
To make up.
She walked to the door, ready to start one of her last days in Room Service, and turned back with a thought. “You know, if you really want the staff to serve The Den well, it might help if they were invited to see what they’re missing. Just once.”
“Ms. Burke, I believe you’re right.”
Epilogue
“Come on, honey, pick up the phone.”
Max pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes against the pressure in his sinuses. Living out of a cheap motel room had some distinct disadvantages, including exposure to certain allergens that didn’t exist in rooms that had been vacuumed in the past decade or so.
He sat at the end of the lumpy bed and grimaced at the legs-up cockroach beneath the dining table.
“For fuck’s sake.”
Fourth ring. Goddammit, G, pick up.
“Hello?” came her wary voice.
“Hey, honey. Merry Christmas.”
“Max?” Her voice went up a good octave at the end of his name, so the sobbing that came next came as no surprise.
Didn’t break his heart any less, though. Damn, this job.
“Yeah, it’s me. This is a temporary phone number. Come on, honey, don’t cry. You know I don’t know what to do when you cry. I’m all the way out here and can’t do anything for you.”
“I can’t help it. I’ve been worrying since you got there.”
“Been worrying about you, too.” He looked down at his scuffed boots and the worn carpet, and suddenly hated this part of his job. It was easier for him to be cool and rational about it when his lady was within arm’s reach, but now he just felt sick and it wasn’t just the nasty goddamned carpet. “I’ve only got a few minutes to talk. What’d the doctor say? Did you go?”