by Nicole Dykes
She lets whatever hurt she feels wash over her quickly and shakes her head. “It was a wonderful mistake.”
Fuck. This is not good. “Gretchen, I'm your boss, and I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I wanted you to. Let’s not pretend I wasn’t totally willing and thrilled when you kissed me,” her voice turns husky as her hands slide up my thighs, “when you fucked me.”
“Stop.”
She stands up in an angry huff, folding her arms yet again. “It’s because of her, isn’t it?”
“Who?”
She cocks her head to the side, angry and annoyed. “Lola Sterling. She wants to sink her claws in you, Hayden. You’re exactly what she needs.”
I nearly laugh in her face but decide against it. Lola Sterling doesn’t need anyone. She might need the contract, but she doesn’t need me. “This is a separate issue.”
“You should have heard her yesterday, Hayden. She practically told me she would fuck you. And you’re just going to go ahead and fall for it.”
I hear the doorbell and stand, looking over at the clock and seeing she’s only three minutes late today. I turn to Gretchen quickly, not able to fully process what she just said. Part of me doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. Lola looks at me like she’d love to kill me, not fuck me.
And she already has the contract. She’d never need to sleep her way into work because her reputation speaks volumes about her.
“You need to go.”
I gesture for her to walk ahead of me, and she drops her arms to her side. “I could stick around, take notes.”
“No.”
She’s angry, but I think she finally accepts the seriousness in my tone and grabs her purse, heading toward the front door.
She yanks it open before I can, and we’re both graced with Lola Sterling. The woman just screams class. She’s wearing a cap-sleeved, button-down white blouse with a gray pencil skirt, and her blond hair in a loose bun.
I can’t see her eyes because they’re covered in black sunglasses, but I can feel her heated gaze as she turns to Gretchen. “Decided to join us after all?”
Gretchen bristles with apparent anger, and I don’t think she gave me an accurate account of the meeting. “I’m heading out.”
Lola removes her sunglasses, her sights set on Gretchen. Obviously these women aren’t fans of each other. “That’s too bad.”
Gretchen practically growls as she pushes past her, her shoulder making contact with Lola’s on her way out of my house, but she spins around at the last minute to address me. “I’ll call you this evening to check in, Hayden.”
Something tells me that’s all for Lola’s benefit, and I won’t be part of their childish games. I ignore her and turn to head to my office, hoping Lola just takes the hint and follows. I’m not in the mood to walk her through anything.
Luckily, I hear the door close behind me and her heels clicking on the floor as I lead the way to my office. I take a seat behind my desk, and she wastes no time sitting in her own chair, the one Gretchen just left.
She pulls out an iPad and quickly gets to business. I can’t deny it, I like her style. “From the pictures I've seen of the hotel, I've started with the lower level first. The theater. There are no seats as of yet, correct?”
“Not yet.”
She turns the iPad toward me, showing me a fancy theater chair that seems more like a recliner than a typical chair. “I think this screams luxury.”
I nod my head in quick approval, barely offering a grunt, and she turns the tablet back to her, flipping to the next picture to show me. “For the spa, I really love the ancient Roman vibe.” For some reason, that makes my chest swell with pride. The spa has three private rooms, complete with a Roman bath house pool and area for private massage and steam. “So, for the towels, I think it would make sense to have plain white towels with gold trim.”
I nod again in approval. She then suggests lantern-type fixtures that would be placed around the pool, and I agree.
She flips to the next picture. “Now, on the main floor, the restaurant—the pictures showed it to be pretty bare.”
“That’s where you come in. Tables. Chairs. The bar. All up to you.”
She doesn’t seem overwhelmed at all. She just flicks to the next picture, and I can’t help but feel impressed. “I’m thinking mostly black but with white tealights throughout—luxury mixed with some romance.”
Normally, I'm hard to please. I like to challenge people. But I can’t find anything wrong with her designs yet, which is starting to nag me already. No one is this perfect.
“Alright, I didn’t get a feel for the rooms yet, but I will.”
“Would you like to see them?”
“Now?”
I nod, standing from my desk. “Yes. Now.”
She stands, collecting her purse and tablet. “Sure.”
I lead her to my garage and signal for her to climb in the passenger seat of my car, but she eyes me suspiciously. “I can drive myself.”
“The hotel is at least a thirty minute drive. Get in.”
I know she wants to fight me. The stubborn streak is a minor annoyance I hope will dissipate soon. She huffs and opens the door, sliding in.
Then again, maybe I don’t want that at all.
He is incredibly infuriating. I study him as he drives us to one of the three hotels across town. He is especially frustrating because he’s so damn beautiful. I swear, looking at him, I feel like I’m appraising a fine piece of art, carved from stone and painted with elegant perfection.
“From now on, I expect you to be on time. Not even a minute late. I got the ‘fuck you’ message loud and clear, but I will not wait around for you.”
And then, he speaks.
“Lola.”
His tone is stern, and even though his eyes are on the road, I can feel his irritation.
“Understood.”
I hate bowing down to his domineering attitude when everything inside me is screaming to rebel, but I can’t. I’ve already worked my ass off preparing for this project, and I won’t quit now.
We arrive at a black metal gate, and Hayden punches in a code before it swings open and allows us to drive up the path to a grand hotel that even from the outside screams class and style.
He parks the car outside the hotel. There are a few trucks parked outside, and the smell of sawdust invades my senses as we walk into the grand lobby. The construction is still ongoing, and several sweaty men bustle around the main floor. One of them waves to Hayden, who gives a curt nod.
He gives me a tour of the first two floors we’ve already gone over before we move to the first floor with the guest rooms. Each floor only has two large suites, and I mean large.
We walk into one, my eyes drifting over the empty space I'm sure is the living room area and see a bar, I turn to look at Hayden. “No kitchen?”
“No.” I’m already growing tired of his short answers. My hand rests on my hip as I wait for more of an explanation. He gives in. “They won’t be cooking for themselves. That’s a waste.”
I suppose it makes sense. I open the double doors and see it contains the bedroom area. There’s no furniture except for a king-sized bed. “So, furniture selection is needed?”
“Headboards, side tables . . .”
“Television.”
“No.”
I swear, despite being nearly thirty years-old, Hayden is like a petulant child. “No?”
His head cocks to the side, looking at me like I'm stupid. “The bedroom isn’t for watching TV.”
My cheeks flush, catching his meaning. “Sometimes it is.”
“Not here.” He’s so damn stubborn I want to slap him. I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath to will myself to go on with this meeting. When I open them back up, Hayden is standing right in front of me, nearly stealing that breath away. His head dips to look into my eyes. “Bedrooms are for fucking and sleeping, period.”
I hate that his words, paired with t
he intensity in his eyes, cause me to swallow hard, begging for the dryness of my throat to disappear. “And if they’re here alone? Maybe they would like entertainment in bed.”
His right eyebrow quirks up, and I realize what I just said, knowing it didn’t come out the way I meant it to. “They can use their phones for porn.”
He makes me feel like a child, inexperienced and naïve. And I don’t like it. “It’s your hotel, but prepare yourself for bitching if you don’t have a television in the room.”
“There will be one in the living room. And if they want to piss and moan about something like that, they aren’t welcome anyway.”
He means it. Hayden West is not desperate for business whatsoever.
I eye the bed, ready to talk about something else. “I’m thinking charcoal for the bedding.”
His eyes meet mine. “Gray?”
“Dark gray. Elegant.”
He’s clearly not impressed. “Gray is still fucking gray. This hotel is not gray.”
I fight rolling my eyes, knowing that won’t go over well with an egomaniac like Hayden. “Fine. What is this hotel then?”
He looks annoyed yet again as he walks over to the large window overlooking the courtyard area outside. “That’s supposed to be your job. Not mine.”
I refuse to admire how well his suit fits his muscular body any longer and turn my attention to the bed. “Black. With very simple gold trim.”
He turns to face me, and I brace myself. “I like it. A hell of a lot better than gray.”
Again, I don’t let my eyes roll and quickly jot that down on my notepad. My eyes drift around the room, noting it will also need drapes to match. I think with Hayden, less is more. My instincts tell me to go with understated, not in-your-face, luxury. Subtle details.
I walk into the large bathroom and feel him behind me but don’t turn to face him as I take in all the details.
“Penelope is dating your brother?”
That was random. Now I do spin around on one heel and eye him suspiciously. His fascination with Penelope has me on high alert. “Are you her stalker?”
“What?” My question caught him off guard, and his reaction seems genuine. “No.”
“So then, why the interest in my partner? Did you see her picture when you did your background check and fall instantly head over heels or something?”
He’s perturbed by my line of questioning, but I couldn’t care less. I may want this contract, but not bad enough to put Penelope in harm's way. And I notice he didn’t argue the whole background check thing either. “Of course not.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
My eyes lock with his, and I don’t back away when he takes a step closer no matter how badly I want to. “I’m not lying. I ask one question and suddenly I'm a deranged stalker?”
“You were obsessed with her at our meeting.”
His eyes study me, and I force myself to lift my chin and not tuck it away from his harsh gaze. “I like to know everything about who I'm going into business with.”
“You didn’t ask much about me.” I flinch, knowing that sounds like I'm hurt by his lack of interest.
The slow smile spreading across his lips is infuriating. “There wasn’t much to learn, Lola. My P.I. found everything out about you in a matter of minutes.”
I bite my tongue, holding back the actual “fuck you” festering beneath the surface. “You really hired someone to dig into our lives?”
“I told you, I don’t take chances. Ever. Humans are disappointing. There are always secrets hidden under the surface.” He doesn’t touch me with his hand, but his eyes seem to stroke my skin as they move over me. All the way down to my heels and then back up to my face. “Except you.”
Do not let him see how much that bothers you. “Secrets are secrets for a reason. Some things even a P.I. can’t find.”
His eyes darken and flicker with something that makes me shiver as he leans in, his full lips taunting me. “Is that so?” I try to stay strong, keeping my back straight as I keep my eyes on his, which pulls his lips into a slight smirk. “Lola Marie Sterling. The oldest of four siblings. Graduated top of your class in high school and college. Went to work for your father right after college. Never married. No car accidents. Not even a parking ticket.”
Hearing my boring life broken down into even more mundane terms is disheartening, but I don’t react. “Public record. And what makes Penelope all that more intriguing?”
I know, but does he? “Her story is quite something. In and out of foster care most of her life until she was fifteen and moved in with a wealthy family that took her under their wing. Of course, I don’t know the details of what went on in that house or how it led to her dating your brother.”
I want to throttle him. “And what about you, Mr. West? If I hire an investigator. What will he find?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
He seems so sure, and I want to scream. “You sure about that, Hayden? Or is that your actual name?”
His body crowds mine, and I didn’t know I had been backing away from him until my butt hits the bathroom counter behind me. “It is.”
He smells so damn good. I need to snap out of it. How many women has he charmed? Gretchen seems willing to kill for him, and she’s the only woman I’ve met who knows him. “Penelope was a foster kid, but she’s so much more than her background and a picture.”
My money’s still on him being some kind of weirdo stalker. “She’s a mystery. I don’t like mysteries. I want them solved quickly. That’s why I asked so many questions.”
“And me? You just assume you know everything about me?”
His face creeps even closer, the chill of his words hitting me hard. “You’re everything I hate.”
I’d be shocked if the feeling weren’t so damn mutual.
I hate that she doesn’t back down. That she doesn’t fear me whatsoever. I also know I'm showing my cards way too much around her. I tried to slip in the question about Penelope casually, but it didn’t work and came out random and awkward.
Which is so not me.
This woman throws me off my game, and I don’t like it.
“How about we skip the questions and get back to work?”
She smells way too good, not like expensive designer perfume which I expected. No. Instead she smells sweet, like honey with a hint of something flowery.
And I don’t hate it.
“One thing that needs to be made perfectly clear, Ms. Sterling.” I’m an asshole. I’ve never claimed not to be. I should probably back off, but I don’t. My mouth hovers only inches away from hers. “I’m in charge. I’m calling the shots, and if I want to get to know the people that are working for me, then I will.”
Her small hand rests on my chest, which catches me off guard for a moment, unsure of where she’s going with her touch until she pushes me backward, giving her small body space from my much larger one. “Penelope is off-limits.”
“Are you jealous?” My question quickly causes fire to expel from her eyes in my direction, but she doesn’t intimidate me either. “Is that what this is, Lola? Pissed-off I didn’t try to dig deeper into your life?”
“Of course not.”
But I'm not so sure she’s telling the truth. Her haughty attitude and folded arms tell a different story. And I have to admit, she awakens a part of me that hasn’t felt anything in a long time. “You sure?”
“Positive.” Her teeth are clenched, and it’s clear she’s rattled. The fact that I’ve managed to jar her, when she’s normally so composed, is a thrill I can’t explain.
“Do you want me to ask more about you?”
I can’t. I don’t want to get close to Lola. Plus, I know, without a doubt, she’ll tell me to fuck off. “I want to get back to work.”
“Always about work with you.”
Her pretty eyes roll in her head as she drops her arms to her side. “You’re one to talk.”
I want to ask her so many things, but most
of them revolve around Penelope. “I’m the one trying to find out information.”
“About Penelope. Who is taken.”
“By your brother.”
She’s irritated as she walks out of the bathroom and into the private bedroom area, but as I follow her, she turns around to face me, her finger pointed up at my face. “Listen, I’m not playing your fucked-up bored, little rich boy games. If you have some sort of agenda involving Penelope, you tell me right now.”
“She works for me.”
Maybe I should have been more subtle, should have asked about Lola too. Shit, I'm fucking this entire thing up.
“Not anymore.”
She exits and starts for the main door before I block her from leaving. “We have a contract.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“That doesn’t void the agreement.”
She folds her arms again as she stares up at me. “Why did you choose us?”
She looks vulnerable, and I have to look away from her beautiful face and focus on the window in the suite. “You’ve built a good reputation.”
“We’re still new.”
I shrug my shoulder, my eyes meeting hers. “Maybe I like new.”
“You don’t do anything that isn’t calculated.”
That’s accurate, but how could she know that? “You don’t know me.”
“And, despite your little background check, you don’t know me.” She takes a deep breath, letting her arms drop again and her back straighten. “Penelope isn’t a mystery. She loves my brother with everything she has, and he loves her unconditionally. And he’ll snap your neck just for asking so many questions about his precious P.”
I nearly growl but hold back. I’d like to see the fucker try. I’ve never backed down from a fight. “I’m not interested in her that way.”
She moves away from the door, giving up on leaving. “What else do you need to know to feel comfortable working with us?”
She’s giving me an opening. “How long have you known each other?”
She smiles. “Penelope was nine when my brothers met her and brought her home for dinner.”
Nine. They’ve known each other for a while. I also know from my private investigator that Colt Sterling died at eighteen in an accident, but I'm not sure if he was one of the brothers she’s referring to or not. Although he was Penelope’s age. “And it was love at first sight?”