I turned my head over my shoulder and gave the gorgeous dark-haired guy one last glance before stepping into the hall. I had a feeling that our little wet-floor encounter wasn’t going to be the last one we shared.
I also had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time I got wet around him….
2 Kaden
Peyton Cadwell.
"Yeah, she's amazing."
I hadn't even realized I'd spoken out loud until I heard the dreamy voice next to me. I looked down to see a shorter, fashionably-dressed guy whose name I vaguely remembered as something like Andrew or André, staring off into the distance where Peyton had disappeared.
"You know her or something?" I asked, and the guy shifted his attention to me, eyes filled with adoration. Obviously one of the socialite's fans, then.
"Know her?" he screeched. "I wish. Know of her, more like. I've been following her Instagram for years. She's the absolute queen of this town. I wish I knew her. We'd totally be best friends."
I laughed with him and he gave me a bright smile before sticking out his hand. We'd been introduced briefly when our first shift started, but with so many new names, it was getting hard to keep track of everybody.
"I'm Andreas Whittier," he said proudly, and I shook his hand. He had a good grip, not too strong, but very confident. "And who are you again?"
"My name is Cade," I said, flashing him a smile.
“Jade?” he said, obviously mishearing me as a gaggle of loud tourists bustled past.
“No, Cade. C-A-D-E,” I said. That wasn’t actually the correct spelling of my nickname, let alone my real name, but he wasn’t going to hear the right one from me. Not if I could help it, anyway. Telling him my alleged first name seemed to be enough to take his attention off my identity, though, so I didn't even have to give him my very fake last name.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cade,” he said, returning my smile.
"Pleasure to meet you too, Andreas. Looks like we'll be working together, if everything goes well."
"Definitely." He winked at me. We shifted our attention back to the head of HR, who was telling us we would break for ten minutes and meet up in the corner of the lobby afterwards. There was still orientation to be done and I needed to focus, but I figured a chat with Andreas couldn't hurt. It was always the lower-level employees of the hotel who got the juiciest gossip. And of course, the fact that he seemed so well-versed in all things Peyton couldn't hurt either.
The strawberry blonde beauty was still on my mind. The way her hips swayed when she walked away, the air that followed her like the aroma of a sweet, sexy perfume. Peyton Cadwell didn't carry herself like an heiress, she carried herself like a queen.
And I was into it.
Really fucking into it.
"So tell me more about this Peyton girl," I said to Andreas as our group slowly dispersed. "You want something to drink?"
I figured a little bribery never hurt anybody, and he nodded and asked for a Coke. I paid for two drinks at the hotel bar, and we carried them over to one of the tables in the lobby, settling down in the plush, teal-colored armchairs that surrounded the marble-top table.
"I can't believe you didn't know who she was," Andreas said. "She's like, hotel royalty."
"You don't say." My voice was dripping with sarcasm but it seemed like Andreas was none the wiser.
Of course I knew about Peyton. After all, she was one of the reasons I’d found myself in the lobby of the Mirabella, trying to fish for information from a new bellboy who seemed pretty well informed when it came to Peyton Cadwell and her doings. I could use any connection I could get in the hotel, and for someone so new, Andreas seemed to know an awful lot about the heiress to the Mirabella fortune.
"She's been famous since she was born, basically," Andreas gushed. "I mean, how could she not be? Her mom was an heiress and socialite first, and now that her father is dead, the Mirabella belongs to her and her husband—Peyton’s dad. And Peyton's going to inherit the whole thing once her parents retire. But that's not the only thing. She's like, a major socialite. Fashion week in Milan, Paris, New York. She's on every fashion blog during those weeks. She shops like she's a pro at it, not that she has to. I hear she's signed a partnership with Gucci, which is huge!"
I gave him a blank stare, and Andreas laughed before shaking his head at me.
"Anyway, she's this huge celebrity in her own right. She's had collaborations with several companies and they all sold like hotcakes. And she's also a crazy party animal, always out clubbing and dancing."
"Isn't she like… twenty?" I asked with my eyebrows raised.
Andreas rolled his eyes and downed his Coke. "Don't be such a grandma, Cade," he said, and I laughed at his joke. "How old are you, anyway?"
He looked me over appreciatively, and I grinned at him. I'd made sure to dress down for my first day on the job, but not enough to take away from my looks. I was always surprised by just how far they could get me, even when I was stripped of my last name which usually opened every closed door.
I was wearing a simple black V-neck shirt with light wash denim and some leather brogues—the hotel required closed leather shoes for its employees, even on orientation day. My dark brown hair was slicked back, although it was getting too long and kept escaping the hairstyle I'd forced it into this morning. I'd shaved, so there wasn't a hint of stubble on my chin, although if you gave it a few hours, I knew a dark shadow would appear along my jawline.
"I'm twenty-four," I replied, sipping my Coke leisurely. My eyes wandered over to the hallway Peyton had disappeared into before I muttered to myself, "Old enough to know better than to chase a certain party animal heiress."
"Indeed." Andreas laughed at me. "But we all know how it goes. Sometimes you like something so much, you can't resist it, even though you know you should."
"Exactly," I murmured, just as Andreas got up. I switched my attention back to him, left our glasses and bottles on the table, and followed him to the corner of the room where the rest of the newly-employed team was assembling. The head of HR started explaining something, but my mind was drifting once again.
Our new team was full of stunning girls, including another strawberry blonde who had been making eyes at me all morning, and a gorgeous Latina who seemed shy and blushed every time anyone looked her way. Both of them would've been a better match for me. Really, any girl other than Peyton would've been perfect... But of course, I couldn't get my mind off the long-legged bombshell whom I seemed to annoy with every word I spoke. I loved getting under girls' skin—almost as much as I loved getting on top of them. But Peyton, for some reason, felt different.
She was so much like the girls that I’d taken to bed my whole life.
Pretty, well-off, snobby and entitled.
But unlike all of them, with Peyton it seemed like a facade. Like she was trying to hide an empty life behind a wall of expensive-as-fuck clothes, too-high heels and a blowout that cost more than I'd make in a week in the job I'd just accepted—at least that’s the impression I got during our short encounter. She seemed like many things, a sinfully sexy tease one of them, but mostly she just seemed like a very good actress. Even if the whole wide world bought her rendition of a spoiled, poor little rich girl, I could already see beneath the surface just from the vaguely haunted expression in her eyes. She was so much more than that, and I was going to peel away all those layers until I saw her for who she really was.
Fuck.
I wasn't supposed to think about her, especially not like this. It was all strictly professional. That was the mantra my father had drilled into my head for a week prior to me taking this job, like it was my life motto.
Keep it professional.
Strictly professional.
It was going to be hard as hell to keep my mind straight if Peyton kept waltzing around in those stilettos and curve-hugging dresses of hers. I already had something on my mind, and it was quite the opposite of being prim and proper around my employer's daughter...
I found out I'd be shadowing a bellboy who'd been working for the hotel for a year, and we were introduced a second later. Matthew, a gentleman in his forties, seemed none too impressed with me, so I decided to best him purely out of spite. I hated being underestimated. No matter what my last name was and no matter what I looked like, I gave every job my all, and Matthew would be proved wrong on the first day. He grudgingly waited for me to change, and once I was in my brand new uniform, I followed him back to the lobby.
For the rest of the day, I shadowed Matthew and tried to do everything he did, just a dozen times better. The first time a hotel patron slipped a hundred-dollar bill in my hand, I grinned at Matthew, who was already giving me the stink-eye. And just because I felt extra nice, I handed the bill to him.
"Thank you for teaching me how to do your job," I said pleasantly, and his annoyed expression vanished. I didn't need the money, anyway, and I was grateful to him for showing me the ropes. His face lit up with a smile as he pocketed the money, and for the rest of the day, he was a lot nicer to me. He even indulged in a longer lunchbreak, letting me work alone for twenty minutes. I did him proud, taking on every lesson he'd given me, and splitting my tips with him once he got back.
By lunchtime, Matthew's bad mood was nowhere to be seen, and he slapped me on the back as we met up with HR in the lobby. Everyone in our team seemed exhausted after the long morning, but I still needed more. I wanted to use every second I spent at the Mirabella to give my father what he wanted, and so far, I didn't have everything I needed just yet. I needed more, and I was determined to find out something else—be it about Peyton, the hotel, or her parents, whom I'd come to see as something akin to the evil villains in a bad eighties soap opera.
I stifled a laugh as I wondered whether her mom wore shoulder pads, and returned my focus to what the team was discussing.
Right in the middle of it, my phone rang shrilly and I dug around in my pocket, flashing the head of HR an apologetic look. She looked like she was about ready to bite my head off, but when I saw the number flashing across my screen, I knew I had to risk her wrath and take the call.
"I'm so sorry," I said in a hushed voice, the attention of the whole group now on me. "I really have to take this. It's my, erm... grandmother. She’s sick."
The head's glare softened and she nodded grudgingly and motioned for me to take the call. No one ever questioned the ‘sick grandmother’ ruse. They’d look like a total asshole if they did.
I signaled that I'd be right back and went outside, finally picking up my furiously-ringing phone. "Yes?"
"How’s it going?" my father asked in his gruff voice. "Any updates?"
"Perhaps there’d be more if you let me do my job," I said. "You can't call me every five minutes, Dad. It looks suspicious. And for Christ’s sake, it’s only my first day."
"I know," he replied icily. "I'm just trying to help out, Kaden. You know how difficult this is."
"Difficult?" I said. "I'm the one doing the spying over here, Dad."
"Spying? Do you have to call it that?"
I massaged my temples, already exhausted from our conversation. “Well, you know the saying. If it walks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a spy,” I said. I immediately corrected myself. “I mean, a duck. A spy duck, perhaps.”
Dad snorted. "Fine. Look, I'll let you get back to work. But you know how important this is to me. To your mother."
Of course he had to bring her up, because he knew I had a soft spot when it came to her.
"Fine," I said. "Just let me do what you sent me here to do. I'll report back tonight. I have to get back to work now."
He let me go grudgingly, and I pushed my phone back in my pocket. As I was making my way back inside, the strawberry blonde girl from earlier caught my eye and gave me a big grin. I smiled back politely. Her hair kind of made her look like Peyton, but that was the only similarity I saw between the new girl and the heiress. I vaguely recalled her name as DeeDee, and I could sense she was coming to talk to me, so I just turned my back and focused my attention on the head of HR.
I could tell the girl didn't like this, and from my peripheral vision, I could see her crossing her arms in front of her body. It was too early for me to make an enemy, and I knew I'd have to deal with it later. But for the time being, I had snooping to do and secrets to uncover.
My father was right. I wasn't at the Mirabella to hunt for my next girlfriend. I was there to find out every secret the hotel had to hide and serve them on a silver platter to my parents.
After all, I was Kaden Pierce—the worst possible match for Peyton. My parents were her parents' rivals... and there was no way I'd let myself fall for the enemy's daughter.
No way in hell.
3 Peyton
I shuffled my damp feet on the carpeted floor of Dad’s office, and he narrowed his eyes at me as he spoke into his phone. He’d received a call just as I arrived, so now I was awkwardly standing here waiting while he barked orders into the mouthpiece. Mom was here too, sitting on one of Dad’s chairs, but she hadn’t said anything to me as to why we were here. I guess she didn’t want to be too loud and interrupt Dad.
While I waited, my gaze slid around the office, checking out all the Hotel Excellence awards hanging on the walls. It was my mother’s family who originally owned and started the Mirabella, but it was my father who’d put in the hard work to take it from a fading four star place to a luxurious five star attraction.
My eyes floated left, to a photo which hung on the wall beside the most recent award. It was a family portrait from when I was much younger—Dad, Mom, me, and Allegra. Allegra was my younger sister, and I always thought she was the reason my father was so short with me nowadays.
See, it was hard to compete with a ghost.
Allegra went missing when she was only three, almost four. That was fifteen years ago, and now she was legally presumed dead. I was six at the time of her disappearance, so while I was old enough to have some memories of her, they were fuzzy at best. I remembered the day she was taken, though. Every second of it was still stark and fresh in my mind.
Mom was in hospital recovering from a routine liposuction to help get rid of the belly pooch she hadn’t been able to shake since having her babies. I was in preschool, finger painting with Serena. Dad was working in his office and also taking care of Allegra.
My parents could’ve afforded nannies for us, but they thought it was important to raise us themselves, and so while Mom was away in the hospital, it fell to Dad to work and look after us all on his own. He didn’t mind, though. I remembered him making my lunch for me that morning and attaching a goofy sticky note to my cling-wrapped sandwich, telling me how much fun he was having.
Not long after I got to preschool, my stomach started to feel a bit weird. I begged my teacher to let me go home, and she ended up calling Dad. He was in the middle of a hectic work day with Allegra on his hip, but he agreed to come get me anyway. While he was on his way to the reserved parking spot he had outside the hotel, an unmarked van pulled up.
Two men jumped out and snatched Allegra from Dad’s arms. He fought back and tried to jump in the van, but they managed to slam the big side door on his arm, shattering part of it and making him fall to the asphalt. Then they took off at a hundred miles an hour with Allegra trapped in the van.
We never saw her again.
The police said it was an obvious kidnapping, targeting us because we were a wealthy family, and we did receive a ransom letter. But it went nowhere. The police told us that the kidnappers prob
ably got cold feet and realized how easy it was to get caught, and so they probably killed or dumped Allegra somewhere and abandoned their quest for ransom money. A nationwide search ensued, but nothing came of it. Allegra was gone.
We all blamed ourselves in our own way.
Mom blamed herself for being so vain; getting lipo instead of being there for her daughters, even though she was only gone for a few days.
Dad blamed himself for letting the kidnappers take Allegra, even though he was seriously injured and couldn’t have fought any harder.
And me? I blamed myself for getting sick and making Dad walk to his parking spot with Allegra at that exact time.
The police told us that it wasn’t anyone’s fault, and that the abductors had probably been scoping us out for weeks, figuring out the best time to take one of us. Still, we all felt like we were at fault for one reason or the other.
Since then, my relationship with Dad had cooled. He was never the same after Allegra disappeared, and he never treated me the same, either. I always got the impression he was somehow comparing me to her and wondering how she would’ve turned out. Wondering if she would’ve been better than me and given him less trouble than I had.
Maybe he was right. Maybe Allegra would’ve been a perfect angel. Perhaps she would’ve eventually grown up to be an honor roll student with her heart set on law or med school, and Dad would be much prouder of her than he was of me with my socialite sponsorship job.
Or maybe she would’ve been just like me.
There was no way of knowing now.
“Peyton, sit down.”
Suite Hearts (Hot Hotel Nights Book 1) Page 2