by Kiru Taye
“I don’t mind,” Tessa quipped, hands akimbo as she glared at the man. Some of the sureness she’d exuded in Xtasy had returned.
“I do,” Peter said in a firm voice, ending any argument. She might not mind having others poke and prod her, but it wouldn’t happen under his watch. Not in his hotel, damn it. “There’s barely enough material to cover your body in that dress, let alone hide twenty grand in Naira notes. I can see this without having you patted down.” Or stripped. “I believe you didn’t take Mr George’s money.”
“What? You’re going to believe her? Is this how you treat your hotel guests?” Telema straightened, nostrils flaring.
“Our respectable guests know better than to bring call girls here.” Peter leaned his palms flat on top of the polished wood desk, intent on shutting this guy down once and for all.
He had so many reasons to dislike Telema. Arrogance. Hypocrisy. Dishonesty. Of all the faults, he hated liars the most. Couldn’t stand them.
At least Tessa had been truthful as far as he could deduce from their interactions.
Telema glared, huffed and stomped toward the door. “I won’t let this matter drop.”
“Then, I’m sure the press will be interested to know that the son of Chief Godwin George gets his kicks by raping hookers.”
He swivelled, eyes bulging. “I didn’t touch her!”
Peter rolled his shoulders nonchalantly. He hadn’t attained so much success in his business endeavours without shades of ruthlessness “Same way she didn’t steal your money but it didn’t stop you from accusing her falsely, did it?”
Telema deflated, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. I’ll drop the accusation as long as you don’t get the media involved.”
“Fair enough,” Peter said. He’d known playing the parent card would work. Mr George Senior was well known in political circles. A scandal like the one his son courted wouldn’t be good for him.
Telema nodded and opened the door.
“One last thing, Mr George.”
“Yes?”
“Next time you want to book a room for the night, use the hotel down the road. They won’t mind your kind of night-time activities.”
Telema glowered, his face puffed up ready to explode. He stomped out of the room, slamming the door.
Peter and Tessa stood staring at each other in silence, separated by the desk. The air hung heavy between them.
Her mouth fell open, fingers touching the parted lips. She remained frozen, a deer caught in bright headlights, unsure of what to do next. He hadn’t exactly planned what to do either after he’d gotten rid of Telema. Let her go.
“Thank...thank you, sir,” she said in a soft, halting voice that called to a part of him that had lain dormant for so long.
Need tightened his gut, tendrils of warmth spreading across his flesh. Sensations he hadn’t felt in years flared inside him for the second time tonight. He remembered the suppleness of her skin as he’d held her on the dance floor. Damn.
He lowered his body into the chair he’d vacated, hiding his blooming erection as he fought the urge to demolish the space between them and re-establish physical contact. To throw caution to the wind, raid the office safe for cash and toss them at her so he could bend her over this desk and sate his maddening lust.
Perhaps his years of celibacy had been a bad idea. Perhaps this was his body’s way of protesting at his refusal to indulge in the pleasures of a woman’s body for so long. The calm composure he wore as a trademark stood at risk of been shredded by this irresistibly sexy woman.
Chapter Four
Tessa’s heart raced and her breath stalled. The wonder of the moment made her weightless, floating on a sea of amazement.
Peter had helped her. He’d believed her claim that she hadn’t taken Telema’s money. He’d sided with her and shown the other man up for the liar he was.
How was that possible? When had a man ever picked her over another? When had a man ever protected her? This kind of thing just didn’t happen in her life.
After the way Peter had stalked off and abandoned her on the pavement earlier tonight, she’d thought he’d just been going through the motions when he’d ushered then into the privacy of the office. She’d been certain he would’ve instructed the manager of the hotel to call the police.
Cold sweat had drenched her skin at the idea of being locked up, adding to the shame scorching her cheeks and chest because Peter had witnessed her in this dishevelled state.
She’d been unable to meet his gaze when he’d arrived. But, desperation had driven her to ask for his help. She hadn’t known if he would help, especially after she’d seen the way his lips drew tight in seeming disappointment.
Now she stood in the office across from him, free of Telema and his accusation. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She fought the urge to climb the desk so she could reach Peter and give him a hug of gratitude.
The silent, intent expression on his face made her think it wouldn’t be welcome. His potent aura demanded attention without being intimidating.
With his unbuttoned shirt revealing tawny skin and his sleeves rolled up his arms, he seemed less like the disciplined, idealistic man whose disappointment had crushed her and more like the easygoing, sensual man whose body had promised so much pleasure while they’d been in Xtasy nightclub.
Her breathing became shallow. The sound of rushing blood filled her ears.
She couldn’t look away from him, the awareness of him buzzing along her nerve endings. His presence translated into energy, a life-form stretching and undulating in the space around her, permeating her flesh. Desire flared in her belly. Her core clenched.
She closed her eyes briefly and sucked in a deep breath. His scent, clean and fresh, filled her lungs and she was transported back to the dark club, the throbbing music and their entangled bodies on the dance floor, his cocooning hers in warmth.
Her pussy clenched and she suppressed a moan, popping her eyes open.
His dark gaze pierced hers and she swallowed to get her mouth working. She had to say something.
“Thank you, sir,” her voice sounded low, she wasn’t sure if he heard her.
“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, his expression still unreadable.
Jeez, he made her self-conscious. Out of her depth. Men usually didn’t intimidate her. Not when she was dressed to kill. Dressed to seduce. As vampy Tessa, she stood confident, conqueror of men’s libidos. Ruler of her life.
With one look, Peter unravelled her. He’d done something to her tonight. When he’d walked away from her, she’d lost something. Her edge. It was the only way she could explain the debacle with Telema afterwards. On any normal Friday night, she would’ve had Telema eating out of her hands.
Instead, she stood in this office, barefooted and dishevelled, her composure rattled.
Avoiding his gaze and needing to do something to distract from the thoughts in her head, she picked up her bag and started putting the items Peter had taken out and left on the table back into it.
“For helping me even when you didn’t necessarily believe me.” She gave him a surreptitious glance from the corners of her eyes.
His shoulders lifted and fell in a fluid, languid motion. “Getting the police involved wouldn’t have been good for the hotel. I had that to consider.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard, disappointment making her lower her head as she sat back in the chair. There, she’d been thinking he’d done it for her. Instead he’d been trying to save the image of his hotel. It made sense. He didn’t know her, so why should he do anything for her. Still...
“So, you really own this hotel.” She waved her hand to encompass the space, trying to exude coolness. She had to forget how he affected her and just concentrate on the here and now, and what happens next.
“Yes, me and two of my friends.” He picked up a blue biro and started writing on a notepad.
She wondered what he was writing and looked around the office—the manager’s
office—white walls, a lightwood desk with a computer and a mesh metal file tray, blue upholstered armchairs on wooden frames, a grey metal cabinet at the corner and navy carpets.
“You didn’t tell me earlier that you owned the hotel.” She glanced at him again.
He stared up at her briefly with assessing eyes as if trying to figure out why she asked the question and returned to what he was writing. “We didn’t get the chance to talk.”
She shifted in her seat as her cheeks heated. When they’d met, he’d been keen to bring her to the hotel. She’d ruined their evening by revealing her job to him.
What else had she missed out of finding out about him? Would he have kissed her? Would he have given her the pleasure his body had promised on the dance floor? She’d never find out now.
Sighing, she picked up her bag, contents restored. It was best to just leave. “I should head off.”
“No, you can’t.” He didn’t look up, seemingly concentrating on what he was writing.
“Why?” There was no reason for her to be here and he appeared to be busy anyway.
Lifting his head, he dropped the pen and folded his lower arms on the desk. “Did you know you weren’t allowed to come into this hotel with guests to ply your trade?”
Wincing, she fidgeted with the handle of her bag. “Yes, I knew this hotel was out of bounds.”
“Yet, you still came here with your ‘friends’.” He air quoted the word ‘friends’. “Any call girl caught on the premises is handed over to the police and detained. Did you know that?”
Sweat broke on her forehead, her pulse rate speeding up. She seemed to have jumped from frying pan into fire.
“Yes.” She coughed. “I knew that.”
“So you know that I’m entitled to call the police.”
“Y—yes.” She shuffled her bare feet against the rough carpet.
“Good.” He shoved his seat back and stood up. “Follow me.”
Abandoning the notepad, he’d been writing on, he strode past her towards the door.
Her palms turned clammy as she gripped the arms of the chair tight. She didn’t move, unsure of what would happen. Was he going to call the law? Shit. She couldn’t end up in jail.
Still sitting, she turned in his direction. “Peter, I’m sorry for all the inconvenience I caused you and the hotel today. I promise I won’t come here again. Please don’t hand me over to the police.”
He tipped his head forward and leaned against the wall, his back to her for a few seconds. Was he struggling to make a decision? In the little time they’d spent together, his actions showed him to be a man of integrity. A just man.
She’d broken the rules by coming here and deserved to be punished. But getting the law involved would open up a can of worms. She didn’t want to go there. Not tonight. Not ever.
Turning, he met her pleading gaze with his composed one. “I’m not going to call the police...this time. But there’s something you’ll have to do.”
Puffing out a breath, she stood and braced herself. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Just not the police.” Nothing could be as bad as the police.
“Okay.” He breathed out. “Come on then. Put your shoes back on.”
Tentatively, she did as he instructed and followed him out of the office as they headed down the narrow corridor. He walked ahead of her.
Rolling her tongue over her bottom lip, she admired the hug of his trousers over his butt and the powerful strides of his sturdy legs. He really was a striking man, front and back.
At the door to the lobby, he glanced at her as he held the slab open for her to walk through.
He’d caught her ogling his fine ass. Her cheeks heated. She really needed to get her head out of the gutter when it came to Peter. He wasn’t interested in her like that regardless of what had happened in the night club.
“Tell Christopher, I’ll be in my suite if he needs me. I’ve left a note for him in the office,” Peter said to the receptionist.
The area was back to its normal serene atmosphere with low jazz music coming from the bar lounge adjacent. There was no evidence of the earlier scuffle between her and Telema. The doorman only gave her a cursory glance and the receptionist seemed rapt on Peter.
“Yes, Sir,” the man replied. “I’ll let him know. Good night.”
“Thank you, Kefre.” Peter said before turning to Tessa. “This way.”
Sweeping his hand, he ushered her towards the lift.
“Where are we going?” She didn’t believe he would take her to his suite. It didn’t make sense.
“You’ll see.” He pressed the button and they rode up in silence.
Being in an enclosed space with him made her pulse pound fast and the tightness in her chest loosened.
She took a sideways glance at him. He had his back to the wall and was staring straight ahead. He appeared calm. How could he be so composed when her heart was galloping and her palms were sweaty?
Didn’t he feel this connection between them? It was so tangible she could cut it with a knife.
She barely controlled herself. Every fibre in her body wanted to get close to him. Wanted to have his hardness wrapped around her. Thrusting deep inside her.
The ping of the lift made her flinch.
He waited for her to exit the lift before he strode to one of the doors, inserted a key card, opened it and waved her inside.
Her breath caught as she entered the suite. The overhead lamp flicked on bathing the space in muted orange light. She’d never seen a hotel room which looked like this. This wasn’t a room. Telema had a nice room with a double bed and mod cons.
This was a swanky flat—a luxurious apartment. No other way to describe it. It was huge with separate living and sleeping areas as well as the bathroom she could see through the open door. The walls were an off-white shade, the furniture and furnishings in varying shades of brown.
“Is this part of the hotel?” she asked as she gawped at the place. It could’ve been his home from the looks of it.
Smiling, he shut the door and tossed his phone and keys on top of a side table. “Yes. It’s one of the high-end suites. I stay here when I’m in Port Harcourt.”
“It’s amazing,” She gushed but she had no shame about it. She’d been in a few hotels in the city but never seen any rooms like this one.
“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable. This is where you’ll be staying for the night.”
Every muscle in her body froze although her heart raced.
Peter wanted her to stay? Had he changed his mind about having sex with her? Did he want to pay her for the evening?
Her stomach fell, and bile rose in her throat. Why had she thought he stood apart from every other man who wanted to use her body? Worse, why did her chest hurt at the fact that he wasn’t any different from the rest? She’d been stupid to place him on a pedestal just because he’d helped her with Telema.
All men were the same, and Peter was about to prove it.
“Are we...?” She couldn’t bring herself to complete the question.
He leaned against the dining table, crossed his legs at the ankles and folded his arms over his chest.
“If you mean are we going to have sex tonight, Tessa? The answer is no. I didn’t bring you here to pay you to pleasure me. I brought you here because I can’t stand the thought of you going back to that night club and picking up another man who’s going to do God-knows-what to you. I can’t allow that.”
Her mouth dropped open at his declaration. She couldn’t believe what she just heard. She straightened up, placed one hand on her hip, the other gripping her bag, and lifted her chin.
“Hang on a minute. You brought me here so you could control me and prevent me from working? You have no right to do that.”
He uncrossed his arms and took steps towards her, stopping a foot away. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, his jaw clenched, his neck muscles corded.
“You can get one thing straight. You’re in my hotel. My rules
apply. Only a few hours after I met you, you ended up in a room with another man in my hotel. He could’ve raped you. You could’ve been locked up in a police cell.”
She balled her hands into fists and met his frustrated gaze with glaring eyes. She was back in her stilettos, so she was almost head to head with him.
She started doing this job because she didn’t want a man to control her. She’d be damned if she would let Peter or anyone else tell her what she could or couldn’t do.
“Look. I appreciate you helping me out. But this is my body.” She jabbed the right thumb at her heaving cleavage. “I have the right to choose whom I give it out to, when and where. It’s my choice. Neither you nor anyone else can tell me what to do, damn it.”
He leaned forward, his face only inches away from her and lowered his voice. “It might be your right to choose what you do to your body. But for tonight, you are mine to do as I please and I say you’re staying here.”
She snorted, thrust her chest out and cocked her hip to the side. If he thought he could intimidate her, she had a shock in store for him.
“Well, Mr Peter Oranye,” she uttered with as much disdain as she could muster. “If you want the right to tell me what to do tonight, then you better be paying me for it. You know my fee.”
Gasping, he jerked back as if she’d slapped him and his eyes narrowed.
She expected him to kick her out for her pronouncement since he seemed so averse to paying for sex. A jab of disappointment caused her chest tighten.
She clenched her hands and shoved the feeling aside. What the fuck was wrong with her? She couldn’t allow any man to control her no matter how gorgeous and irresistible he happened to be, unless he paid for the privilege. Period.
He didn’t say anything for seconds that stretched into minutes. He didn’t send her out of the suite either.
Feet planted apart, he crossed arms over this chest emphasizing the stretch of fabric across toned muscles. He glared at her, dark eyes cold and flinty.
She raised her chin and returned the glare. Her pulse pounded loudly, she swore he could hear it.