I’m defeated and I know it. It’s getting late. I’m starving and exhausted and have no resources for getting this tire changed.
I sigh, and slam the trunk shut.
“Okay,” I say reluctantly. “Thank you. It’s not too far.”
Grabbing my bag, I lock up and turn to find him holding the passenger door to the Jag open for me.
A stack of papers sits on the seat, and I carefully move them before sliding inside. The rich scent of leather and polish greet me. It’s an intimate space, small enough that Dominic’s presence feels dominating when he gets in.
His cologne mixes with the manly aroma and a little more fight goes out of me. I want to be here with him. I want this close proximity, and God help me, I want his touch.
I hand him the papers and he takes them with a frown, setting them beside the center console.
“So, housekeeping?” He pulls out of the parking garage and merges into traffic.
“Yes.” I’m not sure what to say.
“How is it going?” Dominic looks over at me, his gaze hanging on a little too long considering we’re in downtown traffic. My insides flutter.
“It’s… enlightening.” I smile a bit. “I appreciate the physical work, and learning how to properly care for a room. I had no idea how hard the housekeepers worked.”
“Most interns would be complaining about the job,” he notes.
I shrug. “It’s the point of the program, isn’t it? To learn all aspects of the hotel. It’s important work, even if nobody wants to do it.”
“That’s a great attitude.” Dominic looks over. “You’re right.”
The compliment warms me. I want him to see me as something other than a fuck. Even if his body next to mine makes me acutely aware that a fuck is what I desperately want.
I can’t help looking over, stealing a glance as we make our way through rush-hour traffic. His profile is strong, the stubble running down his throat and making a curve above his Adam’s apple. If I could just open his shirt a little more, there’d be room for my tongue to trace the cords of his neck…
I shift in my seat and my hand ruffles the papers. They edge out of their spot, and I grab them before they can flutter to the ground. I notice a different hotel logo, the Prescott, on the top page before I put them back.
“Tell me what you think of The Rexford, Juliet.”
There’s a sincerity in his voice that catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
Dominic sighs. “Prescott has been very successful in catering to a younger, hipper market and the Rexford board is considering whether or not we should make a few changes to keep up.”
I remember what Shauna said about the Rexford brothers fight over remodeling and upgrading the hotel. I have the same sinking feeling when I think about ripping out all those classic features. I haven’t been inside the Prescott hotel, but I’ve heard about its posh, modern atmosphere catering to hipsters and Gen Xers alike.
“Younger set or not, The Rexford is a landmark. People come here for its reputation and history. Prescott can never compare to that.” I recognize the street coming up. “You can pull in just ahead,” I tell him.
We pull into the alley behind my building and Dominic parks. He’s out of the car before I can unbuckle, opening my door for me and standing close enough that our bodies brush as I get out.
“Well, thank you for the ride… Mr. Rexford.”
The easy expression falls from his face, replaced with a darkness I recognize. It’s the same look he wore when he had me pressed against the doors in his office. Heat pools in my veins. I turn to go before I do something stupid like stay.
“You’re forgetting something.” He grabs my wrist.
“I have everything.”
He steps forward. “You owe me a kiss for the ride. It’s only fair,” he adds with a teasing grin.
“I don’t owe you anything.”
Heat flushes my skin as I watch him take another step closer. Gripping my upper arms, he steps into my space.
“When will you understand that I always get what I want?”
He presses me gently back against the car. He leans down, his lips a fraction from mine. “We’re going to finish what we started the other day. You, coming on my hand.”
Oh boy.
Heat surges through me at his dirty words, and all my earlier resolve crumbles to ash.
He kisses me hard. I can’t resist—I don’t want to. Our kiss turns to a frenzy until he spins me and yanks my hips back against him.
My palms slap against the car. His foot nudges mine farther apart, his hand finding my inner thigh… fingers trailing up and down, up and down. I am so aroused. I glance around, but there’s nobody to see: we’re parked way back in the alley, totally alone in the dark.
He slips his hand into my panties and leans low over me.
“We’re going to get right to the good part, Juliet.” He bends me lower over the car, my ass visible to any passersby. A hard shiver goes through me, but it only makes this hotter.
I want him so much.
Dominic finds my clit with a long, deep stroke that sends pleasure in every direction. I’m wet, soaked, slick beneath his fingers as he begins a steady rhythm. I cry out and turn my face into my arm. Anyone can hear me out here. Anyone could look out their window and see, but I don’t care.
He strokes faster, blinding me with intense sensation. It floods through me, building higher with each caress. Two fingers slide deep inside, thrusting, his palm rubbing against my clit, filling me completely and sending an intense orgasm crashing into me.
Oh my God.
He fists my hair as I throw my head back and cry a soundless scream. He keeps touching, caressing, and the orgasm keeps coming until I lose all ability to stand. I slump against the car, but he’s there, holding my body tight.
Dominic turns me, his lips finding mine as the pleasure ebbs away.
“That’s how you say, ‘thank you,’ Juliet.” He sucks his fingers, the ones that were just pumping inside me, and then kisses me hard again. A quiver of new arousal goes through me as I taste my intimate flavor on his lips.
He finally releases me, looking satisfied. I take a shaky breath, smooth my skirt and try to will strength back into my legs.
He retrieves my bag, hands it to me. “Sweet dreams.”
I feel his gaze on me, following as I exit the alley and head inside the building. I walk slowly up the flight of stairs to our apartment, my head still spinning.
Sweet dreams?
I’ll take a nightmare, as long as he’s in it.
Chapter Eight
A text message wakes me the next morning. It’s from a number I don’t recognize.
Good morning. Your keys are in your mail slot.
I read it five times before the words click with last night’s events. Rushing to my front door, I find my car parked at the curb in front of the building, shiny clean, with four new tires. It’s cleaner than it’s been since it was right off the assembly line, probably.
My keys are in the mail slot, along with a small card from Haye’s Repair shop that holds a hand written note. Tires and maintenance curtesy of Rexford, Inc.
Jesus H. Christ. The man gave me an orgasm and new tires. I can accept one— can’t give back an orgasm, after all—but how do I, in good conscience, accept the other?
Thinking about it, I realize I don’t have a choice, not unless I want to rip them off the car myself. And I’ve already proven, I’m pretty much useless when it comes to changing a tire.
But this doesn’t mean I don’t owe him.
I get ready for work, but the question, “what’s next,” plagues me. I thought I’d have things figured out by now, but I’m not on any more solid ground now than I was three days ago.
But despite my uncertainty, I can’t avoid the truth: I have no regrets. Every encounter with Dom has been mind-blowingly pleasurable, and I can’t ever regret coming like that. He was correct when he said that I’d never h
ad a lover like him. He’s ruined me to common sense, apparently, because all I can think about is another taste.
The interns are whispering when I enter the locker room.
“Did you hear?” Shauna saunters over to me with a coffee cup in her hand. It smells amazing. She offers it, and I take it gratefully.
“I love that you’ve become my coffee bitch.” I take a sip. “Hear what?”
“Edith’s been fired!”
I pause. “What? When?”
Shauna slips into her blazer and buttons it, fluffing her long blonde hair around her shoulders. “Late last night. We’re all meeting at the desk for a quick briefing.”
My mind slips to the conversation Dominic and I had in his car yesterday. Did he figure that Edith was punishing me, too? The thought that he may have fired her over me makes a lump lodge in my throat.
Does that mean he cares?
My mind is still whirling as Shauna and I go to the lobby. It’s quiet this morning, the grand entrance peaceful with its stately beauty washed in new sunlight.
Our manager, Beth, ushers us into a staff room. “These are your new rotations,” she says and passes out a sheet of paper with our revised schedule on it.
Shauna frowns. “Why the change? I thought we had two weeks left.”
Beth shrugs. “It came from higher up.”
I check my schedule. It’s blank.
I panic.
“What do you think this means?” I whisper, showing Shauna. “Are they letting me go?”
She looks confused. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a mix-up? You should ask Beth when we’re done.”
I sit, my fear growing as I listen to the weekly run-down of reminders and tasks. Then we’re dismissed, but I don’t move from my seat.
What if he’s actually firing me? But wouldn’t he have done that earlier? Or had security march me out the door first thing?
“Good morning.”
I jolt at the voice.
Dominic is standing in the doorway, looking commanding in a black suit and blue shirt that sets off the blue of his eyes. He’s shaved and his face is baby-smooth, tempting me to touch.
“How did you sleep?” he asks, a wicked glint in his eye.
I blush. I dreamed of him all night: sexy, forbidden dreams. “Fine,” I say abruptly, getting to my feet. “I should go, I need to talk to Beth about my schedule.”
“No need,” Dominic stops me. “I’ve taken care of it. Do you have another outfit with you?”
I pause, confused. I’m dressed in the maid’s uniform, since I expected to work housekeeping again today. “I have regular clothes in my locker—”
“Excellent. Go change.”
“Why?” I’m still lost, still anxious about the possibility of losing my internship.
Dominic’s expression remains neutral. “When I make a request, Ms. Evans, it is to be followed immediately and without question. Is that clear?”
The authority in his tone makes me stand a little straighter. Controlled and collected, he’s one hundred percent the dominant business man.
I never realized before how much that turned me on.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, with an edge to my voice. “Where should I meet you?”
“Upstairs.”
My mouth drops open, but Dominic smirks. “The offices,” he adds. “You’ll be attending a board meeting with me.”
Cold hands run down my spine. “Board meeting? But I’m just an intern!” Management operations are part of my rotation, eventually, but only on a basic level. Board and director’s meetings are way over my head.
Dominic arches an eyebrow. “You don’t want to observe a management role? I assumed with a quick mind like yours, Ms. Evans, that you aspired to more than answering phone calls and cleaning rooms.”
“I do. But this… It’s not part of the program. I don’t want any favors.” My tone is defensive.
He softens. “This isn’t a favor. Trust me, just stop arguing and go change. Or I can invite one of your classmates…” He looks around, as if he’s about to go find someone else to get a front-row seat in the boardroom.
“No!” I yelp quickly. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
I grab my folder, and move to leave the room. He doesn’t stand aside, and I brush against him as I pass. The heat from his body on mine stays with me as I rush to the locker room to change.
I quickly trade my maid’s uniform for my pencil skirt and blouse, thanking God I arrived looking smart today, and not in jeans like some of the other interns. Whipping out my purse, I dig around for lip gloss and dot a bit on, before letting my hair from its braid and twisting it into a bun at the nape of my neck. It stays—by some miracle—and I rush to get up to the executive offices in time.
Dominic meets me in the conference room and hands me a leather portfolio. Other people are filing in, and I can feel their curious stares.
“This is a department head meeting. Take notes.” He reaches into his breast pocket and procures a pen, hands it to me. The shaft is polished wood with brass fittings. My hand is shaking as I take it.
“Notes?” Ooops, said that out loud. What types of things did one write down at meetings like this?
“Write down whatever you feel to be important.”
He’s testing me. I want to pass. Then I remember.
“Who should I send a check to?” I ask quietly, as the room fills up.
“Pardon?”
“For the tires? Where should I send the check?”
Dom smirks. “Don’t be ridiculous, Juliet. I take care of my own.” He nods to a chair in the corner. “Now, sit quietly and say nothing.”
His own? What does that mean? I move to a lone chair in the far corner of the room, puzzling over his comment. But soon the conference table is full, and Dominic gets to his feet. From here, I have a perfect view of his position at the head of the table. His tall body and broad shoulders make an impressive outline against the whiteboard behind him.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Dominic pours himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. “Shall we get started?”
One of the men begins talking about new tax laws and upgrading policies. I concentrate on what’s being said, picking out what sounds most relevant and writing it down. Dominic listens, giving the man his full attention. I notice how every attendee watches the head of Rexford as if they might miss something if they look away.
They respect him, and that’s something considering Dominic is the youngest man in the room.
“Mr. Yates, do you have a purchase report for us?”
“Yes, sir, I do.” Thin and birdlike, Yates recites purchase orders and the costs of replacing broken or outdated furniture and accessories. I write as quickly as I can while still keeping a sharp focus on the discussion. I find that I’m absorbing and processing the conversation more than actually writing. I try and take more notes, wanting to do what Dominic asked.
Despite everything, I want to impress him.
The meeting continues another forty-five minutes before a man in a nicely-cut suit takes a spot next to Dominic. I recognize him from staff introductions—Peter Baldwin, the head of the public relations department.
“Mr. Rexford, I’m afraid I don’t have good news.”
This catches my attention.
Mr. Baldwin holds out a paper to Dominic and then passes more around the table. I’m dying to know what it says, but one isn’t offered to me.
“It’s no secret that our gross has been down the past nine months. Our global locations are holding strong, but here in Chicago, we’ve seen a loss in revenue by another fifteen percent this quarter.”
Dominic skims the paper in his hand. A muscle twitches in his jaw—his only reaction as he places the paper on the edge of the table.
“This advertisement came out in yesterday’s issue of Elite magazine and I can confirm we’ve lost over a hundred reservations already.”
I scoot to the edge of my seat, thinking if I can
maybe lean in enough, I can nonchalantly get a glimpse at one of the papers. No luck. The closest person to me is still too far away.
Dom catches my eye briefly, then turns to Mr. Baldwin. “Deliver one to Ms. Evans.”
All heads turn my way but it’s Dominic’s cool, steady glare that captures me. He’s radiating with controlled anger. I can only imagine what’s going on in his mind.
I take the paper from Mr. Baldwin. It’s an ad from the Prescott Group.
Summer Special: switch your reservation to Prescott and save big. Free luxury upgrades and more!
The image shows a glamorous woman walking away from a building that could only be the Rexford – and towards a gleaming Prescott property, greeted by valet, staff, and a literal red carpet stretching from a pair of wide-open, etched glass doors.
“I’ll deal with this later,” Dominic says, remaining calm and in control. “That’s all for today.”
The meeting adjourns but I remain in my seat, thinking about the ad. It’s clear this rivalry runs deep, but stealing customers with bribes like this is a low blow, even for the ultra-competitive hotel industry.
I’m still mulling over the move when I hear Dominic’s voice.
“Well? How was your first meeting?”
I look up. Everyone’s gone but him. We’re alone in the room.
“It was… overwhelming,” I admit, collecting my papers. “I took notes, like you wanted, but I didn’t get everything. It was hard trying to keep up. How do you stay on top of everything?”
“I delegate,” Dom answers with a smile. “A good staff is the key to success. When you’re head of a big company like this, it’s important not to get caught up in the small details. I need to be free to focus on the big things.”
“Like the Prescott Group?”
Dom’s face darkens. “This ad is just the latest in a long list of moves against us. Blaine Prescott seems determined to steal all our customers away.”
“You’ll find a way to win them back,” I say confidently. “They might stay with Prescott once, but they’ll come right back to the Rexford.”
“And why’s that?” Dom surveys me.
I feel self-conscious. “Because the Rexford isn’t just a hotel, it’s an experience. One that can’t be replicated by anyone else.”
The Hotel Page 6