by Rosie Praks
The witch must have been on her way to some hot resort. Possibly Hawaii, baking in the sun so she could gain some color in her bloodless skin.
Glancing away from another oncoming crowd in terminal thirty-five, he headed for terminal thirty-six, where his flight would take him to Queenstown.
What perfect timing. He was the first one to enter when the flight attendant called all passengers to board the plane. Finding his seat, he made himself comfortable, stretching his long legs beforehand so as to prevent cramps later on in the flight. Soon after, passengers made their way to their seats. And not soon after that, their flight took off. Darcy was happily relaxing in his seat when he felt his arms and legs cramping up again.
Bastards. It happened all the time whenever he flew. He stretched his legs and arms.
And accidently bumped into the seat in front of him.
He heard a yelp from the passenger seated in front.
“Sorry over there. Just stretching,” he apologized, then did another stretch when the cramps came back. And another yelp was heard. “Sorry again.”
After that smooth stretching and the combination of the soothing flight, Darcy soon fell asleep.
It felt as if not a second had passed when someone poked him in the face. Darcy was so startled he jumped out of his chair.
And bumped his head on the low ceiling.
“Oww.” He rubbed his head.
He groggily peeled his eyes open and saw Isabella, the girl he had a one-night stand with a month or so back. She was the beautiful flight attendant on this flight.
“Isabella.”
“Darcy.” Isabella went to hug his neck. “I knew it was you. But I didn’t want to interrupt you since you were sleeping. Were you tired?”
“Kind of.” He smiled slyly, looking at her beautiful breasts and long blond hair.
“So you’re here in Queenstown.” Isabella playfully stroked his jaw.
“Yeah. For a friend’s wedding,” Darcy replied, feeling a delicious shiver down his spine.
“How long will you be staying?”
“About a week or so.”
“Hey.” Isabella got close and whispered into his ear. “I’ll be getting off work in the next few days. If you’re still in Queenstown, wanna hang out?”
Darcy’s eyes almost bulged out. Another one-night stand? Hell yeah.
“Absolutely. I’ll be staying in the Silverton Hotel. Just ask for me at reception.”
“That’s great.” Isabella ran her fingers along his jawline. Then kissing him softly on the corner of his lips, she whispered again, “Looking forward to hanging out with you all night.”
“Looking forward to hanging out with you too.” He couldn’t help squeezing her butt as she walked away.
Darcy glanced at his surroundings. Looked like he was the only one left to leave. All the seats were vacated.
“Welcome to Queenstown, Darcy.” He yawned again when he went to collect his baggage.
Grabbing a taxi, he was dropped off in the center of town. Bustling tourists were everywhere. The afternoon air was cold for winter.
Darcy was equipped with winter gears, though. A natural at extreme sports, he was looking forward to all the bungee jumping, skydiving, and most of all, skiing on the mountain slopes.
Heading in for a quick lunch and coffee. He huddled into one of the nearest cafés and ordered some quick lunch. He made a phone call to Hunter then, to inform his friend of his arrival. After all, it was Hunter who would be offering him free accommodation. A little gratitude goes a long way.
“Hunter, my man. I’m here.”
“Darcy, look. There’s been a situation.”
Darcy sat up straighter, his brain on full alert. “What situation? Am I not getting my free accommodation? You promised, Hunter, remember?”
Of course he would have to worry. He came to Queenstown with hardly a cent in his pocket. Hunter, after all, had promised him free access to everything. Food, accommodation, and fun. For a poor sod like him, of course, he’d grab whatever opportunity came his way.
“No, you’ll still get your free accommodation. It’s just I won’t make it in until the day after tomorrow. Some problem with Conrad’s outfit. I told Clarice we should go first, but she won’t. Not until Conrad gets his new suit made. So you just have fun until I get there.”
“All right. Thanks for the heads up.”
After further discussion as to where his accommodation might be, Darcy finished his meal quickly, walked to the Silverton Hotel, and checked in.
“Hi,” he said to the smiling orange-haired receptionist, dropping his green bag next to his foot. “I’m checking in.”
“Your name please, sir.”
“Hunter Silverton for Darcy Adams,” he said proudly.
“Ah, Mr. Hunter. We do apologize for not recognizing you. I’m new here. My name is Harley Davidson.”
“Please,” Darcy drawled smoothly as she punched in some information in the computer. “I’m Darcy. Not Hunter.” But the young girl wasn’t listening. She was intently concentrating on her task. And at that moment, too, he had the sudden urge to pee.
“Of all the time in the world, why do you need to pee now, Darcy?” he mumbled to himself, holding it in. Seriously, the last time he’d peed was before he left home. That was more than three hours ago. He usually didn’t last that long. Before he spilled his pants, he ran off to find the loo. When he came back, his bag was already gone.
“Sir. We’ve put them in your room already.”
“Oh. What excellent service,” he said, smiling again, nodding as if he were Hunter for real.
“Would you like to visit your room now? Or make use of the gym, swimming pool, restaurant, or bar?”
Bar! Just hearing that word alone made his mouth salivate.
Free alcohol.
Wait. Could all this really be free?
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat, then flicked his finger for Harley to come closer. When she was within whispering distance, he asked in a hush-hush tone, “Since I’m Hunter, you know, being the proud owner of this whole place and all that,”—he gestured to their surroundings—“do I… um… pay?”
“No, sir.” Harley shook her head. “You don’t pay for anything sir. As the proud owner of this hotel, you’re welcome to make use of everything.”
“Seriously.” He chuckled, joy bursting from the seams of his shirt, then paused, face turning serious again. “You’re seriously not kidding me?”
“No, sir.”
Perfect. Just perfect. Darcy couldn’t help the big cheesy grin on his face this time.
Who would have thought having a wealthy friend could bring so much joy to his dull and boring life?
After hanging out at the bar, some fine dining, then back to the bar again for more drinking, it was already late into the night and Darcy was well and truly drunk. He jumped into the elevator and made his way to his room.
The ultimate en-suite. He couldn’t wait to jump on that king-size bed and wash in that spa. He took out the key card to his room and fumbled, trying to dig the card into its slot.
Opening the door slowly, he was welcomed to hot and stuffy air.
My God. It’s roasting in here. He waved his way around the heat. And why is it so dark?
Somehow Darcy managed to navigate his way into the bedroom. And encountered the most interesting creature on the bed.
There was a woman in his bed. Or more like Hunter’s bed.
Oh my Lord. Darcy didn’t know what to do. He was about to have a nose bleed. Maybe due to the heat or maybe due to seeing the silhouette of that woman on that bed.
Darcy freaked. He didn’t know what to do. He quickly braced himself against the wall and went back out to the living area. Walking toward the balcony where there was some light, he stepped outside and phoned his friend.
It was already two o’clock in the morning, but this was a serious matter. There was a woman in his friend’s suite.
Could this be
Clarice, Hunter’s soon-to-be wife?
Darcy didn’t want to cause any problem between the two. If Clarice was with Hunter, then that meant this woman was a gift from his friend, since he did mention to Hunter he was stressed at work. And what he needed most was a good tumble with a woman.
“Hunter.” He spoke right away when the ringtone stopped. “There’s a woman in your bed.”
“A woman?” A soft, delicate voice spoke through his friend’s phone.
“Um. Who’s this?” Darcy asked because that voice sounded nothing like Hunter’s deep voice.
“Who’s this? What’s this about a woman in Hunter’s bed?” that soft voice asked him again. And then the phone was dropped and he heard that same woman screaming in the background. “Hunter, get up. Have you been seeing someone behind my back? I’m going to strangle you. Just when we’re about to get married, too. I shouldn’t have fallen for your charm. You’re still a Casanova, aren’t you? Seeing women behind my back.”
Oh shit. Darcy cringed and disconnected the call. So it wasn’t Hunter’s partner after all in that bed. Which only meant one thing. Hunter had a surprise for him. The woman in his bed.
Oh, Hunter. Thanks, man.
Smiling with glee, he inched his way back into the bedroom.
Darcy couldn’t quite see his woman clearly since she was covered up with the thick blankets all the way to her head. The only thing exposed was her mass of hair, cascading like a croquembouche dessert.
Darcy surveyed his woman’s body. God, her silhouette against the starlight outside was like an hourglass. The size of that bottom, layered with the blanket, was beautiful and in the right proportion. Any man would have a great time squeezing it. Himself included.
Not wanting to waste precious time, he dived in, pulling the sleeping woman into his arms and sealing her lips with his. Those lips struggled at first, but then they moved against him, and man, did he feel hot all over. He was aroused. And little Johnny downstairs wasn’t so little anymore.
He touched her breast, hips, bum, not forgetting to give them little squeeze on the way up, too. It was beautiful. Just like his prediction. Soft like marshmallow. But what he enjoyed most was her kiss. It was hot, satiny, and wet.
After the many exasperating and exhilarating kisses, he pulled her hair out of her face and said, “Hello, sexy.”
He couldn’t make out her face. It was too dark. Although, in his imagination, she was hot. And just when he was about to kiss her again, the next thing he knew, his woman kicked little Johnny.
Pain shot up that instant. Tears welled in his eyes. He couldn’t endure the pain anymore, and he rolled off her body and crumbled onto the floor, his head dizzy as shit. The only thought running through his head was, I hope Johnny can still produce little Johnnys.
“What the hell?” he hissed in pain when he regained his bearings again.
Suddenly, light flooded the whole room. He could make out the bed he just fell from. Still writhing in intense pain from his groin area, he crawled to the edge of the bed, determination strong in his eyes. He needed to find out who dared knee his little buddy.
With his fingers gripping the lip of the bedframe, Darcy peeked his eyes over the bed. And the look on his face when he saw the woman he’d just kissed and almost made love to was like a man who’d seen a ghost. Except that face he saw was even scarier than a ghost. It was the face of his tyrant boss, Whitney Madigan.”
“Wh-Whitney?”
Chapter 9
“Whitney!”
“Darcy!”
They both screamed at the same time when they saw each other.
“What are you doing here?” they both asked simultaneously.
“I’m here for my friend’s wedding!” they answered in sync again.
Then they blinked and blinked and blinked. Until…
“Ahh!” Whitney recovered first and dropped her face in her palms. Unbelievable. Why was her world so small? “Get out, Darcy. Right now.” She demanded, finger pointing to the door for Darcy to leave.
Although she couldn’t fathom how they’d ended up in the same room, she didn’t want to see Darcy while she was on holiday. Especially when she wasn’t in ‘boss mode.’ So out he must go.
But Darcy wasn’t leaving. He was still gobsmacked at seeing his boss on that bed, long, silky black hair draped over her bare shoulders and eyes the shape of almonds, like one of his many fantasies.
He shook his head clear of that fantasy. A chill ran down his spine. He couldn’t believe himself. He, Darcy the irresistible, almost made love to the witch, his tyrant boss. How humiliating. And little Johnny was already peeking his head out, too.
“Darcy. Are you deaf? I said get out,” Whitney shouted when she saw Darcy still didn’t budge from his spot on the floor.
Of course Darcy wasn’t listening. He was now having an internal battle with himself. He’d been told by Harley this room was his. So what right did his boss have demanding him to leave? This was his holiday after all. He wasn’t at work where she could demand him to go left from right. Right here, he was his own boss. So with that logic guiding him, he tore his butt off the floor, with wobbly legs, and braced himself against his boss’ wrath. Because his answer was a direct no.
Whitney couldn’t believe her ears at Darcy’s response. Although the sound could hardly be louder than a mouse squeaking, the respond was still a clear no. Has Darcy grown a backbone?
“What did you say?” Embers of fury ignited in Whitney’s eyes.
“I sa… sa-said no,” Darcy said again, this time with more power behind his word.
“Are you defying my order now?” Whitney upped the volume of her voice by another notch.
“Na-na…” Oh, stuff it, Darcy. Man up, will you? Darcy squared his shoulders, cleared his throat, and shouted with a stern voice. “I mean no.”
“No?” Whitney asked again, eyes scrutinizing him.
“Yes. No,” Darcy declared again. Wow. That was great. I feel great. Who knew going against your boss’ order could be this exhilarating?
“I’m your boss, Darcy, your superior. You can’t defy my order.” Whitney fumed, her frosty voice knocking Darcy off his bravery.
“But… but… but we’re not at work,” Darcy stuttered, trying his best to sound brave again. But his fingers were now twiddling, which meant he was nervous and now back to his submissive assistant mode. Is there no way I can be brave in front of this woman? “So… so you’re not my boss. Well, not at this moment anyway.”
“Fine. I’m not your boss right now.” Whitney calmed down and saw reason. “But as a man, going into a woman’s private quarters is inappropriate. Which makes you a pervert. So get out, Darcy.” She finished off by yelling at him.
“I will not,” Darcy argued, quickly gaining back his confidence. “Harley told me this was my room, so I have the right to be here.”
“Harley said the same thing to me.” Whitney pounced back.
And then both blinked at each other. The room fell silent, only the clockwork in their brains ticking.
“Wait!” Both chorused at the same time, and realization finally dawned on them.
“You’re going to Clarice’s wedding?” Whitney asked.
“You mean Hunter’s?” Darcy clarified.
“Yes.” Whitney nodded.
“Me, too.” Darcy also nodded. Then he flicked his eyes to his boss, a theory formulating in his head. “Did Harley call you Mrs. Hunter?”
“Yes. Did Harley called you Mr. Hunter?” Whitney asked, coming up with the same conclusion as Darcy.
“Yes.” Darcy nodded, confirming the fact.
And then both ended up nodding in sync again.
“I see where this is going,” Whitney muttered, tapping her chin. Finally, with a determined look, she got up off the bed and walked to the door.
Darcy frowned, watching her back. “Where are you going?”
Whitney turned back to Darcy. “Obviously Harley made a mistake. She assumed we’r
e Hunter and Clarice. That’s why she’s given us their room. So I’m going to tell her the truth. Then you will move out of this room and our little problem will be resolved…”
“Wait! You can’t tell Harley.” Darcy grabbed hold of Whitney’s legs so she couldn’t walk.
“Let go of my leg, Darcy.” Whitney struggled within his hold. “I can’t walk like this.”
“I’m not letting you go.” Darcy wrapped his arms around Whitney’s legs more firmly. “If you tell her, then where am I going to stay?”
“That’s not my problem. Now let go.” Whitney tried peeling Darcy’s hands off, but his fingers were wrapped firmly around her legs. Like barnacles to rocks.
“It is your problem,” Darcy said, looking up at his boss from where he was crouching. And she was glaring fire at him. And now he felt small. But Darcy acted brave. He swallowed and said, “I just can’t, Whitney. Hunter booked this room for me. If you tell Harley, then you might be the one kicked out.”
Whitney paused and thought for a moment on this scenario. Me? Kicked out? Impossible! “I’m the female, Darcy. I’m sure they won’t kick me out. It’s you who will be kicked out.”
“No, Whitney. Please don’t.” Darcy had no more reason to detain her, so all he could do was plead for her to reconsider while holding on to her legs, restricting her from walking away. “I don’t want to pay for another room. I’m poor. Please don’t go.”
“That’s not my problem, Darcy.”
“But—”
“No buts, Darcy. I’m not staying in the same room as you. It’s hard enough seeing you at work. I don’t want to see your face in my private time, too.”
“Don’t want to see my face?” Darcy finally let go of Whitney’s legs, too busy and shocked at Whitney’s declaration to care about restraining her anymore.
Darcy diverted his gaze at Whitney, anger slowly seeping into his face. He couldn’t even utter a word at that moment. Fire was burning behind his eyes. Anger was throbbing in his chest.
That comment was a direct insult to his ego. He was a very handsome man with an irresistible face that women, young and old, couldn’t get enough of. So enough was enough. He couldn’t endure this verbal abuse from his boss any longer. If he didn’t stand up for his own rights now, then he’d always be the doormat in their boss-subordinate relationship.