“Let them save their energy for the paying customers!” Avery replied with a smile. With one last wave, she disappeared down the back stairs, taking the delivery elevator down to the ground floor.
The lobby was bright and clean and already humming with activity, just the way she liked it. Avery was one of Crosby Street’s top concierges. She’d been working there ever since she finished her degree in tourism. Of course, she’d started out as a part-time receptionist, but her talents had quickly moved her up the ladder. She loved her job. She loved the hotel, with its beautiful rooms, pretty courtyard, and, most importantly, its view. She loved the staff, they all took care of each other and looked out for one another. She even loved their guests – for the most part.
Crosby Street was an upscale boutique hotel right next to the famed Museum of Modern Art so it had its fair share of bossy, whiny, spoiled celebrity guests. But, for the most part, their clientele was lovely. And Avery had always been good at smoothing down any ruffled feathers. She didn’t mind telling a few white lies about someone’s ugly coat and terrible updo if it kept her guests happy.
“Good morning, Avery!” Janice, the woman working the front desk smiled as Avery crossed the lobby. “Is that a new skirt?”
Avery looked down at her sleek black and gray pin-striped pencil skirt. “Yes,” she grinned. “Do you like it?”
“Definitely,” said Janice. “Makes you look amazing. Like sexy librarian taken to the next level.”
Avery giggled. “Thanks, Janice.”
Selena, Avery’s friend and another concierge, appeared out of the back room, her coat over one arm. She’d been working the night shift and was dying to get home. Her glossy blond curls fell in a wave over one shoulder and she raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s a bit short for work, though?” she asked.
Avery frowned, looking back down at her skirt. “Do you think so? I mean, it’s form-fitting, but I thought it was long enough.”
“Well, as long as you’re comfortable, sweetheart. That’s the main thing,” Selena smiled, her baby blue eyes crinkling in the corner. Coming forward, she gave Avery an air kiss on both cheeks. “So good to see you, darling. I’m absolutely dying to go to bed. But let’s have drinks soon, okay? I feel like we haven’t hung out in years.”
“For sure,” said Avery, smiling. “Just let me know when.”
“I’ll check my schedule,” said Selena, squeezing Avery’s arm. “Have a good shift!”
And with that, she swept out of the hotel in a wave of rose-scented perfume, looking more like one of their rich clients than a member of staff.
Discreetly, Janice rolled her eyes. “Your skirt is definitely not too short, Avery,” she said.
Avery worried her lip. “Do you think so? I dunno. Selena’s just so much better with clothes than I am.”
“It’s perfect. You look amazing and totally work appropriate. It’s not your fault you have legs the length of Manhattan, you lucky jerk.”
Avery laughed. “I hope you’re right. I don’t want to make any waves just at the moment.”
Janice rolled her eyes again. “You never make waves, Avery. You’re the opposite of a wave-maker. And don’t worry. When Meghan retires next month, you’re totally going to get the job. It’ll be Avery Montague, Head Concierge then. Who else would they give it to? You’re perfect for it. Everyone knows you’re amazing at your job.”
Avery chuckled. “You’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll give you Fridays off once I’m in charge of scheduling.”
Janice put a hand to her heart. “Whaaaaat? Me? Do that? Never!” The two women grinned at each other and then burst into quiet giggles. There was a group of German businessmen reading the paper in the soft seats of the lobby and Avery and Janice knew better than to disturb them.
But they were still grinning when a smartly-dressed man in his early thirties walked in. Even without the perfectly tailored gray suit, he would have caught anyone’s eye. He was at least an inch or two over six feet, with an athletic build, and thick, dark hair. His skin was tanned and it made his piercing blue eyes all the more striking. Avery bit her lip and tried not to stare.
Behind him came another man, bulkier, with a shaved head, wearing a dark suit and a Bluetooth in one ear. The women at the front desk glanced at each other. It was all that common at Crosby Street, but they had seen enough bodyguards to recognize one when they saw one.
Avery raised her eyebrows, bending over Janice to take a look at that day’s reservations. Silently, Janice tapped one name: Deacon Wolfe. He had booked their two most expensive rooms on the top floor. His name rang a bell, but Avery wasn’t sure where she knew it from. Whoever he was, she could tell from across the lobby that he had money. That bespoke Brioni suit and the dour-looking bodyguard certainly wouldn’t have come cheap.
“Good morning,” Janice smiled. “Welcome to the Crosby Street Hotel. How can I help you today, sir?”
“I’ve got a reservation,” said the man, his chiseled face breaking into a warm smile. “Wolfe. Deacon Wolfe.” His gaze moved from Janice to Avery and Avery felt her stomach do flip flops as his eyes slid quickly down her body. He looked up, meeting her eye. His smile grew fractionally and Avery could feel desire blow through her like an adrenalin shot to the heart. She swallowed.
Janice nodded. “Yes, you’re on the top floor. Excellent choice. Do you have any bags?”
“They’ll be delivered shortly,” said Wolfe.
“Excellent,” said Janice. “We’ll have them brought straight up. This is our concierge, Avery. I’ll let her show you up to your room.”
Deacon nodded, his eyes briefly flicking back to Avery. “Sounds great.”
Janice handed Avery the key cards and Avery finally allowed herself to smile at the handsome man. “If you’ll just follow me,” she said, leading them to the elevator.
Deacon gave her a smile that made her feel lightheaded and nodded. “I’m all yours,” he said.
I wish, thought Avery. But the hotel had very strict policies when it came to fraternization between the staff and the guests. And Avery was a professional. She wasn’t about to run around after some guest, as sexy as he might be. Especially not this close to a promotion.
“On the roof, we have a terrace bar and restaurant, which is where we serve breakfast. Though, if you prefer, they also do a magnificent brunch. Some of the best French toast in the city, you have my personal guarantee.”
“Are you a French toast connoisseur?” Deacon asked, a sparkle in his eye.
Avery chuckled and nodded. “Well, actually, since you asked, yes, I am. I’ve been refining my tastes since I was three years old.”
“A true gourmet,” Deacon laughed. “That’s dedication to your craft.”
“Oh, yes,” Avery smiled, playing along. “I’ve suffered for my passion.”
The elevator dinged and opened onto the top floor.
“So, your rooms are just here at the end of the hall,” Avery said, leading them to the doors and letting them into the luxurious rooms. The tall windows let in the morning light, making the pale decorating look bright and inviting. For just a second, Avery let herself imagine Deacon laying her down on the large white bed. It was a nice dream. “Downstairs we have a 24-hour gym and on the first floor past the lobby, there’s a lovely, cozy drawing room with a fireplace, not that it’s really the season for that. On Sundays, we show films in our private theater. This week is Casablanca, if you’re interested. You’re here until Tuesday, aren’t you?”
“I am,” said Deacon. “And I love Casablanca.”
“Who doesn’t?” Avery smiled. “It’s a classic. Now, if you have any other questions, just give us a call at the front desk. We’re here around the clock.”
“Surely you’re not, though,” Deacon asked.
Avery shook her head and laughed lightly. “I love my job, Mr. Wolfe, but even I need to sleep. I’ll be here until seven tonight, and then you’ll be in the capable hands of Selena
.”
Deacon gave her a slow, seductive half-smile and Avery felt an answering tingle from under her new pinstriped skirt. “Until seven? I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for your help, Avery.”
Avery had to admit that it stroked her ego a little that he’d remembered her name. “My pleasure,” she replied, handing him the key cards. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Oh,” Wolfe replied, his thumb brushing her fingers as he took the cards, “I’m sure I will.”
Avery took the stairs back down to the lobby, hoping the exercise would take her mind off that dizzying half-smile. They had had lots of beautiful people stay in the hotel but it wasn’t often that one affected her so much – or was so obviously as interested in her as she was in him.
Right before going back out to the front desk, Avery slipped into the staff bathroom to make sure her outfit wasn’t somehow betraying her and her burgeoning lust. She looked at herself in the mirror, unnecessarily smoothing down her crisp black top and the front of her skirt, and took a deep breath. The woman in the mirror smiled back at her. She was tall and slender, with a delicate neck and a thin face, whose best feature, in Avery’s opinion, was the large, thick-lashed brown eyes, framed by long, dark eyebrows. Even as a teenager, when she’d anguished over her thin body and ramrod straight chestnut hair, Avery had always loved her eyes.
But, while she had come to love her athletic frame and distinct features, guests tended to prefer Selena’s showy blonde, busty beauty to Avery’s more understated charms. Not that Avery minded. She wasn’t really the type to flirt and bat her eyelashes at the guests. But there’s something about Deacon that made her feel both relaxed and turned on at the same time. Avery blew out her cheeks and left the bathroom. She’d have to watch herself.
“There you are!” Janice smiled. “He certainly took a shine to you, didn’t he?”
Avery fought to keep herself from blushing. Had it been that obvious? “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I think he might be the kind that just likes to flirt.” Which, to be fair, might very well be true.
But Janice wasn’t buying it. “Uh huh,” she said, raising an eloquent eyebrow. “Well, whatever the reason, you could do a heck of a lot worse. You do know who he is, right?”
Avery made a face. “I know his name from somewhere, but, honestly, I have no idea.”
“God, girl, do you literally live under a rock?” Janice shook her head, grinning.
“Maybe a little,” Avery smiled. “Tell me who he is.”
“He’s the son of Howard Wolfe, who owns that huge chain of luxury hotels in Asia.” Janice raised her eyebrows, waiting for the penny to land.
“Oh my God, you mean he’s one of the Wolfes? Like, the Wolfes who are in middle of buying us?” Avery gaped down at the other woman.
“Yep. He’s one of those Wolfes. Plus, he’s only, like, the most eligible bachelor in New York. He’s only thirty and he runs his father’s Hong Kong and Singapore branches. Word is they’re opening a new one in Indonesia next year. He must be in town for the deal.”
“Oh God,” said Avery. “I didn’t put two and two together. I had no idea! How could I be such an idiot?”
Janice shrugged. “It is only 7:30 in the morning. Plus he seems pretty down to earth for a multi-millionaire. He probably appreciated the fact that you didn’t start sucking up to him just because he’s the new owner’s son.”
“On the other hand, it’s more likely that he’s a spoiled brat and is totally offended by the fact that I didn’t do exactly that!” Avery put her head in her hands.
“Nah,” said Janice. “He had the hots for you. I seriously don’t think he minded.”
Avery peeked out from between her fingers. “You really think so?” she asked miserably.
“I really think so,” Janice replied. “Chill, boss. You look like amazing in that skirt. Harness that power.”
Avery let her hands fall. “Oh well, if nothing else, tonight he’ll meet Selena and she’ll give him all the attention he could want. She so much better with men than I am.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Janice replied, “but she certainly has a gift for showing her tits in their faces.”
“Janice!” Avery frowned. “She’s not like that. She’s just good at flirting, that’s all. It’s not her fault she’s drop dead gorgeous.”
Janice looked up at her future boss. “There’s good at flirting, and there’s good at flirting, Avery. And you’re ten times prettier than she is. You just don’t gussy yourself up as much.”
Avery shook her head. “Now you’re just living in a fantasy land.”
Janice laughed. “Suit yourself, Avery. But I bet Deacon Wolfe would agree with me.”
“Stop it!” Avery half-giggled, half-moaned as she lightly slapped Janice with a brochure. “God, I can’t believe I flirted with a Wolfe!”
“You go, girl,” said Janice, dodging the brochure.
Then the front doors opened and an elegant older woman in a Chanel suit and pearls came striding in, followed by a parade of beautiful young men carrying an impossible amount of luggage. Janice and Avery immediately plastered on their most charming smiles and stood at attention. Everybody in the hotel business knew there was nobody so hard to please as a rich woman over sixty.
Chapter 2
Deacon Wolfe pushed away the paperwork he was looking over and checked the sleek, black leather and gold watch on his wrist. He made a face. It was already eight o’clock. He’d missed the foxy little concierge from this morning. Running his hands over his face he thought back to the way her pert bum swished back and forth in her perfectly fitted pencil skirt. All the way up the hall he’d wondered what kind of nylons she was wearing. He knew it was unlikely, but he liked to imagine they were thigh-highs. He could almost imagine rolling the black lace down her long, lean legs.
His cock twitched in his slacks and he shook his head to clear it. Reaching back, he picked up the phone and rang the front desk for room service. A woman’s low, purring voice answered at the first ring.
“Concierge speaking, how may I help you?” the voice asked.
“Hi, I’m in room 714 and I’d like a cortado brought up, please. With a pastry of some sort.”
“We have some lovely freshly made pain au chocolats, if you’d like,” the beautiful voice continued.
“Perfect. One of those, please.” Deacon wondered if the woman on the other end of the voice knew she sounded like a call girl. It was sexy, but too over the top for him. She sounded like she was trying too hard.
“It’ll be right up,” said the voice.
“Thanks,” said Deacon and hung up. For a moment he sat in silence. Then he picked up the phone and called the front desk again. “Actually, sorry, you know what, I’ve changed my mind. Cancel that cortado.”
“Of course, sir,” the husky voice didn’t even sound surprised, just sexy. Deacon was mildly impressed. “Anything else I can get you instead?” Just that sounded like an innuendo and, unbidden, an image of Avery laughing sprang to mind.
“No, thanks. I think what I actually need is a bit of a walk.”
The voice laughed throatily in a way that Deacon was sure gave many men hard-ons immediately. “Well, I’m afraid that I can’t help you with it.”
He smiled. “No, I’m afraid not. Thanks for your help.”
“My pleasure,” was the smoky reply.
Deacon hung up again. Standing quickly, he crossed the room and tugged on his coat.
“Would you like me to come, sir?” Bart, his dour-looking bodyguard asked from the couch, where he was reading a magazine about guns.
Deacon shook his head. “Nah. I’m just going out for a quick walk to clear my head. If I suddenly decided to go on an all-night bender, I’ll text you.”
Bart nodded. “I’ll be ready and waiting.”
“Enjoy your magazine,” Deacon smiled.
“I always do, sir,” Bart replied.
Deacon shook his head, walking quic
kly to the elevators. Bart had subscriptions to have a dozen different gun magazines but Deacon just couldn’t see the appeal. Then again, he supposed that guns were the tools of Bart’s trade. You had to keep up-to-date, after all.
Deacon recognized the owner of the call girl voice without even needing to see her name tag. Behind the front desk, a stunning woman in a tight black linen dress and high, patent leather heels stood sorting mail. Her thick, wavy blonde hair had been done into one long French braid that hung over one shoulder and rested on her beautiful, golden cleavage. She looked like she’d walked right off a California beach and into business clothes.
As he approached, her tawny eyes flicked up from the mail and met his. Her large red lips curled slowly upwards in an appreciate smile. She liked what she saw. Or at least, she wanted him to think that she did. She was very good, Deacon had to give her that. But all her actions, from her sultry smile to the way she stood with one hip cocked to make her ass look better (not that it needed the help) were a bit too pat for his taste. A bit too showy.
Big Bad Billionaires [Volume 1] Page 88