by Whitney G.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you look to your right, you’ll see a perfect example of New York’s worst scum,” he said into the mic. “I truly hope that this is the closest you’ll get to seeing a real-life bum in this city. Quick! Everyone check and make sure you still have your wallets before we pull off.”
They roared with laughter, and I felt tears pricking my eyes.
Refusing to let them fall, I started my long trek down Fifth Avenue. I rehearsed my interview speech repeatedly, convincing myself that today really was the day that I was landing the job of my dreams.
When I reached the right building, I realized I had half an hour to spare before my interview. My stomach was growling intensely, and although I promised I would never steal food again, my hunger won out.
I walked to the corner and stood in front of the stunning gold entrance of The Grand Rose Hotel.
“Good morning, Miss.” The two doormen smiled in unison as they opened the doors and let me inside the most luxurious hotel in all of Manhattan.
As always, I stood in the lobby in utter awe for several minutes, taking it all in.
Sparkling white chandeliers hung from the towering ceilings, a massive rose-shaped water fountain stood at the center, and the letter “P” was engraved in gold in the center of the grey marble floor.
The front desk agents were dressed in tailored blue and grey suits as usual, and it took all of five seconds for me to overhear them saying their hotel’s mantra.
“We don’t just sell hotel rooms. We sell a lifestyle.”
From my random and illegal “stays” here, I’d discovered that there were six restaurants, four spas, and a massive pool and lounge on the roof. Yet, the best part of this hotel was what had been saving my life for the past few months—the free breakfast bar.
Unlike the Hampton Inns that I frequented from time to time, this was gourmet breakfast. Chocolate drizzled strawberries with truffle butter bagels, custom floured pancakes with hand-crafted omelets, and a staff that didn’t ask too many questions. (If they ever did, I kept a “lost” hotel key in my back pocket to make sure I could pull off being a guest at any moment necessary.)
The light sound of thunder roaring outside made me realize I needed to hurry up and get out of here.
Stay calm and stay focused ...
My mouth watering, I made my way to the bar and looked over my shoulder at the front desk, making sure no one was watching. When I was convinced all was clear, I picked up a plate and loaded it with fresh cut strawberries and croissants. I smeared a bagel with cinnamon truffle spread and began making a cup of coffee. Before I could walk down the hall and slip out of the side entrance like I always did, an older man in a grey suit stepped in front of me.
“Excuse me, Miss,” he said. “Are you a guest at this hotel?”
Ugh. Caught twice in one day?
“What?” I stalled, looking around for another exit, just in case he tried to block my path. “I’m offended that you would even ask me that.”
“You still haven’t answered that.” He crossed his arms. “Are you a guest at this hotel?”
“Yes. Yes, of course, I am a guest here.”
“Okay, great.” He pulled a small device from his pocket. “Well, would you mind telling me your room number?”
“Um.” I felt my cheeks reddening, felt my fingers sweating as I held onto my breakfast plate. “Why?”
“Reasons.” He tapped his screen. “We seem to be having a recent, severe loss issue when it comes to a certain stranger walking in and stealing from our free breakfast bar, so we want to make sure that everyone is a guest here.”
“Is it really stealing if the breakfast bar is free?” I asked. “I mean, how can you even measure something like that on a day to day basis?”
“Okay.” He put his device away. “I’m calling security.”
The second the word “security” fell from his lips, I dropped my plate and headed toward the doors. Panicking, I pushed my way through the real guests and their designer luggage, but before I could taste fresh air, I collided face-first into another suit.
My body hit the floor with a loud thud, and I felt instant pain in my hands from failing to brace the fall. I stood up quickly—grabbing my bag and my phone.
I made a move for the doors again, but the suit I’d collided with stood in front of me—blocking me. Then he took my goddamn breath away.
Oh. My. GOD.
“I think you’re leaving something.” He picked up two of my condom packs and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll need these for whoever you’re running to. Don’t you think?”
Speechless, I snatched them away and stuffed them into my bag. Then I stood still, transfixed by the man’s stunning green and grey eyes. With his perfectly chiseled jawline and jet-black hair that I was tempted to run my fingers through, he was utter perfection.
As I stared, his lips curved into a slow, sexy smile—making him look like he’d stepped right off the front cover of GQ magazine.
I didn’t have to second guess that the tie he was wearing was a custom label and cost more than I would ever make in a week. His three-piece black suit gave away the fact that he was hiding well-toned muscles underneath, and I immediately recognized the silver, diamond plated watch he was wearing. I’d seen it twice in my life. Once, on the wrist of a Fortune 500 CEO during an interview, and once again on my Pinterest board called “Things I’ll Never Be Able to Afford.”
The suit was eyeing me just as intently as I was eyeing him, and I couldn’t snap out of it if I tried. I felt my nipples hardening beneath my dress, and I was certain that my panties were wet.
Before I could force myself to come to my senses and remember that I needed to be running and not staring, the grey-suited man from earlier rushed over.
“Mr. Parker!” He stepped between us, out of breath. “We weren’t expecting you until ten o’clock, sir. We’re still prepping our reports.”
“I’m sure you are,” he said, still staring at me. “I wanted to be here the second you finished so I can make sure to fire whoever’s really responsible for all those unexplainable losses.”
“Well, you’re looking at the number one cause of all those losses right now, sir.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “The young lady in front of you has been stealing our gourmet breakfast and coffee here for over two months now. She comes in three to four times a week—sometimes more than once a day, pretending to be a guest and she leaves before we can approach her. We’re pretty certain that she has a lost room key she keeps, and that she uses the side entrance from time to time. She waits for a guest to come in and shows her fake key so she can slip in right after them.”
The suit tilted his head to the side, looking slightly amused, but his smile didn’t stay.
“Are you aware that stealing is a crime?” he asked, glaring at me. “That the total you’ve stolen from me now amounts to more than petty theft?”
I nodded. My voice was locked in my throat, and I couldn’t answer fast enough.
“I have the cops on line one, and the security team is on its way down, sir. I’d be glad to give my witness statement regarding this future felon who almost cost us our jobs.”
“Call them off,” the suit said. “Now.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, looking at me. “I think we can talk about this like adults, don’t you think, Miss—” He paused. “What is your name?”
“Ashley Smith.”
“Your real name,” he said, knowing damn well I was lying. “The one you use when you’re not getting caught stealing. If you don’t want to give it to me, I can have you give it to the authorities.”
“Tara.” I relented. “Tara Lauren.”
“Miss Lauren, I’m Preston Parker,” he said. “I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I don’t appreciate people stealing from my hotels.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I take it that you’re like, the manager?”
“No, I’m like, the
owner.” The way he said those words turned me on for some reason. “Let’s talk.” He gestured for me to follow him and led me past the disgruntled grey suit.
He glanced at the food I'd dropped on the floor and made his way to the breakfast bar. He picked up a plate and loaded it with fresh strawberries and croissants. Then he spread truffle butter on a gluten-free bagel before handing the plate to me.
He kept his eyes on me as we walked to the elevators—looking me up and down with every step, and I honestly wasn’t sure if he was leading me on to have me arrested in private.
I avoided his heated gaze as we went up, thankful that there were other guests between us. When we reached the thirtieth floor, the remaining guests stepped off and he held a key against the pad. Then he pressed the button labeled The Preston Suite.
The doors glided open seconds later, revealing a glittering gold floor that was even more stunning than the one downstairs.
“Good morning, Mr. Parker,” a woman behind the desk said. “Good to see you here today.”
“Good morning.” He spoke without looking in her direction, and everyone else on the floor scattered in different directions.
Why do they look so terrified?
“In here, Miss Lauren.” He opened the door to an office that was more than ten times the size of my apartment. As I stepped inside, the lights came on and the window shades slid up, revealing a dreamy and picturesque view of the city.
I bit my tongue to prevent myself from waxing poetic about it, to prevent myself from saying how lucky he must feel.
From up here, the falling rain didn’t seem so dreary. From here, New York still looked as magical as I once thought it was.
“Have a seat,” he said, pulling out a chair for me. He waited for me to sit down before moving behind his desk. Then he leaned back in his chair and stared at me with those stunning green eyes, making me even wetter against my will.
“So, Miss Lauren.” He tapped his fingers against the wood. “Is there any particular reason why you’ve been stealing from me?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you kindly tell me what that ‘maybe’ reason is?”
“I need to be assured that you’re not secretly taping this in hopes of turning me into the authorities right after I confess.”
“If I wanted to call the authorities, I would’ve never invited you up to my office, Miss Lauren.” He kept his eyes on mine. “I would’ve called the precinct across the street, and you would’ve never made it past the corner.”
“Oh, right.” I cleared my throat, and he immediately picked up the pitcher of water on his desk, pouring me a glass.
“Now, where were we?” He waited until I took a few sips. “Oh, yes. You were about to stop stalling and answer my question about why you’ve been stealing from my hotel.”
“I didn’t think I was stealing from you personally,” I said. “I’m just struggling to make it right now, and your hotel happens to be close to where all my latest interviews are. I was planning to pay you back once I got a job.” I pulled out my phone and clicked on my calendar, showing him the screen. “The red x marks are every time I ate breakfast here. I was going to multiply that by fifteen dollars and—”
“The cost of gourmet breakfast for non-guests in my hotels is eighty-five dollars.” He interrupted me.
Silence.
“Um, well ...” I blinked. “I’m probably still going to have to multiply the red x marks by fifteen dollars and send the manager—well, you, an apology-note with a check.”
“What are the blue x marks for?”
The times I’ve stolen the gourmet lunch from here. “Days I finish my workouts.”
“You have the word ‘workout’ already typed in some of these date boxes already.”
“Must be a glitch.” I moved my phone away from him. “I’m serious about paying you back, though. I have a third interview with a company today, and I’m certain I’m going to get it. I feel really confident about that.”
“What company are you interviewing for?” he asked.
“The Russ Stock Exchange.” I gasped as I looked at my phone again. It was now two minutes past my interview time.
“Something wrong, Miss Lauren?”
“Yeah...I’m missing my interview right now. Do you think you could call and tell them why I’m late?”
He gave me a blank stare.
“Right. Well, I um—” I swallowed. “Thank you for not calling the cops on me. I need to go.”
“We’re not done talking.” His voice was firm. “What exactly is your interview for?”
“Was,” I said, doubting they’d give me a chance now. “It was supposed to be for the CEO’s executive assistant.”
He raised his eyebrow. “You have a business degree?”
“Yes, and a law degree as well. Not that they mean anything.”
“Where was your last job?”
“I’m still looking for my first one.”
He stared at me long and hard, not saying a word and I wasn’t sure if he was going to say anything else. And now, for the first time since I’d moved to New York City, I was ready to break down and cry.
“Well, thank you very much for um, hearing me out about this,” I said, standing. “I appreciate it.”
“You should.” He leaned back in his chair. “Can I expect that I won’t see you stealing food from any of my hotels again?”
“Not unless you also own The Grand Alaskan on Fifth Avenue.”
“I do own The Grand Alaskan on Fifth Avenue.”
“Oh.” Shit. “Do you also own The Loft on Wall Street?”
“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re not familiar with all the hotels in my portfolio?”
“No, but I’ll look up all the alternate names for the Marriott and Hilton hotels tonight, and I promise to avoid them accordingly.”
“This is a Parker Hotel, Miss Lauren.” He looked offended. “There are twenty in this city alone, and we bring in more revenue than all the Marriott and Hilton hotels combined.”
“Oh ...”
“Yes,” he said. “Oh.”
“Well, in that case, will it really bother you if I don’t pay you back then? What if I just send you a proper apology without the check?”
He looked as if he was holding back a laugh, but he pressed his lips into a line instead. “Only if you agree to make this the last day you steal from any of my hotels. Next time, I’ll have you locked up personally.”
“I agree to stop.”
“Good. You can also keep your apology note, seeing as though I don’t think you’re really sorry about anything.”
“I’m sorry I was caught.”
That slow, sexy smile spread across his face again, and I felt my heart begin to race.
I couldn’t stop staring at this man if I tried, and I knew right then and there that his face was going to be featured in all of my fantasies for a very long time.
“Mr. Parker?” A voice came over the intercom, shattering our stare-fest.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Mr. Tanner wants to know how much longer your breakfast meeting is going to be.”
“I’ll be finished in five minutes.” He stood to his feet.
“It was nice meeting you,” I said, extending my hand.
“Likewise, Miss Lauren. I’ve never met a criminal this up close and personal before.” He shook my hand, and I immediately felt warm tingles running up and down my spine.
When he finally let my hand go, he opened the door and gestured for me to step out. Employees scattered once again, as if their lives depended on it.
“What specialty did you study in business school?” he asked, walking me to the elevator.
“I had three,” I said. “Accounting & Taxes, Public Relations, and Project Development.”
“How impressive.”
“Clearly not impressive enough for most companies in this city.” I stepped onto the elevator, expecting him to go back to his office, bu
t he stepped on with me. He hit ‘H’ instead of lobby and stepped closer to me.
“I’m currently hiring here,” he said. “And while I don’t normally consider thieves as hire-worthy, something tells me that I should make an exception in your case.”
“Well, thank you ...” I couldn’t think straight with him this close to me. “Do you mind me asking how much your housekeepers make an hour?”
“This wouldn’t be for housekeeping, Miss Lauren.” He closed the gap between us. “I need an executive assistant—someone who can work under me with ease, and handle the length of the work involved.”
“You mean the depth of the work involved?”
“That as well,” he said. “I prefer someone with hotel experience, but seeing as though most of the people I’ve hired in the past tend to quit early, I think it’s time I go in a different direction.”
“Why exactly did your few last assistants quit?” I asked, curious.
“I guess they didn’t have the stamina to keep up with me.” He smiled.
The elevator stalled on level G before slowly descending again, and I tried not to focus on the way the word ‘stamina’ rolled off his lips.
“Nonetheless, if you actually do have law and business degrees, I’d be more than willing to hire you as my next executive assistant.”
“Without an interview?”
“We just completed the interview.”
The elevator doors sprung open on ‘H’, revealing another luxurious space. All-white walls, shimmering chandeliers, and sleek grey furniture.
Mr. Parker remained on the cart, and motioned for me to step off.
Obliging, I looked back at him—still utterly confused.
“So, should I fill out an online application and wait for you to verify that I do have those degrees?”
“No, Human Resources will do that for me in a few minutes.” He pointed down the hall. “If that checks out, you’re hired.”
“What?” I felt my eyes widening.
“I didn’t stutter. Human Resources is to the left. You can tell them that you’re here for position EA-122 and they’ll handle the rest.”
“Thank you, but—”
“But?” He crossed his arms.