Welcome to the Cameo Hotel

by K. I. Lynn

  She’d been with the hotel for a decade, starting when she had taken classes for a hospitality degree. Her end goal was to take Phillip, the hotel manager’s, job. I was certain she’d be better at it than he was.

  “Is Miguel sending it in?” she asked after a few minutes.

  “As soon as he gets in.”

  “Good. That means we should have everything by the end of the week.” She handed the order form back to me. “Thanks, Emma.”

  “No problem. Word of warning, don’t go near the fitness center for a little while.”

  That piqued her interest. “Oh?”

  “Mr. Demanding is in there.”

  “Well, now I have to go just to see.” She slipped off her glasses and stood as she attempted to wrangle her hair into something presentable. She pretended to need to walk back to the front with me. “Ay, papi,” she whispered as we slowly passed by the large glass windows. “That’s him?”

  I nodded, engrossed in watching the new angle he was working. “So nice to look at, but that mouth.”

  “Isn’t that what duct tape is for?” she said as we continued down the hall.

  “Oh, my God, now I’m having thoughts of him scowling while . . . you are so bad!” I laughed. I glanced over, an electric shock running through me as I found him staring at me. My lips parted as I drew in a sharp breath, my cheeks warming.

  “Ooh, Mr. Santos is getting some tonight.”

  I understood where she was coming from. Watching Mr. Grayson was an aphrodisiac, and it was turning me on. The way he looked at me didn’t help.

  After making up a fake excuse, Valeria headed back to her office, fanning herself with each step.

  Less than two hours later, I kicked my apartment door closed, pulled my clothes off, and fell into bed to get some sleep before my afternoon class.

  The next day I went in for my normal second shift, happy to have gotten a full night’s sleep, even if it was three in the morning by the time I got to sleep. Sleeping after third shift always made it difficult to get back to normal. At least I’d gotten a good chunk done on my final project.

  There were only three days left on Mr. Grayson’s reservation, and I was going to be so happy when things returned to normal.

  Normally the phone ringing wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but when Shannon backed up and shook her head, I knew who it was.

  “I can’t talk to people like him,” Shannon said, her back against the wall as she stared down at the phone in horror. Angry customers left her flustered, and after the first night, she was scared of even the possibility of a confrontation with him.

  “It’s okay, I’ve got him.” I took a steadying breath, plastered on a smile, and answered the phone. “Good evening, Mr. Grayson,” I said into the receiver.

  “I want a cheeseburger.” No pleasantries, straight to the point.

  Oh, good. Somebody else’s problem. “Let me connect you with room service.”

  “No. I want you to handle it.”

  The vein in my forehead began to throb. “Sir?”

  “They fucked it up last night,” he grumbled. “I want it right, and I want you to make sure it’s right and delivered as soon as it’s done.”

  His demands were going above and beyond my duties, but I’d do anything to keep him happy and not yelling.

  I held my hand over the receiver and closed my eyes as I took a deep breath. “Of course. What would you like?”

  After taking down his order, I left Shannon to man the front while I headed over to the kitchen.

  “Hey, Emma,” Omar, the head chef, called as I entered.

  “Hi, Omar,” I said with a smile.

  He was expertly cutting up some vegetables at a speed I would never attempt unless I wanted a trip to the emergency room. “What brings you down here?”

  “I have a special request from a guest, and I need it made precisely as he wants it.”

  With a quick swipe, the vegetable joined a large stainless steel bowl with some waiting ingredients. “Is this the guest I’ve been hearing about?”

  “His infamous status has reached even back here?”

  He grinned as he wiped his hands off. “This isn’t his first room service order.”

  “Ah, yes, he did mention something about an order.” I used to think I was the only one that took the brunt of his demands, but it became obvious I wasn’t the only one—just the only one face to face.

  “What can I get for you?” he asked.

  “I need a cheeseburger and fries,” I said before diving into the list of specifications. “Cooked medium, not under, not over. One slice of sharp cheddar cheese, three strips of bacon, mayo, ketchup, pickles, white onions not red, and tomato on a toasted cornmeal bun.”

  “Because that’s not specific enough,” he said with a shake of his head as he headed to the walk-in to pull out ingredients.

  “Tell me about it. There’s more.” I glanced down at my paper. “Fries need to be hot and crisp when I take it up. No funny business, please. For my sanity, make it exactly as he requests.”

  “Got it. I’ll let you know when it goes up.”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” I said, halting him as I shook my head. “I have to wait and take it up myself.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, because if it’s not right, I’ll be coming right back down.” I plastered a fake smile on my face while Omar shook his head.

  Omar didn’t pass the order off, and instead, made the entire thing himself.

  “Hopefully that satisfies the king,” he said as he laid the plate down on the cart.

  “Thank you, Omar.”

  “Don’t take no shit from him.”

  The corner of my lip slid up. “From him? Never.”

  “Good girl. Now go on before his fries cool down.”

  With one last wave, I headed to the service elevator and up to his floor. The ride was short without evening activity creating stops. As I pushed the tray down the hall, I prayed that it was exactly as he wanted it. The last thing I needed was more of his mouth.

  After a swift knock the door swung open and, as always, I was stunned by how overwhelming he was. Still in his slacks, vest, and dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the tie and jacket were gone. The sight, along with his presence, sent the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive. It was all overpowering when I was near him.

  Why did the first man to make me feel this way have to have the worst personality?

  “Emma.” He stepped aside and held the door open for me, which seemed a little odd.

  I picked up the tray with some difficulty as I attempted to not spill the drinks, and headed in. “Where would you like it?”

  “The desk is fine.”

  I set the tray down and straightened up, eager to leave. “Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?”

  “Wait,” he said, stopping me from pushing past him and getting the hell away.

  I clasped my hands in front of me and stood watching as he lifted the covers, a low hum of appreciation rumbling as he looked it over. First, he tried out a fry, seemingly pleased with its state, then he picked up the burger.

  The second he bit in, he began to moan. The sound was bordering on erotic and sent a tingle down my spine and heat pooling between my legs.

  What the hell?

  “Perfect,” he said, his voice low and, for the first time, appreciative. “Now this is a good burger.” Another bite, and another moan left me weak. “Good job, Emma. I knew you would get it right.”

  A compliment? After so long, I hadn’t been sure he was capable of such a thing.

  I had to focus on that because I wasn’t sure why I was having such an extreme reaction to him. That moan . . . that moan would do me in if he continued.

  “Thank you, sir. Will that be all?” I needed to get away from him and the magnetism that surrounded him.

  He shook his head as he took yet another bite. “Who made this? Because I need him to make me one every night.”


  “Every night?”

  His eyes went wide for a fraction of a second before he cleared his throat. “I may have a bacon cheeseburger obsession.”

  “If this is your reaction to a cheeseburger, please let me know what else gives you pleasure and I will do everything I can to get it for you.”

  He stared at me, his eyes somehow darker, heavier as he sucked some of the juice from the pad of his thumb. I froze, almost as if I was trapped within the intoxicating vibes he was giving off.

  “There are many things that give me pleasure, Emma.” The gravel tone of his words had my brain short circuiting, especially since our eyes were locked.

  I couldn’t look away, couldn’t think of any response, but instead was stuck in place, hypnotized, feeling my face heat up. “What would those be, sir?” I asked, my voice barely a breathy whisper.

  Another low moan, but this time not from the cheeseburger. “Get out of here.”

  I blinked at him, confused as he sat at the desk, his attention focused on the tray. My dismissal was obvious, but I was still stunned at the sudden shift in his mood. It took a second for that to wear off, and my feet began to move, carrying me away from him.

  When I got back to the lobby, I ran to the restroom to try and cool down. In the mirror, my whole face was pink. He hadn’t touched me, but I was burning for him to. That look, the way he’d licked the juice off his thumb, was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

  The horror lay in realizing I’d never felt that to such a degree with James or anyone else.

  I almost asked myself what I was going to do, but stopped. Mr. Grayson would soon be gone, and things would go back to normal. I would forget all about this feeling and chalk it up to his good looks and the fact he was probably teasing me just because he could.

  “I heard you made him happy last night,” James said from behind me, his mouth close to my ear.

  I turned and glanced around, making sure nobody was around. Not that we were doing anything wrong. Everyone was used to seeing us close, but even so, we were only inches apart.

  It was odd—James was close, but my normal reactions to him were missing. Or maybe they were just dulled. There was little warmth or longing, the butterflies barely flapping their wings. I had thought the other night was a fluke. That I just wasn’t feeling well or something, but again, the lack of reaction was strange, especially considering how I felt ten feet from Mr. Grayson.

  The finish line was in sight, and once I found another job, we wouldn’t be trapped. He knew it and I knew it, but for some reason the idea of being with him didn’t fill me with the same excitement it used to.

  No, I knew now, though it was very hard to admit: the even more unavailable Gavin Grayson had somehow taken over James’s place.

  Still, I smiled up at him. “About time I did something right.”

  He let out a chuckle. “That asshole just doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Being a pain just to be one. I’m sorry you seem to take the brunt of it.”

  “He seems to have taken a liking to beating me down. I wonder if he’s betting with himself when he’ll break me.”

  “Never. Emma Addison is unbreakable.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “No problem.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my neck. “Go out to dinner with me tomorrow.”

  “James . . .”

  “As friends.”

  I shook my head. “You know that’s a lie.”

  He let out a sigh and stepped back. “Yeah. I guess a guy can dream. I just . . . I feel like you’re somehow slipping away from me and I don’t know what to do.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react or what to say. I’d felt the same way for about two weeks, slowly, ever since Gavin Grayson walked into the hotel.

  “There’s a lot of pressure right now,” I finally said, not even sure I believed it.

  He nodded. “That could be. I know you’ve got a lot of stress with school and then your bitch of a landlord raised your rent.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t need that headache of trying to scrounge up an extra two hundred a month, especially since nothing else changed.” The whole rent thing was frustrating and infuriating. “It’s not like she upgraded anything.”

  He shook his head. “Rent is ridiculous.”

  “One entire paycheck now goes just to rent,” I grumbled. “If I didn’t have this job, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “Move in with me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  His lip twitched up into a smirk. “With you? No. Plus, if you didn’t have this job, nobody would care if you lived with me.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I continued on my way out. “Good night.”

  “Same to you.”

  I shook my head and stepped out into the lobby to where Caleb and Jaqueline were, and away from the awkward way I felt after what James had said.

  “How’s today?” I asked.

  Jaqueline smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Pretty easy. There was a big luncheon in the Midas ballroom. Some fiiiine men came through. Mmm!”

  It was pretty slow, but there were people coming in every few minutes to check in, and occasionally there would be a short line of a few guests.

  An hour later, I let Jaqueline take her break.

  “So, what’s with you and James?” Caleb asked once Jaqueline was gone.

  I blinked at him. “What?”

  “He’s super friendly with you. Touchy-feely, nice. Real looker with those blue eyes.”

  “Fine. He likes me.” That wasn’t hard. But if he asked me more . . . my heart seemed to be turning on me, and it scared me.

  “Are you two together?” he asked.

  My mouth dropped open. “Caleb!”

  He threw his hands up. “I’m just asking.”

  “No,” I stressed. “That’s against company policy.”

  “But you want to.”

  My lips formed a thin line. “Maybe one day. For now, it’s flirting.”

  I hoped that put Caleb off the subject, especially since I was having doubts. Why were things changing?

  Valeria’s mention of duct tape kept me up at night with fantasies about Mr. Grayson. Tied to a chair, scowling at me, nostrils flared as I rode him. It was exactly the image I was trying not to think about, but after the cheeseburger incident, I couldn’t stop.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  The night had barely begun when the phone rang. That stupid flutter in my stomach kicked in at the number.

  “Good evening, Mr. Grayson,” I said.

  “There is water all over the bathroom floor,” he said in a low, clearly aggravated tone.

  Water? Floor?

  “Did you hear me, Emma?”

  I blinked, trying to get my brain to function. “I . . . Is there a leak?”

  “I don’t know, but why don’t you get up here with someone from maintenance.” The ire in his tone was very noticeable, probably due to my delayed response.

  “Yes, right, sorry, sir.” Since when did I become a bumbling idiot in front of him? It was probably the surprise of something actually wrong versus some perceived slight. I picked up the phone and called for maintenance to meet me up in his room, and then waited for Caleb to return from his Starbucks run.

  From thirty feet away, Caleb could tell I’d received a call. “What is it today?” he asked as he held out a fresh latte.

  “Thanks,” I said as I took it from him. “A possible actual issue.”

  “Yeah? Good luck.”

  I took a quick sip of my latte before setting it down. “I’ll be back.”

  By the time I made it up to the fourteenth floor, Joe, the maintenance supervisor, was heading down the hall from the service elevator.

  “Hey, Emma,” he said with a smile.

  “Hi.”

  “What do we have?”

  I blew out a breath before reaching out and k
nocking on his door. “We’ll see.”

  The door swung open, and I almost stumbled from the impact of seeing him. Every time it got harder, not easier. Power and strength exuded from him with almost palpable force.

  Unfortunately, so did his sexuality.

  “About time,” he grumbled.

  He held the door as Joe and I walked through, Joe heading straight for the bathroom. I followed behind, my eyes going wide at the water covering the bathroom floor.

  “Whoa.” I stepped back to let Joe find the source and returned to facing Mr. Grayson.

  “Exactly,” he ground out. It was a different level of annoyance than I was used to. He was genuinely irked.

  “I apologize for this inconvenience.”

  “Can’t this hotel do anything right?” he asked as he removed his cuff links, and we heard the sounds of the maintenance man, clinking away in the bathroom.

  “Once again, I apologize—” I began, but was cut off.

  “Enough with your damn apologies. Over two fucking weeks of them, and they don’t fix a fucking thing,” he sneered. “If my company was run the way this hotel is, I wouldn’t have a job. Fucking incompetent idiots.”

  “Please, sir, your language is inappropriate. I am trying to rectify the situation.” I’d had about enough of his mouth. The language he used was inappropriate in my mind, given that I’d been bending over backwards to make him happy and that the issue was truly a fluke. The problem was that nothing seemed to make him happy—with the exception of berating me.

  “There shouldn’t be a situation,” he nearly shouted, glaring at me as he yanked the tie from around his neck.

  I stood my ground, facing him, my spine straightening. “I agree, but unfortunately there is. For the inconvenience, we would like to upgrade your room.”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry . . . no?” The vein on my forehead started to throb, and my ever-present smile faltered. He was going to drive me to homicide at this rate. Maybe that duct tape idea wasn’t so bad.