“I love this hotel, even if it is starting to show its age,” I say as we push through the large glass revolving door and into the grand lobby area. I can see her taking it all in, her mouth hanging open a bit as she spins in a circle.
“I have a confession; I’ve never actually never been inside here,” she says with hesitation.
“Well, lucky for you, you have an excellent tour guide.” I lean in a little closer, placing my fingertips against the small of her back.
“The lobby is beautiful in a classical way. The partially tiled floors in Italian marble and carpet are a bit dated, as you can tell. I’m also not the biggest fan of the heavy, floor-to-ceiling drapes or the rich velvet that seems to drown this place.” She nods as I speak, her eyes dancing around the room while she takes photos with her iPad.
“Honestly, the bones of this hotel and lobby are magnificent. The dark, imposing reception area is a tad overwhelming and could be a little intimidating to guests,” she says, dragging her hand along the smooth wood. I watch her dainty fingertips skitter over the desk and nearby pillar, imagining what it would feel like to have her wine-colored nails dragging across my bare chest.
What doesn’t always meet the eye of the observer, but I notice, are the distressed carpets and upholstery. The carpet is worn from foot traffic, and the colors belong in the decade they were picked out in. Other people might not see it, but I have an eye for detail in my hotels, and it is clear Alison is on the same page.
I watch as she works furiously, taking notes on her tablet and using a stylus to sketch something here and there as we walk around the lobby without speaking. She doesn’t need me next to her, but I don’t want to walk away. She is in her element, and it is fascinating to watch.
“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” I lean over her shoulder to see what she is sketching as she chews her bottom lip.
“You know, I work better without someone in my space. Feel free to go about your day; I’ll reach out if I need something, Mr. Crawford,” she says dismissively.
She’s on edge. She gives off tension with every word she says. Just the tone of her voice tells me everything I need to know, but it is fun to watch her get flustered by my questions.
I raise my hands and step away from her, watching her wander off, discovering the nooks and crannies of the hotel for herself. I lean back into a column to watch her; women like her always let part of themselves out for the world to see when they really love something, and it is clear that she loves her job.
She is poking her head behind the curtains to study the architecture of the windows, leaning down to study the patterns in the marble floor and columns up close, and furiously jotting things down with the stylus that never leaves her right hand. There is no way I am going to interrupt her again.
“Observing the interior designer in her natural habitat?”
Nate walks up behind me, startling me out of my focused attention on Alison and back into the real world.
“Sorry, old man, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
“No apologies necessary. I was just lost in thought.” I turn my attention back to Alison, who is sketching over near the other side of the lobby as she stares at the front desk. I try to play off the fact that I’m staring at her, but it’s too late; Nate follows my gaze and lets out a soft whistle, jabbing me in the side.
“What are you two wolves leering at?”
Nate continues to laugh as he turns to face Griffin Carlson, the hotel’s chief of marketing.
“Oh, I see. Let me guess. That’s the new decorator you were supposed to meet with this morning.” Now both men are staring at Alison as I try to downplay the situation.
“Hey, Thor, what brings you down from the heavens to hang with us mere mortals?” Griffin smiles; since the day he was hired almost a decade ago, Nate and I have called Thor. It is an homage to his Norse heritage as well as his looming stature and striking blue eyes and blond hair.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “She’s gorgeous. I hope you noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed. I’m not blind. While I appreciate the ribbing, boys, you know she’s not my type.”
Nate shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pocket, letting me know he knows I am full of shit.
“Tell me, Vince…what about her ‘isn’t your type?’” he says with dramatic air quotes.
I roll my eyes and return my gaze to where Alison is still furiously taking notes.
“I won’t deny that she’s beautiful, Nate, but she’s something else. She is one insanely uptight woman. You know I prefer them dumb and easy. Can’t lie though; the thought of getting her to let that hair down and unbutton a few buttons is very tempting. Oh, and she keeps calling me Mr. Crawford.”
“Ohhh, Mr. Crawford, is it? Should I be calling you Mr. Crawford these days, Vince?” Nate’s loud laugh carries across the lobby, bouncing off the marble pillars.
“Very funny, Nate. Just keep on calling me the same old insulting names you usually do, alright? And let's not forget just how ridiculous you got when you found out Elise was into you.”
Nate nods and slips an arm around my shoulders. “Something tells me you’re going to be in a lot of trouble with this one. I can’t wait to meet her. So why don’t you go ahead and start introducing me before I do it myself and embarrass you?”
I know the bastard means it, too. Any chance Nate gets to make an ass out of me, he jumps at it.
“Gentlemen, if I’m not interrupting? Vincent, I need to speak with you about this year’s internship program when you get a chance. If you could have your executive assistant reach out to mine to schedule something?” Griffin keeps his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he speaks to me.
“Yeah, of course, Grif.” His jaw is set in a firm, clenched line. “Man, you gotta learn to relax. When was the last time you got laid?” Griffin’s back stiffens a little, and he lets out a small exasperated sigh.
“On that note, gentlemen, I’ll be on my way.” He gives a curt nod and makes his way across the lobby.
“Come on. I can’t have you making a fool of yourself in front of her. You’ll have her running off screaming, and then I’ll have to find someone who isn’t half as good looking to get the job done to avoid a repeat performance.” Nate says as we walk away from the column I’ve been leaning against and towards the grand piano at the far end of the lobby where Alison is set up for a moment.
“Excuse me, Miss?” Nate stops when he realizes that I haven’t even told him her name before he marched over here to introduce himself.
“Ryder, it’s Miss Ryder,” I interrupt before she can reply. I see a look of annoyance flash across her face. I like that look; it means I am getting under her skin.
“Alison, let me introduce the CFO of Castille Hotels, Nate Baldwin. Nate, this is Alison Ryder, our new designer sent over by Madeline Dwyer Designs to whip our hotels into shape.” The terse look on her face melts the moment she turns to greet him.
She holds out her hand to Nate, who promptly bows and plants a kiss on the back of it like a scene out of a Victorian romance novel. I can’t help the eye roll that display earns. Nate’s an absolute ham when it comes to women. He only has eyes for Elise, but he can’t stop the comedian that comes out when he’s around any woman, especially someone new.
“You’ll have to forgive my best friend here, Alison. He has no idea how a beautiful woman is meant to be treated. He’s far too used to the riffraff Hollywood types he spends all his time with.” Nate grins over at me before returning his attention to Alison. “I, on the other hand, was not raised by savages.”
He releases Alison’s hand as he stands up, giving me a wink.
I am surprised when she laughs at Nate’s little stunt. I haven’t heard her laugh before. It is intoxicating, but a tinge of jealousy echoes through my body at the way she responds to him. Nate was right; this is going to be trouble.
“Well, I appreciate the gesture. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bal
dwin. I…”
Nate stops her in mid-sentence. “Nate. Call me Nate, and I’m going to insist you call him Vincent or Vince or anything but Mr. Crawford. You’re going to have me looking over my shoulder for his grandfather to see what I’m in trouble for now.”
She laughs again. What is it that Nate has in this whole situation that has escaped me? She’s had her guard up against me since she walked into my office, but Nate has her laughing after a few sentences. I certainly never had an issue getting a woman’s attention before, but this one is a firecracker.
“Alright, Nate.” She emphasizes his name, seeming to struggle with the informality, but at least she is loosening up a little bit. Now to figure out how to get her to loosen up even more.
“You’ll have to forgive Nate; ever since being diagnosed with a micropenis, he has to overcompensate with ridiculous behavior.” I can’t help but get a jab in at his expense.
She looks back over to me, her body instantly going stiff. I can’t figure out if she hates me or what, but that shell is back up the instant her gaze meets mine.
“Well, he deserves a gold medal being best friends with you, Mr. Crawford, I’m sure you’re better for having him around though.”
“Oh, he’s smarter than he looks, Alison, though I’m sure you’ll figure that out sooner or later. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I have some work I have to get done before lunch. Do make him show you the rooms upstairs himself.” He smiles over at her again with that boyish grin. “There isn’t a better tour guide in the building than Vincent. Look forward to seeing you again. Don’t have too much fun.”
I shake my head as Nate heads back to his office.
I turn back to Alison, giving her a smile. I’m determined to crack through that icy exterior.
“So, shall we?” I offer her my arm, which she stares at blankly. “I promise I don’t bite…unless you’re into that,” I say a little lower, and I swear I see a soft blush creep up her neck.
This time, she takes my arm as we make our way to the elevators.
Chapter 7
Alison
This is turning into the longest day that I can remember. It is just now approaching lunchtime, and it feels like it has been ages since I walked into Vincent Crawford’s office. It doesn’t help that there is a war between the two halves of my brain regarding how I feel about him.
“So, the rooms we are going to see are vacant at the moment. I’ll show you one of the standard rooms, an executive suite, and a presidential suite so you can see what you’ll be working with.” I nod once again, clutching my iPad tightly to my chest. I am hearing what he is saying, but my damn body is betraying me again. All I can think about is how perfectly he fills out his tailored suit. The way his eyes stare at me like they’re burning a hole in my own. I squeeze my thighs together as the tip of his tongue darts out to lick his tempting lips.
His eyes catch mine, and I can tell he knows I’ve been staring at his mouth. Shit! So much for subtly, Alison.
“Actually, before we go on this tour, we should grab some lunch,” he says reaching to push the lobby button to take us back down.
“No!” I half-shout in a panic while smacking his hand away from the button. “I—I have a busy schedule later, so I’d prefer to see everything now.”
“I thought you were one hundred percent devoted to me during the duration of this contract,” he says with a smile as he slips his hands in his pockets.
“I—uh yes, I am. I just forgot I had a previously scheduled thing tonight right after work, so I had planned on skipping lunch anyway.” I could hear the stupidity in my excuse as the words tumbled from my mouth.
“Well, I’d hate to disrupt your schedule,” he says with a laugh that tells me he isn’t buying into my bullshit.
I’m usually great at turning myself off to focus on what I prioritize, but right now, that isn’t working at all. I am having to do everything I can to keep my attention on taking notes about the rooms and not on noticing how masculine he smells or how his dark hair keeps falling over his forehead, or the way his long, thick fingers keep pressing against my lower back as we step into the first room.
“The only thing that we won’t be changing are the beds. I handpicked them to ensure the best quality sleep. Trust me; I tested out multiple options before making my decision. I’m nothing if not efficient when it comes to breaking a bed in,” he says, throwing me an exaggerated wink.
And there it was…something that could have gone without saying, but it still makes me a laugh a little. His innuendos are anything but subtle or original. I’m not sure if that makes it pathetic or less aggressive, but it’s a little funny, to say the least.
“Well, would you look at that: she can smile. I was starting to take it personally that only Nate got that pleasure.”
The room is beautiful, with no luxury spared. There is no denying that this place was designed with opulence in mind. In most hotels, the rooms would have been better than average, but this is one of the premier luxury hotel chains in the world. They needed to be excellent in every possible way. The last time they’d been re-done was ten years ago when Vincent had originally purchased the property, and when they were completed, they must have been cutting edge.
Little things were starting to show here as well—wear on the furniture and carpets, fixtures that had lost their shine—and there was Mr. Crawford’s vision of the hotel to take into account.
Chicago is known for its modern architecture: the clean lines and grid patterns that dominated the skyline, making everything sleek and geometric. Steel and brick are at every corner in this part of the city, and the buildings are tall and sweeping, making somebody feel as if they are in a man-made canyon when they walk down the street.
My brain is flooded with a million ideas, starting with the color palette. “While this place was designed with luxury in mind, the intensity of the deep reds and golds are a thing of the past. I see something entirely different for this renovation. Clean lines, muted colors, with an emphasis on black and white, allowing the structure of the building to be the shining star. It will bring to life that sleek, sexy, sophisticated idea you mentioned.”
Keeping my eyes glued to the tablet or the features of the room kept them from taking in Vincent’s structure instead.
I’m lost in thought as he rambles on. I can see a slight shadow of stubble that has started to develop on his jaw. The slight rasp in his otherwise deep, baritone voice.
At the moment, he’s talking about the state the hotel had been in when he’d purchased it. He was only twenty-five at the time, a year younger than I am currently. I can’t imagine getting together the resources to buy an entire building at this age. I am still only renting an apartment, not even capable or ready to purchase a condo, let alone a block-sized building.
“Come here.” I turn around to see him sitting casually on the edge of the bed.
“Why? You look like a creep rubbing the mattress. Stop it.” I can’t help but smile as he strikes a ridiculous pose on the bed, trying to encourage me to come over.
“I just want you to experience the DreamCloud Luxury mattress. Trust me; this will make you never want to leave your bed.”
I walk over slowly, turning around and sitting down on the mattress. He’s right; it feels fantastic. It hugs my hips and cradles me, making me feel like I’m sitting on a cloud.
“It’s nice,” is all I can manage to squeak out. My mouth suddenly feels like the Sahara. Does he realize the effect he’s having on me?
I look over at him; he’s closer than I realized. My eyes drop nervously from his eyes to his mouth and back up again. Is it my imagination, or is he leaning in closer? I swallow hard and snap my attention back to the center of the room, ready to get back up.
“Lay back.” He grabs my iPad from me and stands up before I can protest, pushing against my shoulder. I catch myself on my elbows before I fall completely back. “Just lay back for a minute. I promise, I won’t tell anyone that I got you o
n your back the first day.”
I don’t hide my annoyance as I scramble off the bed and snatch back my tablet. “I’m going to use the restroom; I’ll be right back.”
I lock myself in the restroom and let my back rest against the door as I catch my breath. “Fuck! What the fuck!” I whisper as I turn on the cold water and stick my hands under it. I look at myself in the mirror. Gone is the perfectly polished Alison from this morning; now my eyes are hazy, my lips look full, and my skin is flushed. “Oh my god, I look turned on! Get a hold of yourself!” I say, dramatically pointing a finger at my reflection.
“Alison? Did you say something?” I can hear Vincent asking from outside the door.
“No, no sorry just—coughing. Felt a little parched is all,” I say as I open the door and breeze past him.
“So, shall we head up to the top floor so I can take a look at the penthouse?”
The amused look on his face confuses me. That stupid smirk he keeps throwing at me is infuriating. It makes me feel insecure, like he’s teasing me, but when he opens his mouth to reply, I can feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment at my suggestion.
“Well, if you’re that eager to head up into my apartment here, then by all means.” He leans forward to press the button on the elevator, causing the hand he has against my back to drag a little too low for comfort.
I’m exasperated at the thought of being in his apartment, as well as at the feel of his fingers so close to my ass!
“But…I…we…it’s not necessary, Mr. Crawford. Unless we’re decorating your apartment, too?” I can feel myself blushing. I internally curse my fair skin for betraying me. Being alone with him in an assortment of random hotel rooms was difficult enough. Being alone with him in his apartment is going to be excruciating. As much as my brain is warring with itself, I know that even if presented an opportunity to pounce on him and rip his expensive suit off, I’d never act on it. He is right; I am uptight and rigid, something I am growing to hate about myself.
Claimed By Him: (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 48