Page 83 of My Five Daddies

Except what I see in that bedroom makes me realize how stupid it can be to makeassumptions.

I push open the door and stop dead in my tracks. Standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, is one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen in my entirelife.

He must be in his early thirties. His skin is tan and his body is lean but muscular. He has deep blue eyes and perfect, straight teeth. My eyes roam down his cut chest, his ripped abs, and I can’t help but notice the substantial bulge between his legs. My eyes quickly flick up away from that, and I can feel red creeping into mycheeks.

He smirks as soon as he notices me, and doesn’t seem upset at all that I just walked in on him getting changed. He stands up and looks at me, cocking his head to one side. It’s almost like he’s challenging me to stare at his package somemore.

He says something in Polovian, but it’s too fast tofollow.

“Sorry,” I say in German. “My Polovian is verybad.”

He frowns for a second. “English?” heasks.

“Yes,” I say,grateful.

“Can I ask you something?” His English is very good, with only a slight hint of a British accent. He must have learned it from someone in theUK.

“Uh, okay,” Isay.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare at me, or are you going to let me finish gettingchanged?”

I must turn absolutely scarlet, because he bursts outlaughing.

“I’m so sorry!” I say, and I quickly get the hell out ofthere.

I slam the door behind me, feeling like a freaking idiot. I can’t believe I just did that. I was staring at him like a starving dog, and I just totally embarrassedmyself.

But who the hell is that? I didn’t know anybody was going to be staying in this room. I thought this whole wing was just an abandoned ghost town. I’m so, so stupid for not following protocol. I should have knocked before entering, and knocked again on the bedroom door. I should have realized that something wasn’t right as soon as I saw that the door wasshut.

I’m so embarrassed. I want to jump off a freaking cliff. I hurry toward the door, intending to run the heck out of there, but the man appears from the bedroom. He’s wearing a pair of dark jogging sweats, tapered to show off his muscular legs, but still doesn’t have a shirton.

“Hold up,” he says. “Wait asecond.”

I stop, inwardly cringing and kicking myself for not runningfaster.

“What’s your name?” The man steps toward me, a little smile on hisface.

“Hazel,” I say. “And uh, you’re still not wearing ashirt.”

“Hazel,” he says. “Pretty name. You’reAmerican.”

“Yes,” I say. He clearly doesn’t mind that I’m staring at his bare chest, and for good reason. The man is absolutelygorgeous.

“Interesting,” he says. “Not many Americans work here. How’d you get thejob?”

“Uh, Britta Vanderclamp,” I say. “She helpedme.”

“Ah,” he says, smiling. “Vanderclamp. I know thatname.”

“She says her family has been working here for a longtime.”

“Yes, well, that’s not uncommon in a place like this. Relationships matter for more than they should here.” He cocks his head again and smiles, and I can’t help but notice that gesture. It must be something he doesunconsciously.

“I’m so sorry for barging in on you,” I say. “I’ll leave youalone.”

“You don’t know who I am, doyou?”

I hesitate, not sure what to say. “No,” I admit. I hope he’s not some noble lord that gets insulted or something, but I don’t want to lie tohim.

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