Page 10 of Room Service
I don’t usually hang around at the hotels I’m in the process of merging my company with for long when I visit, so as soon as this is done, I’m out of here. Everything seems to be running perfectly, and the hotel manager, Hayley, has shown that she does indeed run a tight ship. Something she promised me she would continue to do when I become the sole owner of The Blue Diamond chain, like she is guaranteed the job. And speak of the devil…
“Dorien,” she says, her pouty mouth pulling into a smile as her eyes lock with mine.
“Hayley.” I give her a polite nod in greeting. She seems to be good at her job, but that’s as far as it goes, no matter how much she’s liked to try and fucking flirt with me when I’ve visited.
“Everything is running smoothly,” she informs me.
“I can see that,” I state, because why is she stating the obvious? “It’s what you’re paid for.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she mutters, the smile fading a little. “I just wanted to let you know.”
“Noted.” I have no inclination to have a conversation, getting through the evening is bad enough without catering to Hayley’s need for confirmation she’s doing a good job.
“I’ll just…” Her voice fades off as she starts to walk backwards, and then she’s disappearing between the groups of people.
There are many well-known guests in here, as well as potential investors, and of course, the directors. I’ve been in this game long enough to know that they’re only here to try and line their own pockets, and unlike them, I don’t need the money, and I don’t need the status—in fact, I keep my face out of the limelight as much as possible, because I don’t like people and I don’t need the drama that people bring. I’ve never been introduced to the staff here, there has been no reason to be, not at the moment, because until this merger goes through, there is no need for me to know their names or what part they play in the running of the hotel. But when I take ownership of this chain, I’ll be making it my business to know certain staff members… My mind drifts to the maid in my room earlier today, the same one that turned up the other morning and almost took my fucking breath away.
The one I know has a fire inside of her.
The one I want to break.
The one with the dark brown hair that was tied back, had curves that would feel fucking fantastic to run my hands over, and those eyes… like deep pools to the ocean. Simply stunning.
And the one that is walking through the penthouse right fucking now, carrying a tray of champagne and looking like she would rather be anywhere else but here. That makes two of us.
I watch from the side, hidden by the dimness of the lighting.
She’s wearing make-up. She doesn’t need it, but fuck does it make those lips look plumper than they already are. And her hair is down, framing her face perfectly. Don’t even get me started on those long legs and that skirt that shows off the roundness of her arse. Lord, give me strength.
As she nears where I’m standing, I move through the sheer black curtains that cover the open doors behind me and onto the balcony, stepping to the side so I’m hidden in the shadows and away from prying eyes that may venture out here and come over to make meaningless small talk with me.
I have no intention of letting Elise Woods know I’m about to be the owner, not until I’ve had my wicked way with her, anyway.
I take in the night air, breathing deep and wishing this night would just fucking end already. I need to bury myself in a woman and forget about the stress that plagues my life. It’s how I deal with things. Fuckboy, hardly. I’m thirty-nine years old and do what the hell I want, when I want, and I answer to nobody. I keep my private life private. I have one close friend who has been in my life since high school, and also his wife—the family I chose. I fucked my actual family off years ago when they made it clear they only wanted to know me for the money I could pass on to them when they were strapped for cash. I had a mother that didn’t love me as she should, and a father that drank himself to death at the ripe old age of fifty. Stupid fuck. I had no role models. I made myself who I am today. I lived in a shitty neighbourhood and was bullied daily as a kid, having to try and defend myself even though I was scrawny and packed about as much punch as a wet fish. I craved my parents’ acceptance for years, until one day, before my father died, I heard them talking about me. They saw what I was doing in the world of business, and they wanted a piece of my pie. They took money from me when they claimed they were desperate, and like an idiot, I fell for it, because they were my parents and I loved them. But after hearing them talk about me as nothing more than their cash cow, I checked out, and I haven’t spoken to them since—well, my mother, seeing as my father is no longer around.
I went to my father’s funeral, but I only observed from afar. I watched as he was lowered into the ground, my mother stood to the side with a stoic look on her face, and only three other people to grieve the passing of a waster.
So when I say I need to relieve my stress, I mean in the business sense. Sex makes me forget, so if I want to fuck a woman three times in one night, then I will. But I always remain discreet. I only ever fuck them in hotels, none of them getting to come back to my home. And I never give them my name, preferring to eat their pussy to keep them from continually asking.
Some may call me damaged. I call me realistic.
If you don’t let people close, then they can’t fucking hurt you.
And the last thing I would ever do is let a woman in to screw me over. So, I screw them and then move on. One night is all they get, and my arrangement has served me well for the past… well, a long time.
A pair of heels clicking grabs my attention, and I turn my head to see the beauty I’ve been fantasising about since Monday morning walking through the open double doors. She’s looking straight ahead and goes over to the balcony railing, her hands now free of the tray that was carrying the drinks I saw her with just moments ago as she grips onto that railing and takes a deep breath.
I become fucking mesmerised by her actions. The way her head tilts up slightly, the way her hair falls down her back, slight wisps moving in the gentle breeze. The way her hands mould around the railing, and the way her eyes close as she inhales.
A devilish thought occurs to me, but… do I dare?
It seems I do as my feet move quietly of their own accord, careful not to alert her to my presence, and I thank fuck for the curtains covering the open doorway.
I sidle up behind her, until I am inches away from touching my chest to her back. Her scent is like some kind of fucking nectar as I breathe it in, and then I make my move before I frighten the shit out of her, placing my lips next to her ear and saying, “I didn’t expect to see you here, Miss Woods.” And then I quickly realise my mistake as she jumps and shrieks at the same time, her body jolting forwards as my hands land on her hips to steady her—well, that’s the excuse I will use anyway, but the reality is that I just wanted to fucking touch her.
“Calm down, buttercup,” I soothe, my lips returning to her ear and my body pressing lightly against hers.
“You scared me,” she whispers, but she doesn’t sound scared. She sounds… breathless, in a good way.
