Page 3 of Savage Romance
Long moments ticked by, before he wiggled his fingers in a “give me more gesture”. Relieved by his acceptance and ecstatic to finally be able to talk freely, Zoe leaned forward herself and dissected all the blunders and flaws she’d noticed, concluding with, “These aren’t huge problems and will be easily fixed with some proper management, because since I’m being honest, I can see great potential here. The building is situated at a prime location and the decorators did an excellent job in creating a modern elegance that’s also inviting.”
Equally frustrated and mortified that she’d blurted all that out, Zoe closed her mouth and folded her hands in her lap. Under normal circumstances, she was more diplomatic, but somehow Dennehy evoked a candor in her she didn’t recognize.
When Dennehy suddenly rose, she almost squeaked but managed to stay silent and stood up as well.
“Normally, I would check for references and credentials, but it didn’t do me much good when I hired the last manager. I’ll go with my gut here.” He held out his hand. “Ms. Jones, if you still want it, the job is yours. When can you start?”
“There’s no time like the present. Give me an hour to freshen up and settle in.” She reached out to touch her brother’s killer’s hand and shook it briskly, expecting revulsion. However, when Ben held her hand with both strength and consideration, a tingle of awareness shot up her arm.
Oh, no. No, no, no. Just… don’t!
Chapter Four
Ben sank back in his chair and tried to ignore her twitching ass as she strutted out of his office. Miss Zoe Jones was a compelling package of delicious curves, attitude, and long unruly hair. Uncomfortably hard, because—since the monster in his pants first stirred—his cock hadn’t gone down, he imagined burying his fist in those soft-looking strands and holding her in place as he took her. Ben slammed a heavy metal door on his wayward thoughts and forced himself to open his laptop.
I am not interested in women other than the escorts I hire, and I’m most certainly not interested in starting something with an employee. Talk about unwanted complications!
He cursed for the second time as the “Could Not Sign In” message popped up, and he tried to focus on entering the right code, but the connection between his brain and his fingers seemed broken.
She would look stunning in black ropes.
Damn, she was already messing with his head.
He rose from his chair and paced his office a few times.
Had it been a mistake to hire Miss Jones?
He folded his hands behind his back. His gut didn’t think so. Competent and not afraid to lay it all out before him, she’d impressed him almost as much as she’d charmed him with her cute little freckled nose.
Abruptly, he halted in his tracks. How she looked or how she made him feel was insignificant. In less than an hour, Miss Jones would start as his employee. He didn’t shit where he ate, and he didn’t date women who weren’t professional escorts—ever!
Determined to keep his mind off the annoyingly hot woman, he marched back to his desk and settled in for a few hours of hopefully productive and distracting work.
A little over a week later, Zoe watched with warmth blooming in her chest as Michele at the reception desk handed the new guest the keycard with a professional smile and a confident posture. The young receptionist had come a long way in only a few days, and Zoe was convinced the woman would only continue to grow.
And the change wasn’t just noticeable at the reception desk. Most of the staff were more upbeat and content and it reflected in their work and interactions with the guests.
Zoe wasn’t out of the woods, yet, and still had a lot to accomplish. She had to deal with a nasty event planner, who was spreading rumors about how a total stranger got the job as manager, but before Zoe could address that, she needed more information about the woman and her motives.
She also hadn’t found the time to investigate Mikey’s untimely death yet, but her revenge could wait a little longer until Dennehy trusted her more.
The morale of the cleaning crew was still low and something needing her attention, so that’s what Zoe had planned next.
Checking the time on her phone, Zoe pushed away from the pillar and made her way to the supply room, where Conchita had begun stocking her cart. “Thank you for allowing me to tag along today.”
“De nada.” The older Hispanic woman shrugged one shoulder. “Not a big deal.” Her voice only held a hint of an accent, and her dark brown eyes sparkled with intelligence.
After putting on the embroidered V-neck scrub top and matching pants in a dark magenta color, Zoe inquired, “How many rooms do you usually clean?”
Again, the shoulder lift accompanied Conchita’s answer. “Twenty-five.”
Zoe’s mouth dropped open. The gold standard in the hotel world was fourteen rooms. “You can’t clean twenty-five rooms in eight hours!”
“Si! Not the way I like, but I’ll give it my best shot anyway.” Conchita consulted her schedule. “Only three of them are departing guests, so I probably will be fine today. Fridays and Sundays are the worst.”
As they worked, Zoe learned that Conchita was a widow, mother to five, and grandmother to three. She also decided to check the schedule because twenty-five rooms in an eight-hour shift was just not doable, not even for an efficient and hard worker like Conchita. They headed for the fourth room on their list, and were passing a room with the door ajar, when the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a shocked cry made Zoe halt on the spot.
Conchita’s eyes widened, but before she could react, a young girl wearing a housekeeping uniform rushed past them with a hand to her cheek.
