Page 6 of Room One Hundred and Eleven

The woman assisting me finishes whatever she has to do in the reservation system. She’s explaining the layout of the building—from the bank of elevators at the top of the ramps to the lounge area where I’ll enter Club Sin—and how to access the reserved floors with my shiny new card when someone shouts, “Look out!”

I spin around in time to see the fully loaded bellman’s cart careening down the ramp, picking up speed as it heads straight for me.

The woman at the counter gasps and ducks for shelter behind the desk.

There’s nowhere for me to go and not enough time to evade the runaway trolley.

My vision tunnels on impending disaster. Smooshed before I’ve even gotten to second base, never mind made love. Figures.

I knew it was too good to be true.

So I don’t see my savior coming.

His arms wrap around me as he tackles me, diving to the side, carrying me with him as if we’re in a game of football I didn’t know I was playing.

In mid-air, he’s spinning, positioning himself between me and the oncoming danger.

By the time the out-of-control cart whizzes behind us, only his calf and one foot are left in the path of the heavy battering ram that would have obliterated me otherwise.

His leg takes the brunt of the force from the cart, diverting it off course.

Turning sideways, it topples. Luggage spills around us.

The stranger shelters me as it rains down. He grunts—and in the background another man curses—as the handle of a suitcase clips my savior’s cheek.

Dazed, it takes a few seconds to realize I can’t speak because I got the wind knocked out of me.

Two other men in suits start digging a trench through the wreckage. One of them barks, “Son of a bitch, that was close.”

No kidding. The memory of the breeze rustling my hair as the trolley zipped past sends shivers up my spine.

When we’re they reach us, the older of the two crouches by our sides. “Get up, Aiden. You’re smothering that poor girl.”

Was he? Maybe, but I don’t mind.

The guys help him sit up and lift his weight off me.

Too bad. He was so warm, and he made me feel so safe.

“You okay?” my rescuer asks in a gravelly voice. Is it always that rough or is he shaken up too?

My lungs fill in a whoosh. It takes a few gasps before I can speak again.

By then all three of them are edging in closer, concern spreading across their faces.

“Yes. Thanks,” I murmur as I blink up at him. “Will be in a minute.”

Only then do I realize two things.

First, my savior is handsome as hell.

Second, he’s bleeding.

CHAPTER 3

Carter

Atext vibrates my phone in the pocket of my favorite suit. I take it out and check the screen.

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