Page 41 of Demise

“I want to take you somewhere, for the night. Think your guard dogs will allow it?”

A short chuckle escapes Skyla as she shakes her head.

“You act as if you aren’t as protective as the others, like you’re not as bad as them.”

“Oh, I can promise, baby, I’m worse. Much worse. I just do a better job of hiding it.”

She gives me a dry look as she raises an eyebrow.

“You’re more protective than Vincent?”

Well, fuck. Of course not. That guy is goddamn certifiable.

I roll my eyes and press my lips to hers once before I speak.

“Pack warm; snow is coming today. We’ll leave in two hours.”

“Okay,” she smiles, a light of excitement filling her beautiful green eyes.

She scurries off out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I love that she’s excited. I am, too. In a house literally brimming with boyfriends, it’s hard to get some time away, to just be together one-on-one. Normally, I don’t mind, but right now, I need this, we need this.

Three hours later, I’m bobbing and weaving in and out of Boston traffic. Goddamn, the drivers around here are fucking psychotic. Not that Salem is all that better, but it’s a hell of a lot smaller. Anytime I come into the city, it’s a guaranteed headache and a half a dozen close calls.

Skyla doesn’t seem to mind, though. She’s been controlling the radio, not playing one song for longer than thirty seconds before she’s on to the next. I think it would drive anyone else crazy, but I’m happy to sit back and watch her smile and sing horribly off-key.

Finally, we pull up to our destination.

“The Boston Park Plaza,” Skyla reads the hotel’s sign.

I nod and pull up to the valet. He opens my door quickly as I pop the trunk, and the bellhop grabs our bags. The brisk December air is practically bone-chilling as I make myway around the car. I reach for Skyla’s door, nearly getting sideswiped in the process.

Fucking asshole.

She smiles up at me as we round the car, and I hand the valet my keys. The doorman steps to the side, bowing slightly as we step through the automatic revolving door. When we step into the lobby, warmth wraps us up like a hug as a manager jogs over to us with a thousand watt smile.

“Welcome back, Mr. Putnam. We are so pleased to have you here.”

I give him a quick nod and a tight smile.

“Thank you. Is our room ready?” I ask.

“All checked in. We have you in the penthouse suite,” he says as he hands me two keycards.

“Thank you,” I say as I take them, steering Skyla towards the elevators.

At least, I try to. Her eyes are everywhere, bouncing from the Italian restaurant to our right, Strega, over to the marbled floor of the grand lobby. A cozy seating area beside the bar makes you feel instantly at home, and the extravagant lighting throughout gives it that touch of elegance.

I hit the elevator button, and the doors open instantly. We step inside, and she looks over to me with a smile.

“This place is gorgeous. How were you able to already be checked in, though?”

“Perks of being the boss,” I shrug.

“You own this hotel?” she asks with wide eyes.

Glancing at her, I smirk. “I own thousands of hotels, baby. This is one of my favorites, though.”

She blinks at that and shakes her head.

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