Page 5 of Devour

Three

Maeve

I’ve never felt this foolish. I jumped in the car with a complete stranger. Okay – that’s typically how it works with these apps, but I didn’t double check it was the correct car. I’m so flustered that I’m being reckless! This is turning into the vacation of my worst nightmare. Weather delaying my flight, questionable sinus medicine giving me explosive diarrhea, lost luggage, hopping in a car with that odd ball, and then flashing everyone my rear end. Not everyone – no, no, no. Myex-fiancé, Leo, and long-time bully, Trina.

Then I lied! I lied about having a new fiancé. Everyone is going to notice when I don’t show up with a Mr. Deschamps to the wedding.Who is Mr. Nicholas Deschamps?Doesn’t matter.Focus, Maeve. I need a dress andnow a fiancé. I’m not even going to tempt fate by asking what else could go wrong. Once I shower, I’ll be able to think more clearly. This trip is not off to a promising start, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to continue this way.

I hurry to the desk to check in. The lady behind the desk smiles widely, and I offer her a smile in return.

“Checking in?” she asks.

“Yes. Maeve Goodman.” I take my I.D. out of my wallet, along with my credit card, and hand them to her.

She clicks a few times and then her head tilts. Not in the good head tilt way either. My heart plummets. “I’m sorry, Miss Goodman. There’s no reservation. Do you have a confirmation code?”

“Of course.” I swipe my phone and search through my emails. How’d Gram check in if they couldn’t pull up my reservation? I was so distracted I didn’t see where she wandered off to after they helped her out of the car. Tristan and Vincent are going to lose their minds when they find out I hopped in a car with a stranger and lost Gram. I’m panicking for no reason. I made it here alive and Gram is probably playing the slots somewhere.

“Here it is.” I hand her my phone and her lips form a tight straight line. I quickly pull my phone back to read the email to see why she’d make such a face. “What’s wrong? There it is.”

“The dates, ma’am.”

I turn my phone back and read over my reservation. I booked the dates in the wrong month! “I don’t have any words.” I’ve stunned myself. “Wow. Okay, well, I’d like to book a room for tonight, please.” The lady’s only response is to slowly shake her head with that same grim expression. “There’snone?” I ask in disbelief. “This place is huge. How are there no rooms available?”

A deep, familiar voice chimes in. “Miss Maeve Goodman needs a key for the top.”

The receptionist stands straighter and looks at my creepy driver with the utmost respect. “The…” Then she clears her throat and stares at the computer as she clicks. “Yes, sir.”

Something is off. How’d he know about the top and why is she looking at him like a celebrity walked in. He comes to stand next to me and nods. “Maeve.”

The way he just said my name – smooth as velvet. My stomach should not feel tingles. And my skin shouldn’t be so warm. This guy is a whack job.

“Great. Now you know where I’m staying along with my name.”

He chuckles. Of course his laugh is sexy, too. This is how all serial killers get their victims. Charm them enough to where you don’t notice they’re a debauched murderer. He leans closer to me to whisper, “To be fair, you jumped intomycar. I didn’t lure you in with candy. Or other delicious promises.”

Is he flirting? Oh my goodness. Heaven help me that I’m curious as to what he could offer. I have to swallow to keep drool from going down my chin.

“And, Miss Goodman, you told me where you were staying. Remember?”

The car ride. Of course. “You’re still being creepy.”

He gives me a lopsided smile and says, “Stop trying to make me out to be the boogeyman.” I faintly hear him say under his breath, “I’m far worse.”

He walks away with his head held high and the confidence of a man who owns the world. A sinking realization settles within me. I jumped into a stranger’s car who went ahead and gave me a ride. He knew exactly where to go. Spoke to the valet guy very casually. And now came up to the service desk and made a demand. I quickly turn to the lady on the other side of the desk. “Do you know him?”

She looks baffled. “You don’t? He just gave you the top floor, and you don’t even know who he is?”

“Well, I thought he was my driver.”

A full belly laugh escapes her. The lady literally laughs in my face, full on hysteria.It wasn’t that funny.“You thought Mr. Deschamps was yourdriver?”

“I guess I didn’t think it since he actually did drive me here. Wait – did you say the top floor? I need a room. Not a floor.”

She hands me a black key card. “I’ll let you settle that with Mr. Deschamps.”

Oh my God. No, no, no, no.“Did you say Mr. Deschamps? As in Nicholas Deschamps?” Please tell me that’s not what she said. Deschamps is a common name. I know plenty of…No. Actually, I don’t. But that still doesn’t mean…

“Here’s your key card. There’s a private access elevator right over there.”

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