Page 201 of Wicked Fantasies

“You’ll stay with me,” he stated, immediately warming up to the idea of spending more time with this refreshingly pleasant woman.

“Oh, now hang on a minute,” she said throwing her hands up, “I appreciate the drink, but there’s no way--”

He didn’t let her finish her protests. “Hear me out,” he said quickly. “My company owns the penthouse of this hotel. It’s a two bedroom suite. You can have the other room for tonight. It even has its own bathroom. You can lock the door and pretend like it’s your own hotel room. There is simply no way I’m going to let you sleep on the side of a busy road in the middle of a storm.”

“There isn’t much traffic out there now with all the rain,” she replied, her argument weak at best.

“I’m serious. You’ve had a hell of a day and an unbelievably long string of bad luck. Why not give yourself a break?

“With my luck such as it is,” she added, “I’d probably get rear-ended by a tractor-trailer.”

“Exactly,” he answered. “You have to admit my plan is better than yours and a hell of a lot safer.”

“That remains to be seen,” she murmured, as Rob considered the fact that she was seriously debating turning him down. He’d never had to beg a woman to share a room with him. Hell, most nights he was the one having hotel keys thrust at him. After all, he was Rob Madison, owner of this and a string of other luxury hotels all over the world. He had topped Fortune’s list of most eligible billionaires the last three years running. He watched as she chewed on her lower lip, clearly nervous about his proposition. He supposed from her perspective he was a stranger and she would be consenting to sharing a hotel suite with him.

“The bedroom door locks?” she asked again, before realizing the insult. “I mean, I just--”

“It locks,” he answered with a friendly grin. “If it makes you feel any better, you can ask Pierre to call every hour to check and make sure I haven’t ravished you yet.”

Rising slowly, she nodded her agreement, saying, “Well, okay, but just for tonight.”

Incredibly pleased with her response, he reached for her hand and she let him pull her forward a few feet before he suddenly stopping.

“You know,” he said, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Meg Williams,” she replied.

“Short for Megan?” he asked.

Crinkling her nose in an adorable fashion, she said, “No, actually it’s short for Margaret, but don’t you dare call me that.”

“Family name, Margaret?” he teased.

“My mother’s favorite book wasGone with the Windand for some unknown reason she selected my name in honor of Margaret Mitchell, the author.”

“And I’m assuming from your tone that wouldn’t have been your choice?” Rob asked.

“For Pete’s sake! Of all the names associated with that book, she lands on Margaret? What’s wrong with Melanie or Katie Scarlett, even?” Meg asked with a laugh. “Of course, it could have been worse, I suppose.”

“Oh, how so?” he asked, intrigued.

“If I had been a boy, she was going to name me Mitchell.”

Laughing, Rob took her hand again leading her to the elevator before she pulled him up short.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked with a grin.

Looking around, Rob shrugged, wondering what he could have forgotten.

“Your name?” she asked.

“Ah, Rob,” he replied, pausing for only a moment before adding, “Mason. Rob Mason.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught Pierre’s startled glance, but he ignored it and the guilt associated with his little white lie.

Offering her hand in introduction, she added, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rob Mason.”

Chapter Three

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