Page 31 of Howl You Doin?
I move to step around the man, but he shuffles his large frame, moving quicker than what I would have thought possible in the now creepy hallway. We almost run into each other.
“Sorry,” I mutter, as my face grows hotter and my palms turn clammy.
“Ladies first,” the man says, his arm sweeping the space beside him for me to move through. I can’t place his accent, but the cultured tone is definitely not from anywhere I’ve ever lived. He does kind of look familiar though, but I can’t recall where from.
He’s handsome. Blond hair, pale skin, with steel-gray eyes. He’s just so big that he looks like a freaking linebacker. His suit stinks of “I’m a rich, pompous ass” so I have a funny feeling he’s not a guest, but he’s here for the other Mr. rich, pompous ass.
I keep my head down, not making eye contact, and head to the study, hoping I don’t run into anyone else. I don’t know where my head’s at lately. The whole costume fiasco has been driving me crazy, and now the rumors of me and Connor have me on edge.
Ten minutes later, I’m in need of a good bath and wine, but what else is new when it comes to talking to Connor?
“Miss Whitt, are you listening?” he asks with a frustrated edge to his voice.
I reiterate to myself the many reasons why I need this job. “I’m listening.”
“I need this to work, okay? I need to have a Dracula experience for guests, and I plan on putting on a bigger show at the end of the year for actual Halloween. It’s not something we celebrate here in Romania, so this is just a trial. I need everyone’s help, especially yours.”
I nod and try to sound as convincing as possible. “My only issue is there is just no way to cook, handle all the dinner prep, and not risk injuring myself or starting a fire while in that big dress.”
His nostrils flare. “I would never want to do anything to jeopardize the castle, the staff, or your person, Miss Whitt. However, I’m willing to compromise, but for the dinner to appeal to guests, I need everyone in costume. That includes myself. Not even I’m able to get out of this.”
I didn’t know he was dressing up as well, and that does make me feel a little better. I literally thought he was just doing the whole thing to antagonize me.
Nervousness batters at my ribcage as I will myself to extend a tentative olive branch. “That brings me a measure of relief. An alternate outfit shouldn’t be an issue, as long as I can still do my job.”
He nods. “Good. I will have Frederick bring in the options for the costume. We’ve chosen to go with something a little more masculine that will be easier for you to move in.”
Thatdoessound somewhat better. I’m thankful he’s actually been listening to my complaints.
“Umm,” I hedge, unable to keep my mouth shut.
“What?” He says the word like his last nerve is in the form of elevator buttons and I am smashing them all like an excited toddler.
I fidget in my chair.
“Is the choreography hard?” I ask, praying that it isn’t. I’m far from clumsy, but if the new costume is anything like that heavy-ass thing, I can definitely see me falling, or worse.
“No, it’s nothing like that.” He rubs his temples and pushes his hand through his dark-brown hair, making it stand on end. It’s the most frazzled I’ve ever seen him look. “Just a surprise for the guests. I merely need you to stand there and look pretty.”
I go still at the word pretty, wondering if he’s being a dick, but the words fell from his lips almost absentmindedly. He types away at his laptop, seemingly juggling a lot at once, and I realize then that he looks overworked.
I wince. I can’t imagine what it’s like to run a hotel business on your own without much help, and then to have me constantly up his ass.
“Why are you doing all this when the owner is halfway around the world drinking strawberry daiquiris?” When he lifts his gaze to me and cocks a brow at how I know that, I shrink in my chair. “George showed me a picture of Vlad and Aubrey soaking up the sun on a beach.”
My lips curve recalling how happy and carefree she looked in the photo. I really liked her, and now that she’s no longer here to butt heads with Doyle, I feel like I’m a lone fish in a pool with a shark.
“I ask myself that same question daily,” he deadpans, his focus going back to the screen in front of him. “All you need to know is that I am in charge here until Vlad’s return.”
His eyes flick to mine for the first time since I slid into the room and his fingers go still on the keyboard.
“Don’t worry, boss. You’ll get your money’s worth.” I wink.
His jaw ticks. “Do you always have to have a smart-arse remark?”
Is this guy for real? I’m trying my hardest to be fucking nice here!
“Oh, so there was absolutely no snark about you being in charge? What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, Connor,” I tease, unsure why I am, but I can’t seem to help myself and honestly why should I?
