Page 90 of The Bossy One

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Once we arrived at the hotel, we split up for the day. Catie took a nap, and Declan met up with a British billionaire he knew named Grayson Frost. Apparently, the man lived in New York and was focused on expanding his business into the tech world. I couldn’t quite tell from the way Declan talked about him whether the man was a friend or a rival.

Maybe, in Declan’s world, it was the same thing.

After Catie woke up from her nap, she decided she wanted to go for a swim in the hotel’s ritzy pool. I pointed out that Declan had a pool at home, and there was a whole city outside to explore. She pointed out that this pool had a waterfall and super fluffy bathrobes for when we were done swimming.

I couldn’t argue with that logic, so we exhausted ourselves swimming. Then we went up to our hotel suite—three bedrooms, a sitting room, a business suite, and a gorgeous balcony—and ordered room service on Declan’s credit card.

When Declan finally got back to the hotel after his night out with Grayson, Catie and I were eating strudel and watching a Czech movie, making up our own dialogue since we had no idea what the characters were saying.

Declan leaned on the wall and watched us with a fond look in his eyes. But when he caught me watching him, he straightened and retreated to the business suite. He didn’t come out again until it was time for him to read Catie her bedtime story.

I stacked our dirty dishes on a tray and listened to Declan’s soft baritone drifting out from the other room as he read to Catie. I enjoyed that sound more than I wanted to admit.

When he finished reading the book, I scurried out into the hallway to drop off the tray so housekeeping could pick it up. The door swung closed behind me.

I huffed, realizing I’d been locked out.

I knocked on the door softly, careful not to wake Catie. She normally drifted off toward the end of Declan’s last book of the night.

When no one came to the door I knocked a little harder.

This was going to be so embarrassing if I had to go down to the check-in desk and ask for help. At least I was pretty sure how to saystupid Americanin Czech. The phrase had come up several times in the movie Catie and I were watching.

I was about to give up, when Declan opened the door. “What are you doing out there?” he asked, a smile lurking in the corner of his lips.

“I got locked out,” I explained. “My keycard is inside.”

“You should keep it in your pocket,” Declan said, stepping back to let me into our rooms.

I gestured to my camisole and pajama shorts. “What pockets?”

His eyes darkened as he took in my relative lack of clothing.

A delicious thread of anticipation stretched between us.

Stop, I told myself firmly.There’s nothing to anticipate.

I tried to step away from Declan and bashed into an overstuffed armchair. Declan caught my hips to keep me from tumbling backward.

“Thank you,” I said. The words came out breathier than I intended.

His hands spread on my hips. “I’m done with work for the night. We could have a glass of wine on the balcony. Or play the X-rated version of that movie game you were playing with Catie.”

Everything in me wanted to say yes. Which was why I knew I had to say no.

That thread of anticipation tangled into something complicated and agonizing.

I stepped out of his grasp, careful to avoid inconveniently placed furniture. “That does sound fun. But I think it’s probably best if we avoid old habits, right?”

Declan didn’t answer me. He just looked at me, his eyes dark and hungry.

Why did he have tolookat me? I felt my resolve beginning to crumble.

“We both have full days tomorrow,” I babbled. “I’m going to turn in for the night.”

I grabbed for the closest doorknob I found, grateful when it did indeed turn out to be my room. I shut the door behind me and leaned on it. I closed my eyes and blew out a long sigh.

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