Page 25 of Craving Danger

He pulls a phone out of his pocket, and I watch as he calls someone and tells whoever is on the other end of the line, “Order a burger and fries and bring it to the room.”

I’m once again struck with a feeling that I know him from somewhere.

When he ends the call, he moves off the bed to sit on the floor. He stretches his long legs in front of him, and it looks so comfortable, I decide to join him.

His eyes are locked on me as I get from the chair and sit down near the wall so I can lean back against it, leaving enough space between us to fit two people.

“So you’re a burger and fries girl?” he asks, his tone unexpectedly playful.

“I’m actually a pizza girl, but I had it for dinner last night.”

He lets out a chuckle, and the sound makes my smile widen.

“What do you like to eat?” I ask to keep the conversation flowing.

“Anything but…” he pauses for a moment, then clearing his throat, he says, “I’m not a fan of broccoli.”

“I’m not too fond of it either.”

“We have something in common.”

I’m surprised when the door opens a few minutes later, and a staff member hands my takeout to my mystery man.

“Anything else, sir?” the other man asks.

“A bottle of water.”

As soon as the staff member leaves, I ask, “Are you a manager here?”

My mystery man nods as he opens the paper bag to take out my food.

When he passes my burger and fries to me, I ask, “Is there any ketchup?”

He hands me two packets and our fingers brush. Instantly, my heartbeat quickens, and I quickly pull back. Trying to hide my reaction from him, I squirt the ketchup all over my fries.

Chapter 9

Franco

I’m not going to lie, I’ve never done anything remotely close to this.

Sitting on the floor with my PA is the last thing I expected to do tonight.

But it’s weirdly satisfying.

Whenever I speak to Miss Blakely, I keep my tone soft and don't treat her like I would at the office, because I don’t want her to run for the hills.

Passing a burger and fries to her, our fingers touch, but she quickly pulls back. Her features tighten, and while she’s busy drowning her fries in ketchup, I watch as she sucks in a deep breath of air.

Haven’t we touched before?

I search my memory, and realizing she’s always kept a couple of inches between us makes me wonder what happened to her.

I can take a few guesses, but they all make me angry just thinking about them.

She might’ve annoyed me the first two weeks she worked with me, but since she got her act together, it’s been, dare I say, pleasant.

Wanting to separate the time we spend together here atParadisofrom when we’re at work, I ask, “Can I call you Samantha?”

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