Page 52 of Auctioned Surrender

I smile because Murph and the team have a wealth of ways to glean information like this. “I’d lay bets that we have that information in less than fifteen minutes,” I tell Trent.

“You work with him a lot?” Trent asks.

“Yeah, the entire team is rock solid, but that guy is online twenty-four seven. I’ll introduce you when we get a chance,” I say before the overhead comes on with Murph’s voice in record time.

“She’s all checked in. Room 923.”

I can’t help but grin. “Do I want to know which lovely lady of yours you sweet-talked into giving you that confidential information, Murph?”

“You’d be wrong, my friend. It’s a skill, the power of knowing how to navigate systems without ever being caught.”

“Uh-huh. Your secrets are safe with me. Thanks for the help.” I disconnect before Murph can retort. I send a message to make sure one of the penthouses on the property is available tonight and that the other team members aren’t using the space. It’s free, which is good because we’re going to need to move quickly to get Layla out of that room before the raving lunatic of a boyfriend shows up at her door.

Trent pulls up at the front entrance to the hotel. “I’ll text you once I know more. Glad to have you back,” I say before getting out of the car and heading straight through the lobby and up the elevator to the ninth floor. I enter the lovely Layla Contreras’ number into my cell as I make my way through the hallway to her room and wait for her to pick up.

“Bryanna?”

“No, it’s Dereck. I’m at your door. Let me in.”

Layla’s quiet, except for soft, rhythmic breathing on the other end of the line, causing my body to thrum with desire for the dark-haired beauty.

“It’s lonely out here, Princess. Let me in.”

Chapter 4

Layla

Dereck is at my freakin door. “Give me a sec,” I say, disconnecting, quickly drying off, and scrambling for some clothes that I can get over damp skin. I rummage through my overnight bag, pull out a pair of black yoga pants, throw on a clean white tank, and towel dry my hair as I head to the door and open it.

His steely gray eyes capture my gaze with his own before slowly wandering lower.

My cheeks heat, feeling my nipples pebble through the thin white material of my shirt. His eyes return to mine. “Who else has your phone number, Layla?”

I scowl. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Layla, this is important, and we don’t have a lot of time. When I ask you a question, I generally prefer a respectful response; not more of your attitude, especially after the day I’ve had.”

I realize my mouth is agape and close it slowly. “Only a few people. Why?”

He contemplates my response but doesn’t look convinced. “Specifically, who? And you don’t get to answer a question with another, princess.”

“And you don’t get to stalk my ass and then walk right into my hotel room uninvited and start ordering me around!”

“Who has your number, princess? Your boss?” he coaxes.

This man is as annoying as he is fine! “He’s one, and the other is Bryanna. I only gave it to her for an emergency. No one else calls me. The boss is a jealous puta. What can I say?”

“Grab your belongings. You’re moving in with me for the night.”

“Whoa! Pump your brakes, Casanova. I think you may have gotten the wrong impression about me. I may shake my ass for a living, but I’m not about to land under you tonight for a few lousy bucks. You throw around all that shit about respect, and then you come into my hotel room, don’t even ask, just order me to your room. That’s not how this goes down. See, at least the johns at the club have the decency to ask, and…”

“Stop talking. I’ll explain everything later. Gather your belongings, Layla. No more arguments. We need to go now before your boss finds you.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

His eyes turn to slits, and my heartbeat picks up. He’s dead ass serious. Damn that man! “Why didn’t you just say that!” I scurry for my purse, push the newly discarded clothes into the overnight bag, and slip into my heels. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Dereck looks up and down the hall, grabs my hand, and tugs me through the door. “Come on. We’re upstairs,” he says, taking my bag and tossing the strap over his shoulder.

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