Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Suddenly, someone jerks my arm.
It’s the bellhop.
Fuck.
“Ma’am … do you have your card?” He sounds a lot stricter now.
I frown, confused. My head is spinning. “My what?”
He sighs. “Are you a guest at this hotel?”
I look up at the stairs, but I’ve lost sight of him. “Um …”
“Come with me, please,” he says, tugging my arm to pull me back down the stairs.
But I don’t want to go. I was almost there. I almost had him. I could almost touch him.
And now he’s gone again. Goddammit.
The bellhop tugs me along with him, forcing me back to the desk, where I know my search will end. I don’t know why it’s so important for them to keep me here, and why I’m not allowed to go up without some kind of card, but whatever.
At this rate, I’ll be thrown out of the hotel if I resist, so I don’t. Instead, I use my puppy dog eyes to persuade him to let me go anyway.
“Please, I need to speak to that man …” I say, trying to see if D’s still there, but he’s already gone.
“Who are you talking about?” the bellhop asks. “Can you show me your card, please?”
“The man in the suit with the dark hair,” I say, totally ignoring his request. “He just went up the stairs.”
The bellhop cocks his head, and says, “Wait … you’re one of the girls!”
I frown, staring. “Wha—”
“We were expecting a replacement. Finally. I was starting to worry,” he interrupts, grabbing a pencil and writing down something on a piece of paper. “You’ll need to go to his office on the second floor.”
He rips the paper off the stack and hands it to me. I stare at it, flabbergasted, unsure of what to do.
“Go on then. He’s waiting for you,” he says, pushing me in the direction of the stairs again.
I can’t even protest. By the time I look up from staring at the paper, the bellhop is already talking to another guest.
The reason I’m so dumbstruck is because of the name written on the card.
Declan Porter. D. It has to be him.
A smug smile spreads on my lips.
I could turn around and tell the bellhop I’m not the girl he’s looking for. Or I could press on and finally see D again.
My feet have already made the decision as I move up the stairs to the second floor. My heart flutters in my chest as I approach the room number written on the paper. Thirty-five. All the way in the back of the hallway near a bunch of other offices.
I’ve never seen a hotel where the offices are on a lower floor, but maybe they do things differently here. I can’t complain as long as I get to see him again.
I know he probably blocked me, but I want to know why. Because I’m damn sure he was enjoying himself just as much as I was. I need to know if a possibility for something more exists. Something … whatever it is. I have to find out.
But as I knock on the door, sweat begins to roll down my back.
Anticipation is killing me as I await a response.
However, it never comes.
Frowning, I slowly push the door handle until it clicks, and the door opens. It’s only a small peek to see if he’s there.
My head tilts inside the room. “Hello?”
Like a curious butterfly, I wiggle into the room and look around.
Should I leave or wait for him?
A few seconds pass, and my eyes glide over the room. There’s a drawing board filled with notes in the back along with a desk and a chair. To the side is a small bookcase with a bunch of books, and on the wall are several … titillating paintings.
Declan is nowhere to be found. I should definitely not be here right now.
Still, I can’t help look around. Just a simple glance won’t hurt, right?
My eyes immediately connect with the window on the other side of the desk. I step closer and gaze at the view outside. Across the street, the flag of Hotel Davies is blowing in the wind.
If I wasn’t sure before, I am now … This is the place.
And the laptop resting on the desk has to be the one where he typed out all of those filthy messages to me.
I can’t help but let my fingers glide along the desk and the leather chair. I pull it back and sit down, bouncing up and down on the soft cushion. It feels so luxurious. Definitely an office for a senior manager. Or something more.
I gaze at the laptop and touch the keypads with my fingertips, imagining him typing dirty words. I can see it in my mind … Him sitting here with his fly undone and his hand in his trousers while he bites his lip.