Falling In (The Surrender Trilogy 1)

Scout stood unmoving for a moment, spray bottle of disinfectant hanging in her left hand and a rag in her right. Tamara shoved a keycard in her direction. She quickly peeled off her gloves and took the card.

“What about this room? I’m not finished.”

“I’ll find someone else to finish it. Just go. Mr. Patras doesn’t like to be kept waiting and he didn’t sound happy when he called.”

Well, that wasn’t her fault. She quickly returned to her cart and replaced her items.

“Here, take what you need and I’ll take this down for you,” Tamara said quickly.

Scout had never seen her GM so flustered. Her stout form got behind the cart and quickly pushed it in the direction of the service elevators. Scout hastily grabbed a few necessities and cradled them in her apron. She pulled the door to the half-cleaned room closed and went to the private elevators.

Her heart skipped nervously in her chest as she rode to the top. It was impossible to determine if she was nervous or excited. The elevator quietly chimed, announcing her arrival. Her knuckles knocked softly on the private entrance.

“Housekeeping.”

“Come in.”

At Mr. Patras’s sharp command, she slid her key through the lock and entered. He sat at his messy desk with a phone to his ear. His eyes drilled into hers and her steps faltered. He jabbed his finger through the air and pointed to the sitting area and mouthed sit. She didn’t appreciate the way he scowled at her.

His outburst jolted her into motion and she quickly sat.

“Sell ten percent of my shares and then do your goddamn job and use your brain next time! What the hell am I paying you for if you can’t even keep an eye on the market? I don’t want to hear from you again today unless you’re calling to tell me good news about my net worth.”

He slammed the phone into its cradle and stood. “You’re late.”

She flinched as he shouted.

Scout’s mouth opened and her head shook at his accusation. Refusing to be bullied, she snapped, “You didn’t send in a request for housekeeping.”

He stood and paced with the grace of a black panther. “I thought I made myself quite clear yesterday that you were to come here first thing.”

The arrogance of him! “How am I supposed to do that without a key?”

He scowled. “What happened to your key from yesterday?”

“We have to deactivate them at the end of each day and put them back in the bin.”

He sighed and walked to his desk, pulled open a drawer, moved some things around and then returned to her, holding out a new keycard.

“Here, don’t deactivate this one. It’s mine. Next time I tell you to be somewhere I expect you there on time.”

She bristled. “Mr. Patras—”

“Lucian.”

“Fine, Lucian, I’m sorry you see this as my fault, but I couldn’t walk up to my GM and just say, ‘Oh, by the way, the owner of the hotel propositioned me yesterday and I’m to report directly to him with my answer. Please get me a key.’ I would’ve lost my job.”

“I’m your job.”

“Well, I don’t report to you,” she snapped.

He smiled slowly and there was a dark glimmer in his black eyes. “Everyone in this hotel reports to me, Ms. Keats. Now, you said you had an answer for me.”

Scout shifted uncomfortably. Her brain tried to keep up. She’d thought he rescinded, but now the offer was back on the table again. Objections from yesterday tangled with residual disappointment from the morning. Everything was happening so fast. A bottle of Patras conditioner fell out of her apron and she bent to pick it up. He beat her to it.

“Are you stealing from me, Ms. Keats?” he asked jokingly, tipping back her apron with one long finger to see her plundered items.

She scowled at him. “I told you I don’t steal. I didn’t have time to get my supply basket. My GM was quite adamant I stop everything and go to you right away.”

“Wise woman,” he said, removing the rest of the items from her lap. He invaded her personal space more and more every minute. Once each little bottle sat side by side on the table across from them, he sat back and looked at her.

“Now, your answer . . .”

Her certainty wavered. Yesterday she was reluctant, but this morning she’d been so certain her answer would’ve been yes when she thought the offer was no longer a possibility. Buying some time, she took a deep breath. “I need to know how you see this working out.”

He grinned, apparently already tasting victory.

“If you agree to my terms, I’ll arrange for you to stay here at the hotel until our arrangement is over. You’ll have a house credit, which I’ll pick up the tab on. That’ll allow you to use Patras’s restaurant, bar, spa, salon, gym, pool, room service, and the boutiques downstairs. My driver will also be available to you if you wish to go into town for shopping or lunch. I expect you to be available to me for social functions and whenever I desire your company.”