Falling for My Dirty Uncle
She’s had a rough night. Someone has to take care of her.
In front of us, the light turns red. As we wait at the intersection, my eyes wander across the street to the Metropolitan Hideaway.
It’s one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. From the road, it looks like a private mansion. Hidden behind a row of sculpted green hedges, the stately art deco building stands ten stories high and has no signs to welcome visitors.
But I’m no ordinary visitor. I have a membership there, and I know this hotel will make room for us.
“Just drop us off right in front,” I tell my driver.
“At the Hideaway? You haven’t been here since—”
“I know,” I cut him off.
A few of my most notorious business deals have started at the hotel bar and ended in the penthouse suite, but that’s not what this is. Tonight, I’m just trying to make sure Mira is comfortable and safe.
We pull up to the circular driveway and stop in front of the entrance to the lobby.
“Mira, honey.” I gently shake her awake.
She opens her eyes and blinks, smiling at me sweetly. My heart skips a beat. Is this what it would be like to wa
ke up to her every morning?
“Where are we?” Mira stretches and looks out the window, where the lobby is only a few steps away. “Is this a hotel?”
“Not just any hotel,” I correct her. “It’s a members-only hotel where you can get some rest without anyone bothering you.” I give her a wink. “Except for me, of course.”
“I thought we weren’t taking things any further,” she protests, but when I drape my arm around her to hold her up, she nuzzles my shoulder and lets me lead her to the front desk.
The lobby is even more beautiful than I remember it. Marble columns line the foyer, where thick rugs cushion our path along the gleaming mahogany floors. Above our heads, crystal chandeliers dangle from ornate pressed-tin ceilings.
When we reach the front desk, we’re the only two people in the lobby. An old-fashioned brass bell sits on top of a spotless marble counter. I ring the bell for service, and the desk clerk appears from the back office.
He smiles as if he’s been expecting us. “Good evening. Welcome to the Metropolitan Hideaway. Are you checking in?”
“I don’t have a reservation,” I explain, pulling out my membership card, “but I was hoping you might have a room available. It’ll just be for tonight.”
“Of course, Mr. Westbrook,” the desk clerk replies after reading the name on my card. “Let me see what I can find for you.” He looks down for a moment, types something into his computer, and nods.
He looks at Mira, who is yawning next to me, about to fall asleep on my shoulder. “Is she your…girlfriend?”
“Ah…” I struggle to find the words. I didn’t think I’d have to explain the nature of my relationship with Mira to a hotel employee. And there’s no way in hell I’m telling him she’s my step-niece.
The desk clerk must be able to sense my apprehension. “I’m asking because the only room we have left available is the honeymoon suite,” he explains.
Mira wakes up and pats me on the cheek. “I’m his wife, actually,” she answers for us. “We’re newlyweds. Where is this honeymoon suite?”
“It’s on the tenth floor. We had a last-minute cancellation, so it’s already made up for you. You’ll need to take a private elevator to the top of the building. I can give you the key.”
A private elevator sounds perfect. That means we’ll also have the floor to ourselves, and no one will be allowed to follow us up there.
“We’ll take it,” I agree. “Charge it to my account.”
The desk clerk hands me the key, and I walk Mira to the elevator. When the two doors part, I hold them open with my hand. “After you.”
Mira steps into the elevator, and when I follow her, she turns around and raises an eyebrow at me. “Oh, you’re coming with me now?”
She’s just teasing me. I hope.