Mistakes. Having sex with Rook was a mistake. Losing sight of my goal was a mistake. I’m out of sorts, lately. Off my game.

Lucy was pissing mad over that, and with good reason. Blaming it on her delay in arriving didn’t work, and she’s right. I lost focus.

Where Rook Carter is concerned, focus is a thing of the past. He makes my knees weak and my heart race, and no matter how I tell myself to keep away from him, I somehow always find myself close up and personal.

Very personal, and a throb starts between my legs at the memory of what we did in that small office at the club.

And then I bailed, leaving him there with Alfred the Douchebag. To be fair, I’m sure Rook can hold his own against any guy, even a powerful one like Alfred.

It still didn’t feel right. But I had to find Lucy.

Who’s chewing me out right now as we sit in her apartment, drinking coffee and stuffing ourselves with chocolate.

I’ve known Lucy for a while, though I’d never worked with her before. We live in the same building, and girls’ nights with reruns of favorite series, popcorn and hot chocolate are the highlights of my week.

Although tonight is a bit tense…

“What were you thinking?” She waves a piece of chili chocolate in the air, dark eyes stormy.

Dark like Rook’s eyes, but honest to God, his are prettier. With flecks of gold and black, a warm brown as they stared down at me when he—

“Are you even listening to me? You have that star-struck gaze in your eyes.”

“What star-struck gaze?” I slurp at my coffee, avoiding her gaze. “I am listening.”

“Ah-huh. So you heard me asking how the hell you thought sleeping with Rook Carter was a good idea.”

“Never said I thought it was a good idea.”

“And yet you get that look in your eyes when you hear his name.”

“Oh come on.” I put my coffee down and make a grab for the chocolate, only she’s faster and moves it out of reach. “He’s a hottie, you gotta admit that, even if you’re not into men.”

“That’s beside the point.” And she still won’t let me have the chocolate. “So what if he’s hot. You were supposed to be there with Alfred, waiting for me.”

“Only you were late, and then…”

“And then Rook happened.”

I sigh. “Yeah okay. Rook happened. Now let me have some chocolate before I kick you.”

Grudgingly she lowers the chocolate, and I grab it. “Sorry I was late.”

“Yeah, you said that. Girlfriend stood you up?”

“Wasn’t her. Car broke down in the middle of the street, and had to have it towed.”

“Ouch. Need to change your car, girl.” Stuffing my mouth with chocolate, I close my eyes.

Mm. Life would be dark indeed without chocolate.

“I know I need to change my car. I also need a better salary.”

“Don’t we all?” I lean back on her sofa and lick my fingers. “God, this is good.”

“As good as wild, uninhibited sex with Rook Carter? Wait… you did use protection, right?”

I almost choke on the chocolate. “No! I mean, yes, we used protection.”

But the sex… was off the charts good. I love chocolate, but sex with Rook was so crazy awesome I’m trying not to think of it, or my brain goes blank and my body goes hot and tight.

“The problem remains, though.” She falls back against the cushions, huffing. “The evening was a bust. Bossman won’t be happy.”

“Let’s see him play the date of that asshole in an S&M club and see how he likes it.”

“Not the point, girly.”

“I know,” I grumble. “I screwed up, okay? This is on me.”

“Nah, I’m the one who was late.” She runs her hands through her short hair. “Argh. We didn’t get any info on Alfred, though if you ask me, that wouldn’t have worked anyway. People like the O’Connors don’t leave their laptops and tablets lying around even when having fun. The bossman is too optimistic.”

“So it’s back to the original plan, I guess.”

She shoots me a concerned look. “You holding up okay in that hotel?”

“It sucks, but I’ll live. It’s just… not easy doing my job in that sort of place.”

“Because Rook is there?”

“And how would you know that?”

“Come on. Red Thorn and Cronin Hotel are catering to the same kinky elite. Plus you told me you saw Rook at the hotel.”

And how. Half-naked. Kissing me. Pressing me to the window overlooking the city. Asking for a night with me.

I refused—and then let him fuck me at the club. Talk about giving him mixed signals.

Much like the ones running between my conscious brain and my body when he looks at me. So mixed.

“Mia. Focus.” Lucy snaps a finger in my face, and I flinch. “What’s up with you lately? Girl, you’re a mess. That hotel’s playing a real number on you. I told the boss he should have sent me in, not you. You’re too virginal for that.”

“Shut up!” I start laughing. “Virginal? Oh my God, you didn’t just say that.”

“I know you, woman. Say dildo. Say it, and I dare you not to blush. What the hell are you doing in a sex hotel? Seriously.”

I’m still laughing. It feels good after the stress of the evening. “Yeah, try explaining that to the powers that be. Besides, you were busy. Probably why the job landed in my hands.”

“Couldn’t they have sent in a guy?”

“They said a woman is more inconspicuous.”

“Pff. Idiots.”

I drink coffee to that. “It’s all right. Despite my grumbling, I’m glad I’m part of this. Getting Cronin is everything to me.”

She slings her arm around me. “After tearing your family apart, he should burn in hell.”

“Amen to that.” Few people know about Cronin’s involvement in my family’s demise. My grandfather’s indictment, my grandmother’s flight, my mother’s breakdown and later inability to hold a job or a man—her brother’s untimely death from drug abuse. And all so that Cronin could get his hands on a piece of land my grandfather refused to sell him. “Hey, you know what would do this coffee a world of good? Some booze.”

“Now you’re talking. Crash here tonight, and I’ll go look for it.”

“You got it.” I don’t want to move, don’t want to think about everything that happened tonight, and what to expect tomorrow. Tugging on my torn dress, I lean back and wait for Lucy to bring the booze.

It’s time to up my game, to take risks and get results. There’s just one thing that I haven’t told Lucy, one thing that my mind keeps getting twisted around:

What’s Rook’s connection to the O’Connor brothers?

Do I need to watch him now, too?

What a hardship, my mind chirps, and I shush it, because this is serious. Should I be afraid of Rook, too, on top of wanting him and being so confused about it all?

Life just isn’t fair.

* * *

The hangover from hell isn’t helping with my plans to up my game and get this show on the road. But I know the stakes. I take my job seriously. And I’m out to avenge my family’s single-minded destruction by one greedy man who won’t stop at anything to quench his thirst for power.

It’s the only reason I’m back here, at the hotel, dressed in my mini black dress with its frilly white apron, pushing my cart of fresh linens, towels and cleaning products, even if my mind won’t stop churning.

To top it all, I have snatches from Rook and Alfred’s conversation last night surfacing through my memories as I walk through the long corridors of the hotel, playing in a loop.

Alfred had told Rook that he’d get him. Whatever that meant. That Rook’s friends wouldn’t get away again. Or something along those lines.

And Rook had replied… something about sending a message. We will fuck you up. Or… we will fuck up.

No, that doesn’t make sense.

Especially since after that, he’d said, “This isn’t over.”

I remember these words very clearly, in Rook’s deep, angry voice. “This isn’t over.”

What does that mean? How are they connected? Because if I remember this correctly, they didn’t sound like buddies, rather like enemies.

But if Alfred is connected to Rook… I mean, he was in Camille Malthus’s office, and now this. Like, wherever I go, he turns up first.

Curiouser and curiouser.

And even worse… did I just have sex with the villain in this story?

My phone chirps, and I consider not checking it. My head is pounding and my heart is heavy. I tried so hard to find a different path from my mother’s—with my job, my friends, and my refusal to jump into bed with any random guy.

But I failed. Whenever Rook is around, I’m glued on him like a sticker. My mind switches off and my body lights up. This is proof, evidence that I’m turning into my mother, and it terrifies me.

Another chirp and vibration in my pocket, and I huff, coming to a stop. I open the new message, my mind only half on what Lucy has to tell me, and freeze when my eyes drop on the words.

“Did you know Robert has booked a suite at the hotel today?”

I type back, “Robert as in Alfred’s brother?”

“The one and only.”

Shit. “Can you get me the room number, or do I have to bribe the receptionist?” I think Jenna is manning the front desk today, which should make it doable.

“I can. Think you can search the room, hack his phone or something?”

“I can try.”

Holy shit. A stroke of luck. As I wait for Lucy to send me the room number, I can’t help but think back to Robert and Rook’s exchange. Those sharp verbal jabs, and the heat in the gazes as they glared at each other… the aggression in their stances, as if they were a second away from tearing each other’s throats out.

Shaking my head to dispel the image, I continue my way down the hallway, checking my phone app to see which rooms have special requests, cleaning the rest and replacing things like lubricant and antiseptic and first-aid kits.

All these months, and I’m still not used to this place. I get the dominant-submissive thing. I guess. Like, the way Rook pressed into me, pushed me back on the desk, forcing my mouth to open for that rough, hot kiss…

Woo. I fan my face as I check the towels of the suite. Yeah, that was hot, that dominance thing—but the pain thing? I don’t get it. And I don’t know how to reconcile it with the dom that is Rook.

The text with the room number arrives, and I chew on my lip as I shove the phone back into my pocket and stare at the fresh towels I’ve just laid out.

I reach out and tweak them, centering them better on the table in the en-suite bathroom. Okay, then. All set.

I’m going to find a moment when Alfred and his companion leave the suite for dinner or a drink downstairs, or maybe a swim in the covered roof terrace pool. I will sneak in and go through their things, then be out and back to being a mere maid in a five-star kinky hotel.

No harm, no foul.

I’ve got this. Not a problem at all. Armed with my cart and my special toolkit tucked deep under the stacks of towels and fresh sheets, I’m a force to be reckoned with. Watch out, Robert O’Connor.

If you’re guilty, I’ll do my best to catch you. And you smell guilty. Fishy. Rank.

Then again, everyone at that club and in this hotel stinks the same… probably even Rook, underneath that delicious scent of spice and man.

Right?