Holy crap.

I almost slept with Rook Carter.

In a place I wasn’t even supposed to be.

What’s wrong with me? And why can’t I get my job done, finish my assignment, and go home like everybody else? Why do I always complicate my life like that?

Just like my mom always has. Why do easy when I can make a mess I can’t get out of, right? Works every time. I mess up, get distracted by dark, pretty things like Rook.

And that’s exactly what happened today—yet again.

My phone pings in my dress pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from Lucy, asking how things are going.

How do I reply to that, huh?

I fire back a quick text to let her know nothing new has come up, and that I need more time. Then again, what’s new?

Le sigh.

I’m still in shock. And Rook… what was he doing in that office? He caught me by surprise, almost scared me to death. I barely had time to get out of Camille’s office. Thank God I’d finished checking her computer and had logged out by then.

I didn’t immediately recognize him dressed—in a suit and tie, no less, and not barefoot and bare-chested as I’m used to seeing him.

Did he really have an appointment with Camille Malthus? I didn’t know he came here for business. But why not, right? He is the CEO of his father’s company. He does business all the time.

With Camille, though? That corrupt bitch?

None of my business, though. Rook isn’t the point here. Rook is a distraction. A handsome, sexy, powerful distraction, and his cock felt huge, where it was pressed between my legs earlier, but…

God, focus!

Hard to, when I’m still lightheaded from coming so hard, and from feeling just how affected he was by it, too.

By me.

A shiver runs down my spine at the memory, the forbidden thought. Because it’s not just his excitement I’d felt, but also his spicy scent, his powerful body, his reaction to my nails digging into his skin through his jacket, and then those dark, dark eyes pinning me, owning me… promising things I can barely imagine, things that make my panties damp and my nipples tight until I have to stop and take a calming breath.

Seriously now. Stop.

Back on track. I’m not done here. In fact, I wasn’t anywhere near done when Rook stepped in my way and finished me off.

Groan. Insert eyeroll.

And cue another shiver and a clenching deep inside my belly, a sweet ache between my legs that has me gasping.

This is ridiculous.

There are more offices I should be sweeping, looking for clues, making sure I’ve checked everything is as it should be before I make my way downstairs, but somehow I can’t, not now. I’m too rattled. A drink sounds like a good idea.

Thank God in this job nobody bats an eye if the employees grab a shot of whiskey before their next shift. After all, it is a job where meeting the customers for drinks and sex is encouraged. A rich, dirty, depraved den for the jet set.

Feeling like a tiny insect caught in a giant web, I hurriedly make my way downstairs, the ride in the elevator seeming interminable. My palms sweating, I roll my cart into the staff closet, close the door, and wander back out to grab a drink from the bar and nurse it in the staff room.

The bartender today is Tony, a really sweet guy. Probably the only sweet guy in this whole building, and I wonder how long he’ll last until the darkness seeps into him, too.

I feel it seeping into me already, and it’s not just Rook’s darkness I’m feeling. It’s this whole place, getting to me slowly, getting under my skin, day after day of passing by rooms where people hurt each other and screw each other in every imaginable way and in ways where my imagination falls short.

I used to hate it. I still do.

Sort of.

I hate how it gets me uncomfortably excited and horny and yearning for something more, something I can’t name. And how I wish Rook would show me… show me what it’s like.

Crap.

“The usual?” Tony asks, and doesn’t even wait for my nod before he pours me a finger of brandy—the good one, too. I hope he won’t get into trouble for that. He seems to have a soft spot for me, and I’m not calling him out on it. Not many allies in here. I’ll take what I can.

“Thanks.” I take the glass, nod, and turn to go.

And come face to face with Cody, the jackass.

“Look who washed up on this dirty shore.” He plants himself in front of me, blocking my way, hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his loathsome face.

Unlike Tony, Cody is not an ally I want. He’s a tall blond with gray eyes, and an easy smile that wins him points with the ladies.

Not me, though. He’s unpleasant. Pushy. Slimy.

He wants into my pants, and I want him like I want a sexually transmitted disease.

“What’s up, sweet cheeks?” He’s staring at my boobs, and all I wish is for him to leave me alone so that I can have my drink and get on with business. “Been looking for you.”

“Really.”

“We need to talk.”

“Um, no.” I try to pass by him, but he sidesteps, blocking me again. “Cody, move.”

“What if, instead, I bend you over and slap that perky ass of yours? I bet you’d love it.”

Angry heat spreads on my neck. “Fuck you.”

“Rather do it the other way round.” He moves toward me, and I step back. “Doesn’t it get you excited, walking by all those rooms, hearing the sounds of pain and sex? Didn’t you ever want to see what it’s like to be tied down and have a flogger mark you?”

Yeah, this is like an echo of my earlier thoughts. Since Rook, I have wondered. And yearned, and told myself not to get crazy and stop it.

But I’m distracted when he takes another step, closing the distance between us, and panic grips my insides.

Because that is the thing:

Rook advancing on me gives me a dark thrill.

Cody advancing on me gives me the creeps.

“Lady told you to let her pass,” Tony rumbles behind me, and Cody’s eyes narrow past me. Uh-oh. “Move your ass.”

I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“I don’t see any lady,” Cody mutters, and the hot flush of anger spreads to my ears. How dare he? “Mia here is a sl—”

Ow.

My hand is throbbing, an ache spreading down my arm, and that’s before I realize I’ve slapped the asshole across the face, so hard that his face has snapped to the side.

Awesome. Perfect way to draw attention to myself, something that I wasn’t supposed to do. Good job, Mia.

And then I remember the glass in my other hand. “Oh and something to cool you down,” I say and throw the brandy into his face just as he turns to glare at me.

Go all out while I’m at it, why not?

Did I mention I tend to complicate things? Here ya go. Even if the bastard deserved it.

He’s friendly with the higher-ups in the hotel. He’s best buddies with the head of staff. And I just threw expensive brandy in his face.

Way to go, girl. High five.

“Excuse me,” I say breezily, doing my best to hide the tremor in my hands and my voice. “Got to go back to work.”

I don’t wait to see if Cody will try to stop me. I’m sure that he’ll take things up a notch. A guy like him doesn’t like to be challenged, not in front of others, and I know I have to be even more careful from now on.

How nice.

* * *

Hot-blooded, my mom has always said. Impulsive.

She was referring to herself of course, not to me, but that doesn’t matter. We are too similar. She’d open her mouth and say whatever. She’d walk away and not realize what she left behind. She’d change the men in her bed like most women change the towels in their bathroom.

Regularly. Religiously. Sometimes even suddenly, if they smelled bad to her.

Sometimes she just moved herself to another bed, instead.

But I’m not exactly like her, I tell myself for the millionth time. I’ve had this argument with myself since I was little, and we moved from apartment to apartment, and city to city, as Mom chased new excitement, new jobs and new men.

After her father went to prison for fraud and her mother skipped town for places unknown, my mom found her own way of coping, I guess.

It won’t become my way, though. I may be hot-blooded, and hot-headed, I may not always take a rational way out when things get sticky, but I’ve been careful with men.

Too careful.

As in, barely went out with any. Barely slept with any. Kept my distance.

Because I’m not my frigging mom, and this is important to me.

Yet here I am, letting Rook dry-hump me on a desk, and unable to stop thinking about him.

No matter how hard I try.

Meanwhile, I keep looking over my shoulder as I go about changing sheets and cleaning bathrooms, wiping down bondage benches and spanking horses with antiseptic, feeling almost naked in my tiny dress and high heels, afraid Cody or one of his buddies might jump me as I come out of the suite, pushing my cart—pretending my life is normal and that nothing scares me.

This job scares me.

Men like Cody scare me.

And men like Rook… scare me in a completely different way. By how obsessed I’ve gotten with him. How curious, and how excited. How in lust I am with him.

Double crap. I need to stay away from the man as much as possible. Shouldn’t be that hard. Away from all men, in fact. They’re nothing but trouble, as my life with Mom has proven time and again.

Even if the result of one of her random hook-ups was me. She says she’s proud of me.

Not sure how I feel about me, to be honest. Not sure I’m proud of myself. I try my best. I hope it’s enough.

I’m coming out of the elevator on the ninth floor, pushing a cart piled up with linens and towels, when the elevator next to mine opens and a guy steps out. I get a quick impression of broad shoulders, dark hair, tailored suit and general male awesomeness, and realize I’ve stopped in my tracks, watching him stroll away.

Wait a minute. It’s not Rook.

Well, phew. Good. Awesome. Right?

Right. God, I really hate the tiny twinge of disappointment inside my chest. Haven’t we established that I need to stay away from him?

My phone starts to ring, and I just know it must be Lucy. She was in a meeting with the boss this morning and was making noises about a new strategy.

Sure enough, when I check, it’s her. Who else could it be? Mom refuses to use the phone except for emergencies, and it’s not like I have that many friends.

Pathetic, I know.

I lift the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“What’s up, girlfriend? Ogling handsome rich guys getting the crap beaten out of them as they come?”

I choke a little. “Lucy.” I’m permanently horrified by my friend. She’s awesome. “That’s…”

“…none of my business? Sure, ogle on. You got the best job in the world, you know that?”

“Whatever.” I bet Lucy would have enjoyed this assignment, though I can’t really complain. Getting Cronin is my life’s goal. “Any news?”

“We’re hitting a club tonight. The O’Connor brothers may be there. Maybe your days at the kinky hotel are over. Aren’t you sad?”

“Devastated.” I digest this news I’d been hoping for, expecting to feel more joy. After all, after the mess with Rook and the confrontation with Cody, leaving would be best.

And yet. Again that twinge. Like I’d hoped for something, and my time was cut short before I got it.

Stupid.

“Text me the details,” I mutter, wondering why she felt the need to call me for this news. Not like it would take her more than three words to inform me of the change of plans. “Okay? Lucy, you there?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m here, but you’re not. Your mind is a million miles away, like every time I talk to you lately. What’s going on? Is that place freaking you out that badly? Or is it that guy you’re lusting after?”

“I told you about Rook?” I slap a hand over my mouth, horrified. Can’t believe I fell for that cheap trick she likes to use on me.

“Rook, is it? No, you didn’t, but now you have.” Her voice is oozing smugness. “So do tell me more.”

“No way. Gotta go, girl.”

“Why? Is Rook there, listening in?”

With a sigh, I disconnect and think of my next move.