HAYLEY

The first time Davis Shaw strolled into the Hartsburg Parks with a blonde bombshell on his on his arm, I finally knew the true taste of envy—it’s bitter, drugging, takes your breath right out of your lungs. I’m a maid on paper and an overall grunt in reality for the hotel. I’m surrounded by patrons of our hallowed halls who can afford a dinner that costs more than what I get paid for a full week of work. But I didn’t envy them. I’ve learned their lives come with a barrel of secrets one would kill to keep.

But the woman with Davis? I would have groveled through glass to spend a day in her Louis Vuittons. That emotion only deepened every time she lingered in the hallway after a night of whatever they did at the hotel. He’d stand in the doorway, cup the back of her head and his fingers would part the strands of her hair as he fisted his hand. Then with a tenderness that turned my eyes green, he’d place a kiss on her forehead. I never had to guess how the woman felt. Her entire body would curve into him, melding every inch of their bodies that could experience touch.

And what would Davis do?

He’d smirk. Not an asshole one as though he knew he had a godlike dick and a mouth that could make women sell their souls to have it taste their flesh. The smirk was like the kiss—faint but potent. The half smile only made better with his blue-green eyes and his mussed honey-colored strands. I’d swooned right along with her.

For weeks afterward my stomach churned with envy because always, always I’d find myself on his floor around check out time, and he’d be brushing his lips along her forehead and she would be melting into him because that simple intimacy gave her life.

Want to know the first thing he said to me after I yearned for him in the shadows?

“Come change my bedding.”

Sexy, right?

But then he started to smirk at me, and say things like, “How’s the hotel business?”

And I’d reply with no sign of my filter in place. Once I had even said, “No rock stars have checked in. So no suspicious nosebleeds to clean up after.”

He’d laughed then disappeared into his room.

Sometimes he’d fix his blue eyes on me, looking rugged and pretty as always and say, “Come in. You’re walking like your feet hurt.”

Patrons and staff should never mingle so I’d decline. Yet there were times he’d look worn around the edges.

I’d say some variation of, “What brain rot are you reading this week?”

He’d tell me and eventually become animated, but that became dangerous after a while.

“Year of Yes?” I had asked. “I’m supposed to believe you’re reading this?”

He’d push from the desk’s chair, slowly unbuttoning one of his crisp, white shirts. His long fingers so methodical and patient with the ivory buttons I could almost feel his touch on my skin. “Hayley, how often do you say no to things you really want to do? To things that scare you?” The question had been pitched in a tone that made my panties feel unimportant.

That voice is his super power. It’s why he knows my parents still live in the same neighborhood I grew up in—a rough but safe one. I’m an only child. I love books too. Pretty much any inane detail a guest shouldn’t know about me, because his voice makes me lose my shut-up button.

Week after week I donned green and envied the blonde. I shouldn’t, especially when I learned what and who she is to Davis. How could I not know when I’m looking for secrets the guests have thoughtlessly revealed?

And his secrets?

She calls him Lincoln. The trashcan by the bed is filled with dental dam and condom wrappers after her stay. My boss lets him stay well past checkout, and we are on notice to be at Davis’s beck and call. Lastly, I’ve caught him dancing…or he’s let me watch without comment. His hips move with such fluidity, catching whatever bass beat is lingering in the air and I swear he makes the O element have an ‘O.’

Davis Shaw is the epitome of sex on two legs. He’s the hotel’s dirty secret.

I shouldn’t love the way he flusters me. I shouldn’t seethe when the blonde gets a forehead kiss.

I shouldn’t.

But I do.

I do even though I have my own secrets, and I’m trying to find out his client’s. That last one—doing that can put me in jail.