I was tired. Dead tired.
As I stumbled into my apartment, my foot caught on the step and I tripped, nearly face planting into the wall.
“Shit!” I hopped in place. The shock was a hit of adrenaline that raced through me.
Thankfully I was able to catch myself before I bruised something.
After two grueling mid-term presentations, all I wanted to do was fall into bed and wake up the next morning. Unfortunately, my work wouldn’t allow that. At least I had the peace of mind that my projects were complete, and I was pretty sure I did a good job.
“Crap!” I hissed as I glanced at the clock. I stripped off my clothes as I headed toward the bathroom to shower. It was a good thing I’d picked up food on my drive home, but it’d cost me about fifteen minutes I desperately needed.
Once out of the shower, I toweled off my hair before twisting it up into a tight bun. With it wet, my hair looked almost black instead of its normal bronzy brown. My reflection showed just how tired I was, with dark circles under my hazel eyes. My eyes were a mix of honey gold and green, and the darkness only made them pop more, especially when they were lined with the black of the mascara and eyeliner.
When all was done, I had just over a half an hour to get to work. A little too tight for comfort, but doable.
Sometimes I thought my decision to work full time and get my MBA at the same time was not the sanest decision. I went right from my undergrad to grad school without slowing down, but the rent still needed to be paid. Luckily my apartment was close to Boston College.
That decision was responsible for the fact I’d had almost no sleep in two days. The commute alone was a daunting task in front of me. I could take the subway, but that took longer and I didn’t like taking it home at midnight when my shift was over.
Why did I say I could work a shift right after midterms? Because, I reminded myself, I was a masochist in dire need of some money, and could sleep tomorrow. Rent in Boston was astronomical, and a single day out of my paycheck equated to one of my bills not getting paid. There were always my vacation days, but I held them back for when it came time for finals. I’d already requested most of a week off in May.
As I headed toward the door I grabbed a couple of energy drinks, ripping one open and chugging it on my way down the stairs. Any kind of boost was welcome. I’d probably get a huge latte once I got to work.
The traffic gods seemed to have been smiling down on me, and I was able to get to work with no problems. After finding a parking spot, I tossed an extra energy drink into my purse, grabbed my heels, and headed in.
The Cameo Hotel was a large, five-star hotel situated on the water in the north end of Boston. The least expensive room was hundreds of dollars a night. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for us to see celebrities and corporate CEOs.
It was eerily quiet in the employee lounge, nobody in sight, which was not the best sign. Any prayers I had of an easy night were blown to pieces as soon as I walked from the office and out to the reception area of the lobby.
It became glaringly obvious that I should have called off.
Customers lined the desk, and all managers and supervisors were out. I couldn’t even hear myself think over the decibel level at which the complaints were being screamed.
The awaiting shit storm was not what I needed. The temptation to turn around and run was severe. I was tired and didn’t think I was strong enough to get through the night after the day I’d had. As I stood there like a deer in headlights, a set of eyes locked on me.
Fuck.
I watched the blue eyes of my manager, James, grow wide with relief, and I realized I’d lost my chance to sneak out the way I’d come. I’d been spotted.
I shuffled my feet, about to run as he headed straight toward me.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said with a heavy sigh. By his clothing and features, you wouldn’t think anything was wrong. Every part of him was put together, from his perfectly styled blond hair to the starch of his suit. Even his smile was intact, looking no worse for the wear.
It was all a lie. I knew James well, and behind that calm exterior he was freaking out. His superpower was never letting it show as he calmly defused any situation the hotel hurled at him.
“What is going on, and how do I get out of it?” I whispered.
He let out a dark chuckle. “Sorry, Emma. The only way out for you is through.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “I’m not sure I like you right now.”
“Don’t be that way; you know you love me.”
Damn him for being right. For three years I’d worked my way up at the Cameo, all the way to taking James’s supervisor spot when he was promoted to manager. With his quick wit and charm, we had even ended up dating for a short period, but the timing had been off.
“Keep telling yourself that,” I said, teasing him.
His lips drew up into a smile as he ran his fingers down my arm. “Every day.”
I bit my bottom lip as I looked up at him. “All right, quit stalling.”
The smile on his face fell, and he cringed at the level of one voice that boomed out above the others. “Housekeeping missed an entire floor.”
“What?” Maybe at some low-end hotel it wouldn’t have been so bad, but the Cameo catered to a higher level of clientele, and they had high expectations.
He nodded. “Nothing was done. Not the rooms that were occupied, or the ones that checked out.”
“Shit,” I hissed under my breath. “What’s being done now?”
“They’re working on the floor now, and minor complaints are getting comped meals and discounts. We’re moving and upgrading the incoming guests as well as comping others, case dependent.”
I nod. “Make them happy. Whose floor was it?”
“Valeria is looking into the matter. Right now, we’re just taking care of the fallout one case at a time.”
He inched toward the door, and I sidestepped to block him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry, Emma,” James said as he took my hand and pressed the keys into my palm before he pushed through the office door.
I swung my arm out and stopped it from closing behind him. “Coward!” I hissed.
He turned back to me and smiled. “Let’s get a drink tomorrow. You’re going to need it.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “You’re paying.”
If I didn’t like him so much, I might have punched him for the mess he was leaving me, though I wasn’t really alone. Miguel, the hotel assistant manager, was standing with Jaqueline, one of the clerks. Hopefully he wouldn’t abandon me as well, but he often stayed after five.
With a hard sigh, I straightened my jacket and walked over to Shannon, who was helping a very red-faced man. She seemed flustered, her hands were shaking, and she seemed to have difficulty stringing her words together. Then again, he refused to let her speak.
I set my hand on her shoulder. When she turned to look at me, relief flooded her face.
“Go take a break,” I whispered to her.
She mouthed a “thank you” before scurrying off.
“Hello, sir. I apologize for your experience with us today.”
“You should! That room should be condemned! Beer bottles, condoms, broken mirrors, and trash everywhere. I needed a damn tetanus shot to set foot in there. How was that acceptable?”
“It in no way is. We experienced a technical difficulty today.”
“That’s not my problem!”
“No, sir, absolutely not.” I scanned the computer to find an open room. “I would like to comp your room tonight and move you to one of our junior suites at no extra charge for the rest of your stay. Is that agreeable?”
He pulled back, no longer leaning over the counter like he wanted to throttle me. In a way, he looked defeated. Almost as if he wanted to fight me, but my response wasn’t what he expected.
He nodded. “That works.”
One of the most valuable tricks I’d learned in my years working at the hotel—never let people see when they’re getting to you.
I gave him my best smile, making sure it reached my eyes, while my ears were bleeding from the shrieks of a Barbie-esque socialite at the other end of the counter. Her complaint was minor compared to the man in front of me. Not that what happened was excusable, but not having two towels exchanged and her garbage can emptied was hardly something to shriek about. Complain? For our guests, yes. Shriek? No.
“Here you are, sir,” I said as I handed him his new keys. “You will be up on the sixteenth floor. Once there, take a left and your room will be on your right.” I gave him a smile and watched as he huffed away.
Angry customer after angry customer were defused over the next hour. Screams of displeasure and threats still echoed in my ears by the time we were done, but the night was still young.
Once we were clear for a few minutes, Miguel headed back to the office, and I followed behind him after letting Caleb go home.
“What happened?” I asked as I sat in the chair across from Miguel.
He shook his head before running his hands down his face. “I talked to Valeria, and somehow the crew assigned to the floor accidentally released the whole floor before working it.”
My expression dropped. “How does that even happen? I hope she fired them after what they just put us through and the money the hotel just lost.”
He nodded. “They were placed on final notice.”
I groaned. “Meaning they still have another chance to do this all over again.”
“You did good,” he said, ignoring my comment. I knew he agreed with me. If any of the reception staff did something like that, they would be gone.
“Thank you. Are you heading out now?” I asked as I glanced to the clock. It was after five.
“Yes,” he said as he stood back up. “Hopefully everything is taken care of, and nothing else will pop up and you’ll have an easy night.”
“An easy night? We haven’t hit peak weeknight check-in yet, and I already need a huge Margarita.”
He gave me a rueful smile. “You get off at midnight.”
“That is way too many hours away, especially after the day I’ve already had.”
He gave me a thin-lipped smile. “Sorry.”
I shook my head. “No you’re not.”
He chuckled. “No, because I think I’ll go have one. I’ll think of you. Does that help?”
“Nope.”
“Goodnight, Emma.”
“See you later.” I stood and headed back out to the front desk and to Shannon and Jaqueline.
“Thank you so much, Emma,” Shannon said as she walked over to me.
“He was over the top.”
She laced her fingers together in front of her. “He was, and he just kept yelling. I couldn’t think.”
“You did fine,” I said, trying to calm her. “Why don’t you fill me in on what I missed?”
After talking with the two of them, I found that most of the other rooms had the basic dirty beds, dirty towels, and trash; the usual. After the first wave, we upgraded seventeen rooms and comped four of those. Not to mention all the perks we gave away, like free meals at the hotel restaurant.
The upgrades depleted most of our available rooms, as the hotel was at eighty-percent capacity.
All in all, it was one of those nights I hated being a supervisor. Sure, we’d dealt with the bulk of the guests, but it was only a short reprieve. Another small wave of people called or came down to talk about how their room hadn’t been serviced. We held lots of business travelers during the week. Luckily they were all current guests, so it was mostly minor things, and a few free breakfasts seemed to appease them.
The hotel was almost full before everything happened, and with the room exchanges, there wasn’t allowance for much more room switching or new guests.
The call of the Margarita was strong—or a shot of tequila—anything to take the edge off. I was waiting for the axe to drop on my shift, because with the slow rate at which housekeeping was getting through the floor, it was bound to happen.
On a quick break, I was able to look at my phone and read a few texts I’d received from James. One was a photo of Margarita mix next to a full bottle of tequila.
James: Tomorrow night?
I smiled before quickly typing back: Tease
James: Yes, but what about tomorrow night?
It was so hard to shoot him down, but we were stuck until I graduated and got out of the hotel. Sorry, but my manager put me on the schedule.
James: Damn that asshole. I’ll have to talk with him
A chuckle left me as I read his text, and I responded. You give that blond bastard in the mirror a right talking to.
James: Will do. Raincheck?
Emma: Hmm, you and me and a bottle of alcohol at your place? That spells trouble
Very enticing trouble, but trouble nonetheless. In the few dates we had two years ago, the chemistry had been there. We’d shared a few make-out sessions, but nothing more.
James: Trouble can be lots of fun
Emma: True, but trouble can also cost me my job
James: I’ll make sure your manager doesn’t know ;)
Emma: Yeah, I’m sure you will
For years we’d skirted the line between friendship and a romantic relationship, only to constantly be reminded that he was my boss, and therefore off limits. Then there was my schedule. I just didn’t have time for a relationship. Still, the flirting never stopped.
James: I can keep a secret
But not for long
I don’t want you to be a secret
My heart fluttered in my chest, and I bit my lip as I smiled down at the phone. I couldn’t wait until I was out of the Cameo for good. Not just for the more normal schedule, but because I could finally date James without it being a conflict and against company policy. Ever since the New Year, our flirting had picked up in anticipation that we could actually act on all the flirting in a few months’ time.
I closed up my locker and headed back out to the lobby to find out how things were going. It was almost seven, and check-ins had slowed down. I was about to head over to the lobby Starbucks when I looked toward the front door and was struck by the man walking in.
It was straight out of a movie—the scene where time slows down as the gorgeous stranger walks in, the wind blowing around him and a ballad playing in the background. He struts in, oozing sex and making all the women’s panties wet.
Yeah, it was one of those moments.
At least until he tripped on the floor mat and nearly tumbled to the ground. He straightened up as quickly as possible, glaring down at the flooring as he continued on, but it was too late. The three of us at the desk had seen it all and were now in love, even with the less-than-graceful entrance.
A little clumsiness was endearing, because with the aura he was giving off, I was pretty sure he could prove to me just how manly he was in many ways.
Jaqueline and Shannon snickered at his klutzy move, which he noticed right away.
He approached the desk, his eyes going between the three of us before staying on me. The eyes always scanned to me. After all, I had the more formal uniform and the title of supervisor printed on my name tag.
That, and the girls were still giggling.
Once again, I pulled out my best, friendliest smile. Though the friendliness well was running dry, I wasn’t sure I could look at him without smiling: sharp features, chestnut hair, broad shoulders, and full, kissable lips.
He wasn’t a vacationer—not with the way he was dressed: navy suit with pinstripe vest, Rolex watch, garment bag on his shoulder, and the iPhone that was glued to his hand with the car rental keys. Everything about him screamed, I’m here on business.
“Are tripping hazards a common thing in this hotel?” he asked.
It caught me off guard, and I just stared at him. “Sir?”
He motioned to the rug. “Your rug tripped me,” he said. No smile returned as he stared at me. He was curt and looked like a boardroom giant. “Someone failed to make sure it was laid properly.”
He was right—the rug was all wavy with the end curled up.
“I am so sorry, sir. I will get someone right away to get rid of that.” I shot a look over to Shannon, who immediately picked up a phone to dial maintenance to replace it. The curled end would continue to trip people if we didn’t get it out of the way.
He huffed, clearly annoyed. “I need to check in.”
“Name on the reservation?” I asked, not wasting any time. I was immediately in work mode.
“Grayson,” he replied, pulling out his identification and a credit card. I glanced at his ID and took in his full name and age—Gavin Grayson, thirty-five.
Damn, he didn’t look thirty-five. There wasn’t a line on his face.
I scanned the computer and found he was booked for two weeks. “Thank you, Mr. Grayson. I’ve found your reservation. It looks like you have one of our beautiful executive suites. You are all set up, so let me get your keys and a signature from you,” I said with a smile, taking small notice that he was staring at me.
I pulled the receipt from the printer and coded the keys. “Please sign here. You’ll be in room 1208. Elevators are across the hall. Once on the twelfth floor, you will take a right and your room will be on your right. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Grayson?”
He glanced over at Jaqueline and Shannon, who were still smiling at his trip. I watched his jaw clench, and he stared at me for a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he replied curtly, any fleeting cordiality gone.
I stayed extra friendly; his mood swing wasn’t going to get me down, especially since it was nothing compared to what I’d faced earlier in the day. “Thank you for staying with the Cameo Hotel. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thank you,” he said with a nod and headed toward the elevators, his large, expensive rolling suitcase in tow.
He was way out of my league, but it didn’t hurt to look. We received a lot of good-looking guests, along with celebrities, but he was in the top ten in the looks department. At least to me.
“Wow,” Jaqueline said from beside me. “Girl, I don’t know how you do it sometimes.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Be so professional all the time.”
I smiled and gave a little laugh. “Years of practice.”
We checked in another guest, and then Mr. Grayson appeared again. His face was twisted in fury, making the hackles on the back of my neck stand up.
“Are you fucking kidding me with that room?” he yelled once he was within a few feet.
“Sir?”
“It’s a fucking disaster! You people couldn’t even bother cleaning it between guests?”
The blood in my veins froze. Fuck. I was so enamored with him that I didn’t even notice his reservation had been defaulted to the cursed floor.
“I am so very sorry, sir.”
“I highly doubt that. Are you so incompetent you can’t even read the screen to show if a room has been cleaned?” he seethed.
“I apologize, we had an issue earlier—”
“I don’t care what you had . . . What’s your name . . .?” he trailed off and looked down at my name tag. “Emma. Emma, is there anywhere clean in this entire building?”
“I assure you that all of our rooms are very clean.”
“Not from what I just saw.”
“That was a very unfortunate incident,” I said as I scurried to upgrade him. With such limited availability, there wasn’t much I could do. “I sincerely apologize. I should have noticed the room number.”
His glare narrowed even more. “Yes, you should have.”
He was breaking my cool and my smile, but I forced it to remain intact as I quickly booked him into a slightly better room—it was one of the few left. Inside, I wanted to slap him for being such an ass, then shove the maid responsible at him and let him light into her.
“I’ve upgraded you to one of our executive suites with a water view,” I said as I coded new keys.
“Are you going to personally be responsible for the cleanliness of this room?”
I slipped the keys across the desk. “I can assure you, Mr. Grayson, it is a beautifully kept room.”
“We will see about that,” he sneered before storming off again.