Damien
I'd always had my doubts about her sincerity, and today confirmed everything.
Her loyalty to the hotel had seemed too genuine, too... convenient. Now I understood why. She worked for my stepmother.
Why she'd decided to stage that ridiculous scene in my room, falling asleep like some helpless damsel, was still unclear. But the evidence was right in front of me.
Her eyes had widened when she looked up and saw me standing at the end of the corridor. I'd bet she wasn't expecting to be caught red-handed, conspiring with the woman who'd been trying to destroy me for years.
"Isn't she the lady…" Jack started beside me, but I didn't wait to hear him finish.
I was furious.
This woman had almost gotten to me with her act of innocence. She'd nearly fooled me with those exhausted eyes and that desperate need to apologize.
“No. You fell for it,” my brain taunted mercilessly. “You actually fell for it.”
"Mr. T!"
I cursed under my breath. She was really pushing her luck.
"Mr. T!" Her voice grew closer.
I despised anyone who got in my way. Especially people who played games.
"Mr. T!!"
That was it.
I stopped walking and slowly turned around, working hard to keep my fury controlled. I wasn't going to let her know how angry she made me or how close I'd come to believing her performance. Though keeping that rage contained was getting increasingly difficult with every passing second.
She was panting by the time she reached us, her face so pale. Her eyes were sunken with dark circles she'd tried desperately to conceal with makeup. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.
My stepmother knew how to choose her pawns.
Desperate people. They'd do anything for money.
"Mr. T, I'm... I'm sorry," she gasped out, trying to catch her breath. "I know you don't want to talk to me, and I know I've been a complete disaster since the moment you arrived, but I need to explain about what happened in your room. I was exhausted, which is no excuse, I know, but I fell asleep during my rounds and I should have been more careful. And then I attacked you, which was absolutely inexcusable, and Matthew got suspended because of me, and I know I've been following you around trying to apologize but you keep walking away, and I just need you to know how sorry I am. About everything. About attacking you and about Matthew and about ruining your suit with wine at the bar, and I promise I'm not usually this much of a walking catastrophe, but everything's been falling apart and I…"
The words tumbled out of her in a breathless rush, rapidly chipping away at my resolve with each syllable.
"Mr. T, I'm really, really…"
"You're a nuisance."
That got her to shut up.
Her eyes widened, her mouth falling slightly open as she stared at me in shock.
"You're incompetent, unprofessional, dumb and downright reckless. Don't show your face to me ever again."
The words came out harsher than I'd intended, but I let my anger slip through anyway. Now she'd go running back to my stepmother to report that her little spy had been made. My stepmother would send another puppet, and another, just like she always did.
I turned and walked away, leaving her standing there in the hallway.
The anger followed me throughout the rest of the day. My stepmother had infiltrated this place just like she'd infiltrated all our establishments. And as much as I didn't want to admit it, the fact remained that she was gaining the upper hand.
After several grueling meetings with investors, I went straight to the VIP lounge to decompress.
I didn't know why this particular puppet of my stepmom bothered me so much. Nothing had actually happened. I'd caught it before it could go anywhere.
“You were actually looking forward to seeing her,” my brain stated with painful clarity. “Watching her hide from you, fumble with her words, get clumsy and spill things. Remember how you held yourself back from smiling that time at the bar?”
It was just to pass the time, I told myself.
“Was it?”
"Yes!" I said out loud, reaching for my tie and yanking it off in frustration.
I unbuttoned the top buttons of my shirt and rolled up my sleeves, then collapsed onto the plush lounge sofa, letting my head fall back against the cushions.
For a moment, I allowed the exhaustion to wash over me.
I was tired. So damn tired.
All my life, I'd been looking over my shoulder, trusting no one, not even Jack, who'd been my assistant since I took over Thorne. I'd learned early that everyone had a price and could be bought at any time.
It was lonely at the top, but I was used to it.
My mother had left the world far too early. My father had soon after embraced his one true love and his illegitimate son, while I was shipped off to boarding school because I "wasn't getting along" with my stepbrother.
I'd only had Grandfather. But even he was slipping away. Alzheimer’s was slowly stealing the man I admired most.
I'd been betrayed too many times to count. And every single time, something inside me chipped away a little more, leaving me more isolated.
But I wouldn't back down. I wouldn't let them win.
If I'd learned anything from Grandfather, it was resilience and an unbreakable will.
A knock on the door pulled me from my spiraling thoughts.
"Come in."
One of the concierges walked in carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and a glass. She wasn't wearing the standard uniform. Instead, she had on a dress that hugged every curve and featured a neckline low enough to be considered inappropriate for work.
I recognized her immediately. The woman from the bar who'd been throwing herself at me. I scoffed when I remembered what she had done to…
I stopped that thought before it could form completely.
"Stop. I'll do it myself," I said as she started uncorking the wine.
"Of course." She set the bottle down. "Is there anything else you need, sir?"
"No. That'll be all."
I looked up when she didn't move and found her staring down at me from beneath hooded eyes.
I had no idea what expression I was wearing that she interpreted as an invitation, but she moved closer.
"Sir, I'm here to serve all your needs," she purred, emphasizing the “all”.
"You look exhausted," she continued, reaching out and placing a manicured hand on my chest. I heard her sharp intake of breath when her palm made contact with my chest.
"I can help you relieve all that stress. Just tell me what you need." Her hand moved lower, rubbing across my chest and down my torso. "Although I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Or in this case..." She smiled coyly. "Down my zipper."
She pulled the zipper that ran down the center of her dress. Her breasts practically spilled out, as if they'd been begging to be let out.
"Like what you see?" She slid her hand down to my trousers, placing it directly over my groin.
I slowly grabbed her wrist and leaned close to her ear.
"Get out."
"What?" Her confident demeanor cracked, replaced by confusion.
"I said get out."
"But I thought…"
I reached out, grabbed the empty tumbler, and hurled it at the wall. It shattered against the wall.
"Get OUT!"
She jumped back in fear, clutching her dress closed, and practically ran from the room.
I dragged a frustrated hand down my face, the exhaustion overwhelming me now. I picked up the wine bottle, uncorked it, and took several long swallows directly from the bottle before collapsing back onto the sofa.
Just when I thought I might finally get some peace, another knock came at the door.
"Concierge, with your replacement glass, sir," came a soft, nervous voice.
I never asked for a replacement glass.
"Go away!" I barked.
But the knocking continued.
I could feel the headache building with each knock, each second of this intrusion on the only moment of solitude I'd had all day.
When I couldn't take it anymore, I stormed to the door and flung it open.
"Are you DEAF?!"
The clumsy, infuriating woman stood there, wide-eyed, staring up at me.