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I’d found my next conquest.
No, no. Conquest sounded evil.
I’d found my next adventure. Better.
It was a busy night with people coming and going in all states of drunken happiness, although some were not so happy. One bunch of ladies were doing their best to escort a young woman who looked like she’d been crying for a week through the lobby.
Despite the amount of hurt I’d suffered at the hands of my cheating bastard ex-fiancé, I was proud to say I’d never made a spectacle of myself like that.
When the sun’s rays crept onto the marble lobby floor, it surprised me. Normally I checked the clock almost every twenty minutes or so. Not this shift, though.
I grabbed my green tea and sat outside to watch the sun breathe life into a new day. A tractor was on the beach, raking the sand for any rubbish left behind after yesterday’s festivities, and I wondered if anyone had found my engagement ring that I’d pegged from my balcony last week. I hoped so. At least it would put a smile on someone’s face.
Back behind the counter, I watched the clock tick past 6.30 a.m. and continued to study the plain black minute hand as I waited for my bastard boss to turn up. His constant tardiness was downright rude. It was more than that, though. He was the hotel manager—a person I should look up to. It was damn hard to respect someone who didn’t respect me.
Why did I tolerate it?
My alter-ego, Memphis, wouldn’t put up with that shit.
It was nearly seven o’clock when Needledick finally strolled through the door. My boiling blood heated my cheeks, and my jaw ached from clenching. I was way too close to taking him down with one of my karate moves that I had to make sure I kept my distance from him.
“Quiet night?” Needledick asked as he put his lunch on the counter.
His question couldn’t have been further from reality. I stepped up to him and smelled stale cigarettes as I poked my finger at his chest. “I will not put up with you being late any longer.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“You start at six-thirty, not six-thirty-five, not six-forty-five, and not”—I pointed at the clock— “seven o’clock. From now on, I walk off my shift no later than six-forty, whether you’re here or not!”
I turned on my heel and felt his dagger eyes on my back as I strode to the elevator. My heart pounded like a freight train as I waited an eternity for the stupid doors to open.
Once in the lift, I just about crumbled at the magnitude of what I’d done. Plain Jane did not have confrontations. But for the first time in my life, I stood up to someone.
Damn, that felt good.
By the time I reached my room, I was floating on an air of achievement. I was on top of the world. Ready for anything.
I was ready for David Lawson.
I showered and transformed myself into sexy, confident Memphis. This time, I chose to wear my silver, six-inch heels with rhinestones around the ankle strap. They weren’t exactly new, but I hadn’t worn them yet. It occurred to me that seven in the morning may not be the ideal time for shoes like these, but I decided to wear them anyway.
I felt good in these heels, sexy and in control, as I made my way up to David’s room on the sixth floor. At his door, I knocked, and my heart pounded in my ear as I waited for him to open the door. I couldn’t decide if I was excited or just a tiny bit terrified.
The door opened and I blinked up at him. He was much taller than I recalled. . . at least six-foot-six. “Can you help me please?”
“Oh, of course.” He glanced up and down the hall, frowning.
“May I come in?”
He ran his fingers over his mustache and under his chin. “Okay.”
I squeezed past him, and as I walked to his table, the door clicked closed. I stripped out of my trench coat and tossed it onto the table beside a large brown briefcase.
“What can I—” He stopped mid-sentence, and his jaw dropped at the sight of my French maid costume.
Happy with that reaction, I carried on with my ruse. “I hate being alone when I’m horny, and I was wondering if you’d stay with me while I pleasured myself.”
He blinked. Blinked again. Silence filled the room.
