I turn back toward the house.
The top floor is still empty inside even though I expect that seven billion camera flashes are suddenly going to erupt from behind me.
My cock keeps getting harder, causing my mouth to runitself. “To answer your question from earlier, yes, I like your self-portrait.”
“I can draw one of you if you want. It would look fucking amazing,” he says with a cocky lilt in his voice that I like. “Proud of you, by the way. You seem so much more relaxed than you were last year.”
I puff out a short laugh, shaking my head. “I’m faking it, Chase.”
I’m completely faking it.
And you make me feel like my body is touching a live wire.
“Mm. Guess that’s why they tossed you the Emmys,” he says, leaning back from the camera again. “Good at acting.”
“Yo. Buddy,” I hear from behind me and I turn to see Charlie walking out onto the balcony with a drink in hand. “You coming downstairs so I can whoop your ass in a round of pool?”
Suddenly I’m Logan Stone, the actor, again.
“I’ve got to go,” I tell Chase, looking back at the phone. “Sorry.”
“All good,” he says softly. He makes a kissy face with his lips and flashes me a peace sign, hanging up before I do.
CHAPTER 14
CHASE
I don’t usually do things that are illegal, per se. But I will take any opportunity I can to bend the rules.
You’re not legally supposed to open anyone else’s mail.
But there’s no written rule about not opening little envelopes that are attached to little serving trays full of expensive caviar, caprese sticks, and various little desserts.
So fuck it.
I slip my finger beneath the upper fold of the green and gold envelope, one of the premium ones on Bellwood Hotel stationery. It’s attached to a tray that will be going up to Logan’s suite shortly. The flap isn’t sealed shut, just tucked in, so it opens easily. I slide out the card inside, reading the neat cursive.
Logan Stone,
Please enjoy this complimentary gift. We are pleased that you’ve chosen the Bellwood Hotel for your second stay in New York.
Don’t hesitate to call with any needs.
-The Bellwood Staff
I haven’t spoken to Logan in a week.
The last I heard from him was the video call where headmitted he was considering doing a nude photoshoot, which I still can’t wrap my mind around.
I got off to the idea of it a few times this week, which I only felt slightly guilty about.
I pull out the pen I keep in my waist apron for labeling shit in the kitchen. I push the card up against the wall and write along the bottom of it:
And if you have any further needs or desires, a member of our kitchen staff will be happy to provide for your needs in a very discreet manner, at no extra cost. Xo
P.S. I’m still a photographer. A very talented one.
My handwriting is way cooler than the stuffy cursive.
