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The beautiful “A-list celebrity” touches in his suite—everything from the bright red and blue accents in all the vases to the “royal” tea collection and embroidered letters—weren’t standard. They were there by design.
The “manager” we crossed in the parking garage, the same man who looked exactly like the ride attendant at The Great Wheel was now standing far behind William.
Something he’d said when we saw him sounded somewhat odd, but now I understood.
“Without proper coverage? Or the slightest advance notice?”
His reasons for wanting to skip the club, to avoid the crowd at his hotel, and to “pretend the typical rules don’t apply tonight” all made sense now.
Holy fucking shit.
Needing some fresh air, I parted through the sea of drooling co-workers, making my way toward the closest exit.
“Chloe March?” Hazel’s voice stopped me dead in my tracks. “Chloe, why are you leaving?”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I turned around to see everyone staring at me. William smirked from the stage.
“I’m uh…Um, just running to the ladies’ room,” I muttered.
“Come on up here with us!” She waved. “There’s something special I need to say to you in front of everyone.”
I stood still, not moving.
“Come on, don’t be shy! That’s not your personality!”
Someone pushed me forward. Then someone else, then someone else.
My body made it to the stage without any of my efforts; it was all via a sad version of crowd surfing.
I forced myself to walk up the steps, and Tyler extended his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss March,” he said, his voice low.
“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Tyler Carrington.”
He smiled, and a familiar, electric jolt shot through my veins as his fingers lingered against mine for a little too long.
Slowly letting go of him, I looked over at Hazel.
“Chloe, there’s no one here who deserves a promotion more than you,” Hazel spoke into the mic, “You are by far, the most talented person on my team, and as our new director of management, you will now report directly to Mr. Carrington.”
What? I swallowed. How the hell is this a promotion?
“It breaks my heart to let you go, but you’re meant for much bigger things.” She waited for the loud applause in the room to soften. “Can you take Mr. Carrington backstage for a brief second and show him how we like to welcome our newest team members?”
I nodded, completely numb.
She waved me away, and I motioned for Willam-Tyler-Liar to follow me backstage and into the sound room.
“There,” I said, pointing to the huge golden guest book. “You sign your name—whichever one you feel like using today, that is—and then you smile for the camera and say, ‘I’m not a regular reader. I’m a rogue reader.’”
“Hmmm.” He pulled a pen from his pocket and walked over to the book, signing his name as “Tyler” and nothing more.
Then he stared at me, looking me up and down like he did the night we first met. It was the same lust-filled gaze that made me tell him to fuck me without protection, a gaze so powerful that it almost made me want to drop all inhibitions and screw him all over again. Right here, right now.
I snapped out of the trance as he tucked his pen away. I needed to get a firm grip on reality.
