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Jace stopped the car and stepped out. She hopped out, too, and took her backpack off the floorboard. With this much beauty surrounding her, she looked like a peasant in her scruffy clothes, not to mention her wounds and bruises. Jace opened the hatch and grabbed his duffel before he threw his keys to a nearby valet.
He pointed two fingers from his eyes to the young employee. “I don’t care if the back window is already cracked—scratch this baby and you’re dead.”
The valet nodded, as if he often received death threats from random guests. Maybe there were a lot of uptight car owners in this part of the city.
“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take good care of it,” the valet said.
Jace gave the guy a pointed look, but he must have been satisfied, since he shoved a majorly generous tip into the valet’s hand turned and walked toward the entrance.
She hurried after him.
With the marble flooring and the crisp clean atmosphere, the hotel was absolutely stunning. Jace strode right up to the front desk clerk and dropped his duffel bag on the ground, then pulled a thick wad of bills from inside his coat pocket. Frankie choked back a laugh at the contrast between his rough and tough appearance and the postmodern décor. The clerk’s eyes widened as she eyed Jace up and down. Her attention jumped between Jace and the bills, then she took more time with his face and his clothes. Frankie wasn’t sure whether the visual examination was prompted by Jace’s rugged appearance or his divinely handsome face.
He slapped the wad of bills on the countertop. “We need a room. Give me the nicest one you’ve got.”
The clerk blinked several times, interrupted by her examination of Jace. “Excuse me?”
He sighed, then leaned forward on the counter and overly articulated each word. “Give me the best room you have.”
The woman just stood there.
Frankie stepped up to the counter and nudged him aside. “I think what he’s trying to say is, could you please tell us the best room you have available?” She flashed the girl a sweet smile, careful not to show off her sharp, protruding canines.
The clerk shook her head a little to wake herself up before she turned to her computer. The click of her fingernails against the keyboard combated the canned piano music playing in the background.
Finally, the woman cleared her throat. “Besides the penthouse, the top room we have available is the Town—”
“We’ll take it.”
“All right, the Townsend suite—”
“No, the penthouse.”
The clerk’s mouth fell open a little, and Frankie whirled around. “What?”
Jace ignored her and shoved the money across the counter. “You heard me. The penthouse. If you get me the key in less than two minutes, I’ll give you an even bigger tip than that.” He slapped five hundred-dollar bills on the counter, then glanced up at the clock. “Starting… now.”
The woman grabbed the phone and punched in a string of numbers while mumbling under her breath. Jace flung an ID over the counter—probably a fake one—and continued his countdown.
Frankie’s jaw dropped. “What the hell was that all about?”
“We don’t have any time to waste. Not with other divisions already coming at us like that.” He gave her a pointed look.
Shock flew through her, and she battled her jaw to keep it from dropping. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m referring to the fact that you just booked the penthouse at the Imperial. I mean… Jace, for lack of a better term, you live in a crash pad of an apartment.”
“I told you, that’s the burner. I just sleep there sometimes.”
“And is your regular apartment any better?”
He snorted. “Fuck no.”
When she continued to stare at him, he lifted a brow.
“And?”
“And how are you going to afford this?”
He picked up his duffel bag from the floor and tapped the bills on the counter. “You think I stole this, don’t you?” he asked, too soft for the clerk to hear.
