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Ididn’t think finding him after our plane had landed would be an issue, but as hard as I try, I can’t find him anywhere.
After waiting in the terminal for fifteen minutes, I decide to give up the hunt and make my way outside the doors to find my driver, spotting a gray-haired man in a black suit holding up a placard with my name on it.
“Hey. I’m Alyssa,” I say, coming to a stop in front of him.
“Good evening Ms. Jacobs. Let me take your luggage and we’ll be on our way,” the driver with a thick British accent announces before opening the door to the black Lincoln Town Car and shutting me inside. I watch as he stows my bags in the trunk then slides behind the steering wheel with ease.
“Do you know where you’re taking me?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be arriving at the Sovereign Hotel shortly,” the driver replies before starting the car and pulling away from the curb, heading in the direction of the Strip.
I’m grateful for the lack of conversation because it gives me time to think about the mysterious Mr. Matthews. I still don’t know his first name, something that’ll make tracking him down near on impossible. Frustrated as hell—both sexually and otherwise—I kick myself for getting my hopes up that I might see him again, or that he’d be a man of his word and would’ve waited for me at the airport.
Even now, the way he’d spoken, the words he used to describe exactly what he wanted to do to me—andhow—has me blushing in the best way. He had me intrigued with one look and hooked with the sound of his voice whispering dirty promises in my ear. I was planning to play whatever game he wanted to, but it obviously was not meant to be. Resting my forehead against the car window as the bright lights flash on by, a defeated sigh escapes me.
Maybe he’s one of those men who like the thrill of the chase and not the reward of the catch. Someone who likes to play the game and talk the talk but not follow through. Since I’ll likely never find out his motivation either way, there’s no point dwelling on it I guess.
“Ms. Jacobs, we’re here,” the driver announces, interrupting me from my thoughts.
Before I know it, he’s at my side of the car and is holding the door open for me.
“Thank you,” I say before turning to take in the opulent glass-to-roof doors leading into the hotel.
“Your luggage is with the porter, Ms. Jacobs. They’ll arrange for it to be taken up to your room.” I turn and hand the driver a tip before my gaze slides back to the stunning architecture in front of me. A building I know to be an Alexander Richardson masterpiece, a top architecture firm out of San Francisco. It truly is a jewel on a crown full of shiny counterparts, but there’s something about this design, this building, that is truly breathtaking, and a far cry from older resorts at the other end of the Strip.
As I make my way inside the lobby, I struggle to find a word big enough to convey the sheer magnificence of the building. A huge white glowingShangs from the roof, a custom chandelier illuminating the lobby with reflecting letters shining off the walls. A path of white marble tiles encased in black granite flooring lead the way toward the hotel’s reception desk where immaculately dressed staff in all black, tailored uniforms wait to serve. The women in fitted pencil dresses and perfectly styled hair, the men in matching tailored shirts, vests and slacks with pristine black dress shoes the icing on the opulent, luxurious cake.
There’s no doubt how much attention to detail was put into the design of this hotel. Everything, right down to the throw pillows on the couches and the signature decals on every possible fixture, has obviously been chosen with meticulous precision to ensure that the Sovereign experience is second to none.
“Hi. I’d like to check in, please. My name is Alyssa Jacobs,” I say when I reach the check-in desk.
“Good evening Ms. Jacobs. We’ve been expecting you,” she replies with a courteous smile. “You’re one of our VIPs for this weekend and will be staying in a penthouse suite.”
My head jerks as my brows knit together. “I don’t understand.”
The clerk looks down to her computer then back up at me, her forehead pinched in frustration. “I’m sorry, Ms. Jacobs. It states here that you are to be taken straight up to the seventieth floor.”
“There must be a mistake,” I continue. I never in a million years expected Gavin to spoil me like this, and the extravagance of the gesture has me feeling a little uneasy if I’m honest. There’s a big difference between taking care of arrangements and going out of his way to try and impress me. If my mother hadn’t told me about how good of a man he is and how well he treats her, I would almost be suspicious.
“There’s no mistake, Ms. Jacobs. If you follow Kyle. . .” she smiles at the man now standing beside me, “. . . he’ll escort you to your suite.”
Turning to look at Kyle, I realize that when deciding what was important for the aesthetics of the hotel, employing extremely attractive staff was apparently high on the list. Every single attendant I’ve seen is model-like. “Okay.”
The hotel clerk looks over my shoulder, nodding at something or someone before gifting them a huge radiant smile and I realize I’ve been dismissed. So with nothing else to do, I follow Kyle toward the bank of elevators, but before I can see who she’s aiming it at.
After the fastest ride of my life, and having tipped Kyle for his service, I stand alone in the middle of what I can only describe as a mansion in the sky wondering what else could possibly happen today to scramble my brain.
But as it is, an hour after sharing air space with the mysterious Mr. Matthews, he is still forefront in my mind, and I tingle everywhere important when his dirty promises come back to me.
“If I had my way, I’d ask you to meet me in the restroom, where I'd proceed to lock the door, spin you around to the mirror, and order you to watch my hand disappear under your dress as I touch you everywhere but where you desperately want me the most, torturing you until you were a dripping mess begging me to take you hard.”
God, just the thought of him touching me—anywhere—has me imagining everything else we could’ve shared. I would let that man do whatever he wanted to me, with me.onme. He could be a minute man and the most selfish lover and it still would’ve been worth it because there’s no doubt in my mine that any time with him would make up for anything he lacked.
“I’d like to propose a game.”
I’d been all ready to play with him too. That voice, that body, those eyes . . . the whole package had me hook, line, and sinker the moment I saw him. The flirting back and forth between us just sealed the deal.
Alas, it was obviously not meant to be. Like a ninja in the night, he all but disappeared at the airport.
