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I shouldn’t feel jealous. But who am I kidding? I’m a nobody. The maid. Noah would never consider me for something serious. Neither would his brother or his partners. We’re just fooling around, screwing each other’s brains out and that’s pretty much it. Samantha is more of a total package. Rich, pretty, childless…
“She’s an heiress,” Connie whispers. “Never did an honest day’s work in her life. Her daddy owns part of the state’s railroad network, among other things. Grandparents had oil businesses across Texas. An obnoxious creature, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, that much I can tell.”
“You be careful around her,” she warns me. “She’s got a mouth on her, and she’s never happy. And may the Lord have mercy on Noah, too. He’s gonna have to put up with her for a whole month.”
“Why, though?” I ask, watching Samantha as she continues with a meaningless conversation in order to keep Noah around, even though he is just trying to be polite while constantly eyeing the coffee bar. “Why can’t he just get himself busy and out of her way?”
“She’s hell bent on marrying him. And her father has enough juice in him to cause trouble for the Elizabeth if Noah gets on her bad side,” Connie says. “I heard the twins talking about her the last time she came around. The Kendricks may be loaded and whatnot, but O’Shaughnessy is farther up the totem pole and with enough friends in the local government to make it harder on us. You know, a regulation here, an inspection there… it’s easy to poke holes in a hotel if you look hard enough.”
My stomach churns as I understand the complexity of this situation. Noah doesn’t look excited, but he’s still smiling and talking to her. Maybe he does like Samantha, just not enough to—what the hell am I doing, thinking such things? I have no claim over this man, nor his brother nor his partners. Who am I to crinkle my nose at the women they surround themselves with? Ah, this is the moment I’ve been dreading since I first let them take me. The awakening. The sharp bite of reality.
It gets worse when Noah’s gaze wanders across the room while Samantha keeps talking about organizing a trip down to the beach for the weekend. “Just the two of us,” she says. “I’ll have the concierge prepare us a nice picnic basket. Caviar, champagne, some cheese and grapes, strawberries and cream.”
“Sounds nice,” Noah mumbles, his eyes finding mine. “Except it’s winter. Who goes on a picnic in winter?”
Instantly, I look away and push the linen cart out of sight. I leave him talking to Samantha, though I feel him watching me until I disappear into the maids’ section with Connie right behind me. I’m shaking like a leaf as I hide in a corner and take deep breaths.
“Are you okay, Stella? You look a little pale,” Connie asks.
I give her a reassuring nod. “Yeah, I think I’m just hungry. Come on, what else do we have to do before our shift ends? I want to take my kids down to the beach when we’re done.”
“The lounge room, the cigar room, and the evening terrace. And that’s it for the day,” Connie replies, watching me closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m hangry, Connie. I’ve been hangry for the past hour,” I lie through my teeth.
She shrugs and helps me load the cleaning carts with other stuff we’ll need for the leisure rooms. I can almost imagine Samantha still hanging around Noah even as I try to get on with the rest of my shift. But I might as well face it. Reality has a way of coming back to bite me in the ass, to remind me of my place in this world. Yeah, sure, I spent a day in the Hamptons with these wonderful guys.
They’re not going to marry me. They’re not going to spend the rest of their lives with me. This is just a fling, a raunchy little thing that is supposed to take my mind off the hot mess that is my current existence. I was naive to allow myself to think otherwise.
10
Stella
Half an hour later, I’m in the cigar room. Corinne is covering the terrace, with only a few minutes left on the clock for our shift. I’m done, anyway, merely dusting the cigar boxes as I contemplate the future ahead. Soft jazz music plays in the background, pouring through the wall-mounted speakers.
I run my fingers along the back of a wingback chair, one of twenty in the room. It’s supposed to be a relaxation area for the gentlemen, with thick doors and a separate opening to the back terrace. There used to be more smoking in previous decades, though lately the trend has dwindled even here. They still stock the cigar boxes on a monthly basis, but the guests usually just come over to chill with a glass of brandy while their wives and kids explore the beaches.
Would I have been happier if I’d grown up in a place like this? Samantha strikes me as a nightmarish creature, entitled and hypocritical, doing charity just for the headlines and spending daddy’s money on expensive getaways. Would I have turned out like her? Does it even matter? I didn’t have her upbringing, nor her parents, so why does it bother me?
I know why it bothers me. It’s because her privilege makes her an adequate match for Noah, the kind of man I’d gladly fall in love with. For Isaac, too. Beau. Levi. What would they do with me, anyway? What, a five-way marriage? That’s ludicrous. I need to get that out of my head. It’s stupid and unrealistic. Not to mention I have two kids to raise. Two beautiful kids who deserve the attention I’m currently wasting on this situation.
The door opens, and I almost drop the dust cloth when I see Noah come in.
“Hey,” I mumble, lowering my gaze.
“Hey, yourself. What’s up with you?” Noah asks, closing the door before walking closer.
“Nothing, just working,” I reply.
He catches up before I can move away with the cleaning cart. “No, there is definitely something up with you, Stella. Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing up with me,” I snap and yank myself out of his grip. “Isn’t your new guest waiting for you? I’m trying to finish up so I can spend the rest of the day with my children.”
I can feel him watching me even with my back turned. I hear him chuckling softly, and it only irritates me as I shake my head and try to leave the cigar room again. Noah slips around and towers above me. I have no choice but to look up, tilting my head back. His blue eyes are slightly hooded. He smiles as he analyzes my expression carefully.
“You’re jealous,” he says.
