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“Why not?”
“The assholes wouldn’t let me get on the high stakes tables,” I lie, offering a silent apology to Dominic and Carter. “I tried last night.”
He mutters a curse. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll make some calls.”
“Can I still get another week to pay you back?”
“Don’t push it, dollface.”
I hangup and get back to my laptop, replying to fan comments on Nicky’s Insta. I’m just about finished when there’s a knock on my door. I open it to find a petite Black woman standing there. She gives me a bright smile. “Hello, I’m Katrina Anderson. I’m the Director of Hospitality at the Grand River.”
“Gabriella Alves.”
We shake hands. “Everyone at the Grand River is delighted with Nicky Z’s run,” she says. “Mr. Crawford has requested that both Nicky Z and you be moved to the penthouse floor. You will be in the Rose Room.” She holds out a keycard.
“The penthouse floor?” I haven’t had the best dating experience in New York, and so, for a second, I wonder if Dominic thinks that upgrading my hotel room is the best way into my pants. Then I dismiss that thought as unworthy. I don’t know Dominic well, but the man is delicious. He doesn’t need to bribe anyone with a fancy room to get them to jump into his bed.
“Yes. I’m sorry we weren’t able to arrange this at check-in, Ms. Alves. Please call down to the front desk when you are ready to move, and a bellhop will carry your luggage up. There is a small private gym on your floor, as well as a pool and a sauna. Your keycard will give you access.”
I imagine walking in on Dominic and Carter working out, their hard muscles gleaming with sweat. I picture them pushing me down on a gym bench. Spreading my legs, lowering their mouths to my body… My throat goes dry, and I swallow hard. “Thank you,” I murmur. “This is very kind.”
“It’s the least we can do.” She hands me her business card. “Please enjoy your stay at the Grand River, and if there’s anything I can do to ensure your comfort, please let me know.”
The Rose Room is nice.
It is easily ten times the size of my old room, and contrary to what the name implies, it’s more of a suite than a room. The living room has a pair of comfortable couches, a massive TV, and a desk set up by the window, with a view of the ocean.
There’s a separate bedroom with a king-size bed, velvet drapes, and more ocean views. The bathroom alone is bigger than my apartment in New York. There’s a giant tub. Big enough for three, temptation whispers in my ear. The three of you could…
I banish that wicked voice and return to the living room. A dozen pale yellow rosebuds adorn the coffee table. I look for a card, but there isn’t one. I’m assuming they’re from Dominic, although maybe they’re part of the standard room amenities at the Grand River. Their delicate fragrance fills the room.
I can’t remember the last time a guy sent me flowers. It hasn’t happened in the five years I’ve lived in New York.
Thoughts of Carter and Dominic have been flitting at the edges of my mind all day. I sink into the couch and stare at the roses, and allow myself, just for an instant, to daydream. What would happen if I surrender to temptation? What would it be like? Would it be sex and nothing else? Would we go on dates? Would we kiss, or just fuck?
This is stupid.
My stomach grumbles. I forgot to eat lunch. Great. Now I’m skipping meals because I’m so horny I can’t think straight. I mean, I could stand to lose more than a few pounds, but still. I don’t typically forget to eat. Stupid gorgeous guys.
I shut my laptop and head downstairs. I’m not ready to run into Carter and Dominic, not when my head is so messed up, and my emotions seesaw all over the place. I head outside. There’s a diner across the street. A neon sign in the window assures me that it’s open, and a large poster on the window advertises the best apple pie on the East Coast.
Sugar. That’s the solution to what ails me. Not apple pie by itself—while I love the filling, the crust does nothing for me. But apple pie with ice cream? Warm sugary apples, smooth, creamy vanilla? Mmm. Yes, I’ll have to spend hours in the gym to work it off, but if it keeps me from jumping into bed with Carter and Dominic, it would have been worth it.
I cross the street. It’s half-past four. It’s an odd hour, too late for lunch, and a little too early for dinner, and there are no cars in the diner’s small parking lot. I push open the door and walk in…
…And stop dead in my tracks.
Only one booth is occupied.
Carter turns around when the door opens. Dominic lifts his head up and stares at me. A slow smile curves his lips. “Gabriella,” he says. “Hi.”
I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in destiny, and I don’t believe in magic. But if this isn’t magic, then what is it?
The Grand River has six restaurants. It has Michelin-starred chefs. Dominic owns the place. Carter runs its security. The two of them could eat anywhere. What are the odds that they are here, just the two of them, in this diner that has clearly seen better days?
I am tugged to them, a moth drawn inexorably to the flame.
“Hi,” I reply. I suck in a breath. “Can I join you?”
