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“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I. I can hardly say no when for the last two weeks, I’ve been fucking Farah in accounts.”
“You’re a fucking liability.” I sigh.
He grins and hooks his hands behind his head. “Tell me you haven’t considered fucking her, and I’ll leave it alone.”
I tilt my head enough to lock eyes with him. “She’s an employee,” I state, coldly.
“So?” He shrugs. “Rewrite your policies—problem solved.” I drop my head and groan. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” He nods towards the sofa. “I can check on her for the next few hours. She’ll probably wake up soon anyway.”
I prefer her when she is asleep and not glaring at me.
I prefer her a hell of a lot more than I do any other of my employees.
Chapter6
Lauren
Astream of crisp morning light pours in through the windows, rousing me awake. I blink in my surroundings, mildly confused but equally as comfy, and I allow my mind to succumb to the soft pleasure sliding over my limbs. Rolling over, I stretch out in the big bed and burrow into the plump cushions because I don’t have this kind of luxury at home—miles of mattress greet me, and I sigh blissfully. I’ve slept solidly for hours if the sunlight is anything to go by. Checking my phone, I find it’s coming up to half past seven. I’ve had nearly fifteen hours of sleep. I do feel better. I lay still for a moment, allowing my mind to catch up, and I groan with embarrassment when I recall fainting like an idiot at my boss’s feet. The arrogant ass is probably used to it. Throwing the quilt back, I take my time sitting up. Nausea is still an unwelcome friend, and so it takes me several minutes to allow the sensation to pass as my abused forehead aches dully. I need a shower to erase the lethargy.
It’s not often I get to enjoy the benefits of the hotel, so I decide to make the most of it and use the en-suite, which makes a mockery of my out-of-date bathroom. The shower is huge. Grinning, I strip out of my underwear and get in, turning the water onto full power. The powerful stream catches me off guard, choking me. “Bloody hell!” I splutter, staggering out from under the spray. These things need a health warning. “Luxury, my ass,” I grouse, pressing at my bruised face. Dammit, that hurts. After a few minutes, I manage to find where best to stand and let the water pound my body. It’s heaven, pure, delicious heaven. Groaning, I tilt my neck as aches and pains that have been deep-rooted ease away.
My face is going to look a mess, and I have no makeup to cover it up. Maybe I can call Amberley to bring some to work with her? I stay under the spray for an age and finally get out, wrapping myself in the fluffy arrangement of towels on offer. I did notice a coffee machine in the room when Perry first escorted me in last night. I’m going to have a drink and then meet Amberley before I leave.
I’m browsing the different coffees when the door clicks open, and Cain saunters in uninvited. I’m about to tell him to get out when his eyes widen, but I soon realise it’s because of my face and not my attire. “Fuck,” he hisses and strides to me, tilting my chin up. His fingers are smooth and large against my petite face. He’s wearing another crisp suit. However, he is yet to complete the look with a tie, and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. My eyes zero in on his tan flesh, the smattering of hair visible. He knocks my chin up, and I blush deeply like a naughty child caught peeking at a wrapped present. I swallow as his lips twitch.
Embarrassed, I furrow my brow and square my jaw. “Good morning to you, too.” I flick my brow up and wait for him to acknowledge me in a polite manner. I’m still angry about his attitude, and for all the grandeur of his hotel and his sparkling reputation, his personality is abysmal. He frowns as he inspects my face, tilting my chin just so. I dip and look away because I’m a mess, but his grip tightens, and he turns my face back. He steps in, and my eyes pop as those azure irises browse my face with irritated concern.
“Good morning, Lauren,” he muses, a telltale smirk playing at the corners of his full mouth. “I hadn’t realised how bad your face was,” he says, his hands leveraging my chin.
“Another unfortunate genetic,” I say dryly. His eyes snap to mine, and I wait for him to apologise. He has to, surely? I’ve given him the perfect opportunity to address it. His thumb traces the bruises, and my breath skates over his arm before dancing back over my skin.
“Perry has arranged for breakfast to be sent to your room.” The pig-headed tosser. Clenching my jaw, I tug my face free and turn away from him. I think I’m actually starting to hate him.
“Okay.” My response leaves little room for further conversation. I select a coffee capsule and load it into the machine. It whirrs and hisses and the rich scent of coffee fills the room. I’m surprised I can smell it with the amount of swelling around my eyes and nose.
“You can have the rest of the week off to recoup. Should you feel well enough, you can return to work as normal on Monday,” he informs me coolly. I stare at my coffee and close my eyes. After he demanded The Grande cancel my interview, and I further missed my call back for the waitressing job, I’m not looking too good as a prospective employee. Financially, I’m not in the position to throw away a job when there is one for the taking. One I love. Going home is not an option. I would be stupid and immature to refuse his offer.
“Thank you.” My voice is quiet. I don’t want to be thanking someone who can’t apologise for their terrible behaviour. Silence bats between us as I focus on my drink, but my eyes betray me and lift to the window where they pin onto the reflection of my boss standing with his hands tucked in his trousers, watching me quietly. My boss, who looks like he is ready to rock the runway and give any photographer heart palpitations. His eyes burn back at me, and I suck in a whisper-quiet breath as he shifts on the spot. He’s far closer than I realised.
“Morning!” The door crashes open, and Perry bulldozes his way in. I jump and rip my gaze away from the heated stare of my boss. He really hates me—the intensity burning off him, the fierce lines slashed on either side of his face as he locks his jaw. I collect up my mug and hold it tightly in both hands to disguise the tremor.
“You know there is a way to open a door without ripping it off its hinges,” I mutter, turning to rest my bum against the cabinet. He sniggers and wheels over a breakfast cart.
“Hey, alien.” He gives me a cheeky grin, and I catch Cain gritting his teeth. Perry squeezes his way in between us both and pops his own coffee capsule in. “You look like shit,” he says without thought. “Well rested shit,” he blurts when I snap back, offended.
“Oh, because that’s so much better!” Scoffing, I take my coffee and move to the laid-out dining table. I hadn’t really taken full stock of the room when I was escorted in here last night. It is, in fact, a suite. I stop and look around slowly, taking it all in. It's very masculine, with rich dark colours and ample seating. Come to think of it, the toiletries aren’t supplied by the hotel but are personal. I sniff a tendril of hair discreetly and smell the distinct tones of sandalwood.
“Ta-da!” Perry whips the lid off the trolley.
It’s packed high with a variety of breakfast options: pancakes, fruit, pastries, bacon and eggs. “I can’t eat all that!” I stare at Cain, shocked.
“It’s a good job it’s not just for you then,” he drawls and pulls out a chair for himself, Perry transfers it all to the table, and I watch in horror as they both take their seats, expecting me to sit with them. I blink at Perry, and he gives a subtle incline of his head, encouraging me to sit.
“Don’t be a grump. It’s the least you can do after you stole Cain's room.” He smirks, pointing a knife in Cain’s direction—my boss’s room?
“What?” But he called downstairs to arrange the room. I may have been a bit out of it last night, but I remember that much. “But you…” I stutter. “This is your room?” I shrink under my boss’s cool gaze.
