The Hotel 2 (The Billionaire Seduction) (9 page)

He doesn’t seem worried
about it, either, as he keeps me intimately close to his side.

The grand lobby is flooded with
Chicago’s society, mingling and perusing displays set up along
the walls. Dominic heads to the middle of the room, but I pull back
as something catches my eye.

“Look at this.”

A series of blown up canvases are
artfully lined up on the wall, each displaying handwritten book
entries from famous guests. I sourced them all after hours spent
combing the old guest books Dominic loaned me.

The Rexford is my second
favorite palace. -Grace Kelly.

That one is my favorite, followed
by Al Capone’s scribbled signature taking up an entire page.

“The event is a hit!”
Sheila from the PR company greets me with a socialite hug and an air
kiss on each cheek. “These guest book entries and the
blueprints from the original hotel were incredible ideas, Juliet.”

I’m elated and feel like
I’m floating. “I can’t take all the credit. The
team did great work.”

“We did. I hope we get to
work together again soon.” She raises her champagne glass in a
toast and moves away to speak with someone else. I know I should be
humble, and I am. But I’ve never had such a sense of
accomplishment before and yeah, I did do a great job. I’m proud
of me.

When I see the appreciative way
Dominic is looking at me, I know he’s proud of me, too.

He puts a hand on my lower back
and guides me to a quiet alcove. “Sheila is right. You did a
great job. Your ideas are fresh and you’ve shown me that you’re
not afraid to work hard.”

I flush under the compliment.
“Thank you.”

“There’s an opening
in the corporate office,” he continues. “You’re a
perfect fit.”

I blink because I’m sure I
heard him wrong. Just to be sure, I eye my champagne glass. Nope,
still full, so I can’t blame it on a buzz.

“Dominic, are you offering
me a job?”

“Yes.”

I make a disbelieving sound and
hold my glass tighter to keep from dropping it. I’m two seconds
away from throwing my arms around him, or busting out The Carlton
happy dance. This is incredible! “I don’t know what to
say.” I stammer.

He doesn’t move toward me
or touch me in any way, and I realize he’s giving me space to
make my choice. It’s not much of a choice at all.

Everything I’ve dreamed
about since starting college is coming true. A job at The Rexford is
my ultimate goal, and he’s giving it to me weeks before my
internship is even over. Sure, I nailed ideas for the gala, but is
that really enough to earn a coveted position here? Or is there
another reason?

I look down, not sure how to ask.
“Are you doing this because of us?”

He gives me a look. “I
would never risk the company over personal feelings, Juliet. You’ve
earned this.”

“Okay,” I say,
finally starting to believe him. “Yes. Yes, I accept!”

I step into him, needing the
searing heat of his kiss.

“There you are, big
brother,” Xander interrupts us. He’s dressed in a flashy
navy pinstripe suit, his white shirt open over his tanned skin. “Am
I interrupting?”

“Seriously?” Dom
growls. “What do you think?”

I know the brothers have a
complex relationship, but I can’t help but feel sorry for the
younger Rexford. He seems lost, disconnected, yet he has a spark of
interest that might flame if Dominic would give it a chance.

If Xander is hurt by Dom’s
attitude, he doesn’t show it. “I just wanted you to know,
Blaine Prescott is here.” He nods to the ballroom, where
Prescott is sauntering over to greet us.

“I gotta hand it to you,
Rexford. You put on a good show.” Blaine’s words are a
little slurred. He puts an arm around Dominic’s shoulders and
smiles big for the photographer lurking nearby.

Dom looks icy. “I might
take that a compliment if you weren’t drunk.”

“You’re right. It is
the alcohol talking.” Blaine’s smile gets bigger as
another photographer joins in. Dominic’s carefully schooled
expression is at least believable, not to mention that he looks
model-perfect. “This is a lovely attempt, but you have to
realize that nothing can save you now,” Blaine continues. “This
place is a dead man walking.”

“Can you gentlemen shake
hands, please?” Another photographer has joined in. Jesus, it’s
like a school of sharks over here.

“No,” Dominic says
firmly. “We’re done. Thank you, gentlemen.” He
breaks away from Blaine, who drains his glass and looks around,
presumably for a waiter. He’s a bit unsteady.

“Actually,” Dominic
calls out to one of the photographers, “you may want to follow
Mr. Prescott this evening. You never know when he’ll give you
that perfect, front-page ready shot.”

The orchestra begins to play as
servers in crisp white coats begin weaving through the room to escort
people to their seats.

Ah, dinner time. Thank God,
because I’m starving.

People mill around us to find
their tables. It’s a flurry of gorgeous gowns and handsomely
dressed men, but I barely see any of them. Dominic’s profile is
to me and he’s striking, tall and in command. He really does
take my breath away.

I take his arm, and when he looks
at me, I feel a surge of tenderness and warmth like never before. I
was falling for him in Paris, but this is stronger, more complete.
It’s not falling anymore; I’m all the way there.

I’m completely.

Undeniably.

In love with Dominic Andrew
Freaking Rexford.

“I’m liking this look
on your face.” Dominic finally cracks a smile. “Do we
need to go somewhere private?”

Yes! I think he’s teasing,
but the heat in his eyes sways me toward not teasing. Suddenly, he
scowls and looks over my head.

“What the fuck is she doing
here?”

I glance behind me to see Lillian
coming toward us, stunning in floor-length white silk. There’s
a man behind her wearing a business suit and a scowl, briefcase
tucked under one arm. Lillian stops in front of Dominic.

“You always did dress up
nice.” She touches the lapel on his tux and his eyes turn dark.
“We need to talk, Dom. Alone.”

Nerves start to creep through my
body. The room is beginning to hush and I’m aware that people
are looking at us. I don’t hear the click of cameras, but I’m
sure photos are being taken. Her very presence is threatening to
overshadow the event. Who wants elegance when they can have gossip?

“Whatever it is, you can
say it right here and then go,” Dominic almost growls.

“You really want to do this
here?” she retorts. “Air your dirty laundry in front of
everyone?”

Dom clearly thinks better of it.
He looks to me. “Go ahead and start dinner without me. I’ll
be right back.”

“No,” Lillian says,
with a strangely satisfied smile. “She should come, too.”

What’s going on? I follow
them out of the ballroom, and down a hallway to a side room. Tension
edges every line of Dom’s body, but he doesn’t even look
at me.

"Well?" he demands, the
minute Lillian's lawyer closes the door. "What the hell is it
that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Lillian drops her friendly smile.
“You violated the pre-nup. Our settlement is off.”

“What the fuck do you
mean?” Dominic looks furious. “That’s bullshit, and
you know it!”

Lillian sighs. “Temper,
Dominic. Really. We can be civil about this, at least.” She
nods to her lawyer. He opens his briefcase and takes out a small
laptop and a manila folder.

“You may recall we had an
infidelity clause in the contract,” Lillian continues. “If
you cheated on me, the pre-nup would be void. Remember?”

Dom glares. “As much as I
grew to dislike you, Lillian, I never once cheated on you.”

“I beg to disagree. And I
think a judge will be on my side.” She opens the folder and
dumps it upside down. A stack of black and white pictures flutter
onto the table.

I catch a glimpse of a hotel bar.
A woman, leaning in close to Dominic.

Me.

In an instant, I know what’s
going on, why I’m here in the middle of it all.

It’s because of me.

The night we met. The job to
flirt with him and get incriminating photos. It’s all been
leading to this! The honeytrap…the reason the photographer was
following him that night. He
was
still married.

I grab the edge of the table to
keep myself upright as Dom reaches for the photos and slowly spreads
them across the table.

My face is everywhere.

Dominic and I at the whiskey bar.
Him kissing me, leaning in close. My flirty smile.

“How did you get these?”
Dom’s voice is tight, pained.

“Someone was in the right
place at the right time,” Lillian shrugs. “Conveniently.”

“This was a fucking set
up?” Dom growls, looking at me in disbelief. “
You
set this up?”

I can’t answer. I’m
frozen in place, hugging my arms around myself. Tears sting my eyes.
I want to deny it, but I can’t. And it’s not just that I
betrayed Dominic. He betrayed me, too. I didn’t realize when we
met that he was a married man. He’d told me no one was waiting
at home for him! He’d lied to me. And he’d kissed me. And
that wasn’t all we’d done that night. My stomach clenches
at the memory.

“It’s safe to assume
this didn’t just end in the bar,” Lillian smirks. “I’m
right, aren’t I?” she asks me. “You slept with him,
before our divorce was final. Bye bye, pre-nup. Hello, division of
assets.”

“Get out.” Dominic
points to the door.

Lillian’s still smiling,
gloating at her ill-won victory. “We still have to discuss—”

“I said, GET OUT!”
His voice roars with anger. Lillian backs off.

“We’ll be in touch,”
she says, gesturing for her lawyer to follow her out. The door slams
behind them. We’re alone.

Oh God.

I force myself to look at him,
but the furious betrayal on his face is worse than I ever imagined.

“Were you sent to set me
up?” he demands. “That night at the Drake, is that why
you were there?”

I swallow, then whisper my guilty
confession.

“Yes.”

“Fuck!” Dom slams his
fist into the wall, cracking the plasterboard. Blood runs from the
cut on his knuckles, and I want to go to him, comfort him, but he’s
shaking with rage. I’m frantic with the need to tell him
everything, to make him understand that what started as a trap turned
into something more. I’m even willing to forgive his trespasses
against me, because I understand everything so much better now—his
unhappiness, his loneliness, his secrets. But I need an apology, too.
We have to talk this over.

“Dominic, please, I can
explain. It’s not like that.”

“You mean, I didn’t
just get fooled by a whore?”

The word is a slap in the face,
and I’m rendered speechless.

He turns and storms out of the
room. I’m frozen for another moment, but then I rush after him.
“Wait!” I grab his arm, pulling him back to me.

“For what?” he
demands. “So you can tell me more lies? Fuck, after everything
that’s happened…I trusted you!”

“I’m sorry,” I
say, keeping my voice even. “I wanted to tell you, but I
couldn’t. Just like you couldn’t tell me that—”

“Do you know what you just
cost me?” he interrupts. He rakes a hand through his hair. “To
think I fucking cared about you.”

A loud hum goes through my head
and gets louder as all the anguish in his expression turns cold and
ruthless. He looks at me like I’m nothing.

“Get out.”

I can’t believe this is
happening. It can’t be over, not when I love him like this.

“Dominic—” I
start.

“Just stop. It’s
over, Juliet.” He turns away from me. “We’re done.”

“But—”

“Go. Get the fuck out of my
hotel and don’t come back.”

# # #

TO BE CONTINUED…

What happens next? Juliet and Dom’s sizzling story concludes in
THE HOTEL: PART THREE
. Coming 7/29.

Order now!

Do you enjoy sexy books? Read on for a sneak peek at new books by J.D Hawkins and Eve Jagger!

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Dylan

Movie reviews are bullshit, but I like to think the one that said I
have the 'eyes of a man before the kill and the smile of one who
enjoys it' got it right.

At least tonight, anyway.

I’ve spent almost the entire day working out, and though
there’s a dull ache flowing through my body, there’s also
that tingle of electricity I get whenever I stand still for too long.
A twinge in my muscles that makes me want to move, to find some
action. Luckily I know all the right places to find it.

I step out of the shower and towel myself off as I walk into the
bedroom, grabbing the beer I left on the desk and downing all of it.
It’ll take a lot more than beer to cool off the energy that’s
gathering momentum inside of me though. There’s a song with a
slow beat and a growling guitar playing, and the dusty light of a
dying LA sun highlighting parts of my room through the blinds. I grab
my phone as I settle on the edge of the bed and spin through the
contacts.

I pause before hitting dial on a friend. I could dress sharp and head
out to the bars of Los Angeles, get plenty drunk, and see where my
instincts lead me – most likely my place or hers – but
that’s not what I want tonight. I love the thrill of the chase,
but I’m ready for action right now.

Then there’s ‘Hot Ass,’ ‘Kinky Blonde,’
‘Finger Sucker,’ ‘Leggy Redhead,’ and all the
other girls with talents memorable enough to give them a special
place in my contacts, but even that won’t cut it.