The Hotel 3 (The Billionaire Seduction) (4 page)

Then
it’s
gone.

“I
can’t.”
He says, his
voice cracking raw. Then he walks out, and I’m
all alone.

Again.

I
stay there a moment, slowly pulling my skirt down and tidying my
hair. Even though I wanted this, I feel numb.

I
can’t
keep letting him do this to me.

No
matter how much I was falling for him, no matter how deep I thought
our connection ran. That’s
over – he
just made it perfectly clear. And I’m
not the kind of girl to let a man treat me like this, yell at me, and
judge me, and fuck me like I mean nothing to him.

It’s
over now; it has to be.

I’m
done.

After
what went down in his office, I don’t want to look at him
again, but Dom is suddenly everywhere. It’s
like he’s
making a point of being where I am. The hall, the elevator, even the
freaking breakroom. Considering he has a fancy espresso machine and a
Keurig in his office, I don’t
brush that off as coincidence.

What
is he playing at?

Thursday
lunchtime, he comes striding out of his office just as I get off the
elevator. My assistant rushes to help with the armful of fabric
samples, design prints, laptop bag, and coffee I’m
trying to balance.

“Thanks,
Meredith,” I
say, focusing on her so I don’t
look at Dom. From my peripheral vision, I see him walk by me. He
greets someone in a smooth tone that drips with flirtation. It’s
almost seductive. I’ve
never heard him use that tone with anyone…
except me.

Who
is he talking to like
that
?

Dominic
is leaning next to a female intern sitting at one of the secretary
desks. His face is turned toward her, his lips close to her ear.
She’s
blushing, her eyes lowered as a sneaky grin tugs her lips. He says
something in a sexy, bedroom tone, and she laughs.

I
can’t
tear my eyes away.

After
everything we shared—Paris,
planning the gala, the intimate moments when he opened up to me—
this
is
what he does all over again?

I
swallow back my hurt. I should be glad he’s
making this easy for me. I said I was moving on, and clearly, that’s
exactly what he’s
doing too.

“Juliet,
darling. There you are.”

Lillian
appears and loops her arm through mine.
“Let’s
chat over lunch. I’m
dying to know how the renovation planning is coming along.”

An
escape? I never thought of Lillian as my savior, but right now she’s
giving me the perfect excuse to get away. “That
sounds great.”

We
walk a couple of blocks to a restaurant she loves. Lillian makes
small talk, but I don’t
hear much of what she says. My brain keeps replaying the scene from
the office, Dom leaning in close to that girl –
just like he
used to do with me.

I
follow Lillian up to the roof terrace and take a seat, still
distracted.

Lillian
flags down a waitress. “Mimosas,
please. And keep them coming.”
She looks back at me. “No
offence, but you look like you need a drink.”

“Is
it really that obvious?”

She
gives me a sympathetic smile. “You’re
forgetting, I’ve
been on the other end of Dom’s
tantrums. It’s
not a pleasant place to be. Let me guess, he’s
started flirting with everything in a skirt?”

I
nod.

Lillian
rolls her eyes. “It’s
so juvenile. He’s
doing it just to make a point. He
doesn’t
mean any of it.”

“How
can you be so sure?”

“Because
Dominic Rexford may be many things, but a cheater isn’t
one of them.” Lillian
takes a calm sip of her water. “He
wouldn’t
screw around when he’s
still in love with you.”

What?

I
stare at her in disbelief. She smirks. “I
know my ex-husband. Trust me, you’re
the only one he cares about right now.”

“But…
why are you
telling me this?” I
can’t
figure her out.

“You
mean, I’m
supposed to be a jealous bitch hell-bent on stealing him back?”
Lillian gives
a little laugh. “Please,
darling. We’re
both adults here. And I have no interest in reliving my marriage with
Dom. We tried it, it didn’t
work, the end.”

I’m
still reeling. She seems so calm. So mature. Everything I’m
trying and failing to be right now.

The
waiter arrives with the mimosas. I take a gulp and look around. It’s
a gorgeous terrace, with potted topiaries and fresh flowers growing
along the edge of the roof.

“So…
what, um,
what happened with the two of you?”
I ask.

Lillian
shrugs lightly. “We
were a good match. Our families knew each other, I saw him at a lot
of the same events, and we had a good time. We were a team.”

Despite
everything, I feel a pang of jealousy.

“It
was a beautiful wedding,” Lillian
gives a nostalgic sigh. “But
then. Well, Dominic is a hard man to tap. Emotionally, I mean. He’s…
aloof,
contained. He never let me in, never let me see the real Dominic. I
needed more of a connection than that.”
Her smile turns softer, vulnerable.

She’s
more like Dominic than she realizes. Inside her classy, cool exterior
is a human being craving love and affection. They just couldn’t
give that love to each other.

Lillian
smiles cheerily, the melancholy on her face suddenly gone. “Anyway,
consider it a cautionary tale. Dom doesn’t
know how to open up, and you need to ask yourself if you can settle
for that.”

I
hear her, but I don’t
believe her. I’ve
seen Dominic loosen up. I’ve
seen him crumble. As much as he’s
hurt me, I can’t
imagine that it was all in my head.

“He’s
opened up to me,” I
blurt. “He
let me in, a little bit.”

She
looks surprised and I shut up before I say too much. If he never
shared that side of himself with Lillian, it’s
not my place to do it for him.

“Well,
maybe he can change.” She
gives me a supportive smile. “Either
way, you shouldn’t
let him walk all over you at work. You can’t
build your world around a man like that. You never know when the
walls will give way.” She
looks like she’s
going to say more, but the waiter arrives with Caprese salads and
salmon. I realize how little I’ve
been eating lately. Maybe it’s
stress,
or the mimosas, but I’m
suddenly ravenous.

“There
she is! Lillian!”

I
look up in time to see Blaine Prescott heading right for our table,
knocking a waiter aside in his haste to come greet Lillian. “I
didn’t
know you were back in town,” he
smarms, looking like a reject from a Ralph Lauren ad with his blond
hair slicked back and a white seersucker suit. “You
should have returned my calls. We must have dinner!”

“Blaine,
so nice to see you,” Lillian
says without conviction. He’s
smiling widely at her, adoration clear on his face. Lillian returns
to her meal as if she hopes he’ll
just go away. Instead, he puts a hand on the back of her chair and
leans in.

“You
look stunning as always. Dom never did know a good thing when he had
it.” He
laughs again.

Ewww.

“There’s
a new French restaurant opening tomorrow night. I could make us
reservations—”

Lillian
puts up a hand. “I’m
sorry, darling. I really can’t
tomorrow.”

Nonplussed,
Blaine leans even closer, his armpit in perfect alignment to
Lillian’s
face. “The
day after, then.”

“Blaine,”
Lillian’s
voice snaps before it sweetens. “I’m
flattered, but I’m
not interested.”

Blaine’s
face changes. He takes a slow breath through his nose and I feel like
I’m
waiting for an explosion. Lillian is tense, but she doesn’t
look at him, just keeps on cutting her tomatoes and mozzarella into
tiny bites.

“So
this is where the Rexford’s
beauties wandered off to.”

The
tension is broken by a familiar flirty voice. Xander saunters over,
his crooked smile and good looks turning heads. Lillian lights up
when she sees him, clearly relieved. Me too.

Xander
takes in the situation with one look, then extends his hand to
Lillian. “Emergency
at the office, sweetheart. I need you back right away.”

“Of
course.” Lillian
gets up, moving to put Xander between herself and Blaine. “Sorry
Jules, you’ll
finish up here? Take your time.”

She
quickly places a credit card down, gives Xander a grateful smile, and
lets him whisk her out of the terrace.

And
just like that, I’m left alone with Blaine.

Of
course,
then
he notices me. “What’s
Xander doing back anyway? I thought he was off fucking supermodels.”
He sits with
a thud.

“He’s
back for Lillian,” I
hear myself say. “You
know, to help her out. They’ve
always been close.”

I
have no idea if that’s
true, but maybe if Blaine thinks Xander and Lillian are a thing,
he’ll
back off and stop acting so creepy.

Blaine
scowls. “I
didn’t
know. Huh. She should have learned her lesson after the first Rexford
screwed her over.” He
mumbles something after that, but I don’t
wait around. I grab the credit card and my purse and stand.

“If
you’ll
excuse me. Back to work.” I
don’t
care if it’s
impolite. I don’t
even care if he responds. I hoof it inside to the bar, pay my tab,
and get the hell out. An uneasy feeling follows me, and I hope that’s
the last time I have to deal with Blaine Prescott.

If
only I could be so lucky.

By
lunch the next day I’m
so stressed I can almost feel my hair falling out. From the moment I
walk into the office, I duck through one emergency after another. If
this is some kind of ‘welcome
to the corporate’ world
initiation, I’m
pretty sure I’m
failing it. Add that to the general whispers that still follow me
around the building, and the fact the other interns all hate my guts,
and I can’t
wait to get away from the drama. The minute the clock hits noon, I’m
out of there. At first, I don’t
know where I’m
going. The sun is shining and it’s
beautiful outside. Then I remember an exhibit at the art gallery a
few blocks away that I want to see, offering a collection of
photography and paintings of old buildings in Chicago.

The
place is almost empty when I arrive. Air conditioning wafts over me,
cooling my skin and my nerves. Suddenly, the stress of the Rexford
seems a hundred miles away. I may only have a short break, but I’ve
earned it.

I
let the calm sink over me, and I slowly stroll the clean,
white-walled rooms. My dad used to bring me here for special
exhibitions all the time growing up. He would scan the weekend
newspapers for fun, free things to do, then take me all around town:
to art openings, library events, anything connected to our shared
love of architecture and old buildings.

He
would have loved the show today, photographs and old maps, all
highlighting the architectural beauty of Old Chicago. A wave of
nostalgia hits me. His passion for old buildings and history
preservation are the main reason I have the career I do today.

My
cellphone rings, breaking the moment. I check the screen. Xander.

“Seriously,
I’ve
been gone like fifteen minutes,” I
sigh.

“Sorry,
darling. My
wonderful
brother pulled together an investors’
meeting that he has no intention of attending himself. We need to
present renovation updates at three.”

I
groan. “I
hate you a little right now.”

Xander
laughs. “Good
thing I’m
used to it. Where are you?”

I
tell him, and he says he’ll
come pick me up in an hour. I shove my phone in the bottom of my
purse. If it rings again, I won’t
be able to hear it.

I
continue browsing, and wonder if the impromptu meeting is what set
Xander and Dominic off this morning. Xander, remarkably, is better at
this hotel stuff than I would have thought. He has an energy about
him that draws people in, makes them listen. Not to mention his ideas
are fresh. He and I have collaborated more than anyone else, and I go
to him first with new ideas. I wish his brother could see in Xander
what I do.

If
they’d
work together, there’s
no telling how far we could take the Rexford’s
new direction.

I
head around the corner to the back room –
and come face
to face with Dom.

What
the hell?

“Juliet.”
He freezes,
looking as shocked as I feel.

“I—I
didn’t
know you were here.” He’s
probably going to think I am stalking him now.

But
instead of being tense and angry –
his default
setting these past weeks – Dom
just takes a deep breath.

“What
do you think?”
He nods to a painting on the far wall. I realize that it’s
the Rexford as it was a hundred years ago, painted in impressionist
style with muted colors.

I
wonder if he’s
testing me. “I
think it would look amazing hanging in the grand lobby.”
I answer, cautious.

“I’ve
purchased it for that exact reason.”

I
sneak a look at him. He’s
wearing dark pants and a white button-down, open at the neck. Good
enough to eat. I flash to a memory of taking his cock between my
lips, but quickly cut that fantasy short.
Get
a grip.
If I let my thoughts get X-rated every time he walks by, I’m
going to be frustrated as hell.

“Join
me in the courtyard?” He
asks, taking me by surprise.

“Sure,”
I finally
reply and hurry to catch up. He doesn’t
say anything as we walk out to the small green space out back.
There’s
a bench and some sculptures dotting the lawn. Dom takes a seat at one
end of the bench, and I slowly sit down too.

Silence.

“The
new PR team is working out,” I
begin to babble. “They
booked a release party for some new pop star. I know you didn’t
want any scandal, but it’s
good publicity. And we’re
talking to some location scouts about having the Rexford used in a
couple of upcoming movies, too.” I
keep my voice light.