Her perfectly manicured eyebrow lifts in amusement, and this time I do smile. She doesn’t like my rules. “Yes. No desk. Desks promote work. We’re promoting leisure.”
“Okay, Mr. Career. You’re telling me you wouldn’t be working nonstop if you were staying here?”
I take a seat on the edge of the mattress and loosen the tie around my neck. “I would be. I’m sure.”
“Exactly.” She points at me like she already knew that. “You and everyone I know is career-driven. Even when we’re on vacation, we’re working. The room needs a desk.”
“I told you what the bedroom is for.”
I like the blush that creeps up her neck to her cheeks at the mention of the bedroom. And my thoughts quickly move to what she’s like in bed. She’s a fighter, but she probably likes to be made love to. A sensitive soul.
Not for me.
“Fucking and sleeping.”
I smile, liking the word “fucking” coming from her mouth way too much. “Yup.”
She walks across the floor, surprising me when she joins me on the bed, crossing her ankles. “Desk in the living room area then?”
She looks through the doorway as if she’s already trying to imagine the desk out there.
“No.”
She groans, lifting her hands to cover her face and slowly dragging them down to sit in her lap. She turns to look at me. “No desk at all? You really feel that strongly about it? You and I both know that desk or no desk, a workaholic is going to work.”
I shrug. “So they will. I won’t encourage it though.”
“You’re infuriating.”
For whatever reason, that makes me laugh, a sound I haven’t heard coming from myself for a while. And it makes her smile.
Lola’s smile is dangerous. It’s as beautiful as she is with her bright white teeth and full lips, and it lights up her already beautiful face.
She was made for smiling.
“I’m a workaholic, but I want a place I can relax.”
“So you’re spending millions of dollars just to find a place where you can relax?” Her eyebrow is lifted, and she’s wearing a proud smirk.
“Well, if you can’t find it, build it.”
“Perfect motto.”
I smile, and it’s a real smile, one I feel deep down, one that’s trying to connect with hers.
Her eyes are fixed on mine, and the connection has been made. I could lean over and kiss her right now, and we’d both be powerless to stop it.
But I don’t.
And she doesn’t.
“Workaholics don’t usually promote relaxation.”
“I’ll be thirty in three days. It’s not supposed to be old.” My voice is quiet even if no one else is in the hotel. The construction crew left an hour ago. “But I'm so fucking tired.”
I watch her delicate throat as she swallows, and I swear she has unshed tears in her eyes as she studies me. “I know exactly what you mean.” Her voice is also quiet, and I know she does.
I want her to be a spoiled princess, the type I hate. But she has something deep under her surface.
The loss of her brother?
Maybe.
“Why did you leave your father’s company? You had it made there, I'm sure.”
She flinches at my blunt question and then straightens her back like the professional she is. “I didn’t want to be just Mr. Sterling’s daughter. I wanted to find out who I am without him.”
Fuuuck . . . I hate how perfect that answer is.
“That’s brave.”
She shrugs. “Not if you know my father.”
Daddy issues again. “I don’t.”
“You seem to know of me. My family.”
I’m going to give too much away. “I started my business in Kansas City. Everyone knows of the Sterlings there.”
She looks surprised, her pretty eyes shining with so many questions. “You’re from Kansas City?”
She’s going to find me out. It has to be obvious to her now. Of course, would it be so bad? Yeah. Maybe. “Yes.”
“I don’t remember a prominent West family there. We’re close to the same age. How didn’t we go to the same school?”
She thinks I grew up like she did. Privileged. Going to private schools.
“It’s a big city.”
She’s eyeing me with suspicion but seems to think better of calling me out. “I suppose it is. How did you end up here?”
“College.”
She nods her head, accepting my answer that, for the record, is not a lie. I worked my ass off and had a full ride to Stanford.
“No desk. No television in the bedroom, but a red chair in the corner.”
I turn to look at the bare corner and nod my head. “Yes.”
“Progress.”
“I like it.”
“Still hate me?”
My eyes can’t seem to look away from her plump lip after her question.
“I hate everything.”
Her lips turn up into another smile, and it’s knowing.
Because I don’t hate her. Not even a little.
We should go back to hating each other. That’s less dangerous. I definitely hate how unbelievably gorgeous he is when he smiles.
I hate his laugh.
I hate that he told me something real.
And most of all . . . I hate how little I hate all of that.
He is beyond infuriating. Set in his ways and so incredibly frustrating, but there’s a vulnerability to him that makes me want to know everything about him.
At hotel number three, we go with the exact plan already set at the other two but add a couple of things to all three.
He’s right. Going to the building sites has helped me see his vision.
I feel a kinship with him I can’t explain. He has a drive inside him that matches my own.
We’re going over the purchase orders, sitting on the bed when I hear heels clicking on the living room floor and instantly my hackles rise.
Gretchen walks into the bedroom not long after, her eyes glowing with hatred when she sees me on the bed with Hayden. The way she’s looking at me, I might as well be naked, but I'm fully clothed and sitting several feet away from him.
“Gretchen. I’ll have a few more orders for you after today.” Hayden doesn’t look up from his phone, completely oblivious to his assistant’s jealous glare as he sits on the bed in his black suit and tie.
As always, Gretchen looks beautiful on the outside. Tight, black skinny pants on her legs paired with a white camisole and a pink blazer. She looks professional even if she rarely acts that way around me.
“Anything else, Hayden?”
Her voice is sultry as she turns her gaze to him, but he still doesn’t lift his gaze from his phone. “No. That’s all for today.”
Her eyes move back to me as they roam over my outfit. My blouse is floral with a white background and off the shoulder sleeves that flow to my elbows. It’s one of my favorites, and I paired it with a skintight pale pink skirt and beige heels. I’ve noticed since I've started working with Hayden, I’ve put even more thought into my appearance, and I wonder if she did the same thing.
“I can stick around and help if you’d like?”