Surrender to You (5 page)

Now that was one strike against me. Unlike my best friend Sophie, who also owned a personal concierge business here in Boston and spoke fluent Japanese, I hadn't mastered a foreign language. I had rudimentary skills.

“I can greet and help customers in Spanish, French, and Portuguese. I'm not fluent by any means, but I'm more than capable. I'm quite familiar with the interpreters available in the Boston area.” I probably couldn't throw a rock without hitting an interpreter.

“Most of our clientele is from Europe, but every now and then we have businessmen from Asia and Africa.”

I nodded, paying careful attention to every word.

The elevator doors closed behind us and I held my breath. My ears always painfully popped, no matter what I did.

“Do you know American Sign Language?” he asked.

“I am proficient in fingerspelling.” My head hurt a bit from nodding so much. “I've assisted blind and deaf customers before.”

In my previous interviews, there'd been no tour of the facilities until I had the job, but it looked like Mr. Butts was offering me one. Hope filled me and buoyed me upward. I kept smiling, hoping and praying we didn't pass Tomas.

“Mr. Goodfellow believes our customers' privacy is of the utmost importance,” Mr. Butts said. “Ever since the Tower opened last year, we've had a policy in place to ensure that everything that takes place in our hotel is private.”

I nodded yet again. If he only knew the secrets I'd kept in the past while I'd worked in NYC or the U.K., the blond hairs on his head would go white. The madness ranged from week-long parties with foreign call girls of dubious legality to ushering elderly gentlemen to the hospital because they took a few too many purple pills to keep their peter in action.

It was simple, in my opinion. I had a job to do and I did it. After Mr. Butts showed me around the customer service floor, he gave me a full tour of the hotel. The whole place seemed brand new, but with the classic Boston charm of a gilded age. The furnishings were all of a classy 1940s motif.

When the interview ended, I stood waiting for his verdict.

Mr. Butts looked me over, perhaps searching for a flaw. “I'm interested in working with you because of your membership in Les Clefs d'Or, Ms. Jason, but only on a trial basis. I have thirty-five souls as concierge staff for the premier clients at the Goodfellow. Just because you've worked with clients in the U.K. doesn't mean you have the skill set to work in a hotel again.”

As he spoke with the utmost confidence I'd fail, I forced myself to keep a straight face. I'd been working full-time for the past six years in the service industry and he thought I might be out of touch? At least my membership in the elite Les Clefs d'Or hotel concierge organization showed merit.

“I have full control over hiring the assistant chef concierge and I expect all my clients to have the utmost care. I'd prefer someone who spoke at least five languages, but…” He looked me over, maybe expecting me to flinch, but I didn't.

“Are you up to the challenge?” he finished.

“Yes, Mr. Butts.” The only direction was up, right?

He turned to enter the elevator, but stopped before I could get on. “Then I'll see you bright and early at six
A.M.
tomorrow.”

Fogginess dulled my brain as I tried to tug off sleep. And failed utterly. One day I was going to wake up on time. Three alarms clocks beeped, sang, and chirped respectively. My fourth alarm, one with the annoying shrill of a tornado siren at full blast, vibrated the whole bed.

At least something worked.

Without an alarm, I slept like I was dead to the world. Except when I woke up in Tomas's bed, but that was a place I couldn't wait to escape.

In five minutes, I was dressed in the standard staff uniform of the Goodfellow Tower Hotel: a dark-blue pencil skirt—hitting right above the knee—a white blouse, and a black blazer with a golden
GTH
stitched on the front pocket.

Right before I'd left the building, I'd picked up my clothes and signed the employment forms at the security desk. No warm greeting from my coworkers or anything else. Mr. Butts was a piece of work, I tell ya.

The stack of papers I had to sign included a lengthy nondisclosure agreement. I'd seen plenty of those in my line of work, so the legalese wasn't a surprise, but the consequences of breaking the agreement bordered on extreme.

I signed without letting that batshit crazy documentation bother me. If Tomas's company was willing to pay me well to keep secrets, I didn't care. The sooner I found my parents, the sooner I could return overseas and get back to running my own business.

Thanks to my money supply issue, I entered the subway car with the rest of the commuters. North Boston around the Cambridge campus wasn't too bad. Everyone around me looked about my age. Mid-twenties graduate students on track to teach or work research jobs after they escaped college. During the subway ride into downtown, I'd look at each face, from the short girl wearing scrubs to the bearded man who dictated into his phone, and imagine their lives were my own. In another life, I'd attended a four-year college, and now I worked for a living.

In my imaginary world, on weekends, I called my parents and they complained about how I never made time for them. A smile touched my lips. I was busy taking over the world, after all.

That was the life I'd lived for the past few years, and now no matter how much I focused on each step toward the Goodfellow Tower Hotel, I was still Carlie Jason, orphan, hermit, and the girl who wanted this emptiness inside me to fade.

Entering the hotel at the staff entrance, I was excited about the possibilities. I was on the front lines again and I might learn a thing or two.

The last thing I expected was to find a Hispanic couple arguing in the hallway the minute I reached the service level. The man, who had an enormous brown stain across his shirt, silently fumed while the woman across from him tried to argue in hushed tones.

“Is there anything you can do right?” she snapped. “It's your third day and you've already stained your clothes.”

I kept my gaze forward.

She continued, “Just turn around and go home.”

“No one will notice.” Even though he was a bit shorter than the woman, he appeared to be quite resolute to take the punishment and not argue about what happened. Were they married?

“No one will notice? How about the coffee smell?” she hissed.

Oh, I noticed it.
Starbucks Mocha Latte with Vanilla and Cream. Yep, it had gluten. What I wouldn't give to suck the evil outta that drink so I could pump the creamy, caffeine-filled goodness into my veins.

I almost walked past them. If I helped I'd be late, but then again I wasn't the kind of person to just stand there and let fate smash someone's job into the ground.

“Hey.” Both of them turned toward me. I got the look I'd seen countless times in NYC. A single raised eyebrow, head tilted to the side, and a downward turn to the mouth: namely mind-your-own-business, lady.

“Just trying to offer a hand here.” I saw the name
YOLANDA
on her name badge. “Yolanda, most departments have backup clothes.”

“Like they are going to let us use them for free.”

“We're working in a hotel. Accidents like spills are going to happen.” I took a step closer. I had their attention now.

“So what do we do?” she asked.

I held in my groan. “Follow me.”

They had to rush to keep up; I didn't want to be too late.

“Harry, c'mon!” Yolanda said.

“Who is your supervisor?” I asked.

Yolanda fired off a name I didn't recognize, but I'd learn everyone's name soon enough. I knew exactly where to go. Last night I'd gone over the materials I asked for from security: a map of the entire facility, the services the hotel offered, nearby restaurants. All of this was my arsenal.

In record time, we reached the floor with laundry services, which was right next to dry-cleaning services. The whole place was impressive. Instead of placing the dry-cleaning services in a corner, Tomas had devoted an entire space to dry cleaning. I scanned the room, noting the state-of-the-art garment press and washing machines.
Not bad, Goodfellow.

I quickly found the backup uniforms among the shelves of folded clothes and grabbed what I needed.

“Can I help you?” one of the maids asked.

“Harry needs another shirt. He had a mishap on the way in. A patron spilled her latte on him.” I grinned. “I'm Carlie Jason. I'm working with Mr. Butts.”

The ladies around us laughed. “So you're the new victim,” one of them said.

Should I be concerned everyone thinks that?
“Guess so.”

Once I left laundry services, I found the couple in the bathroom. They were still arguing.

I handed the shirt to Harry. “Once you're done with it, turn it in. It's that easy.”

“How did you know his size?” Yolanda glanced from me to Harry, who shrugged while he donned the fresh shirt.

I laughed. “My job is to take care of people, Yolanda. When it comes to customers, you have to not only read what they want but also read them as people. Your husband probably weighs one hundred eighty pounds and has a thirty-four-inch waist. His neck tends to lean on the thick side at sixteen inches, but a shirt around seventeen and a half should fit him just fine.”

They stared at me as if I'd stripped down naked.

“Are you for real?” she asked. “What's your name?”

I introduced myself. “You can't get any more real than me, sister.” I glanced at my watch. Four minutes left. I might make it on time.
Might.
“I gotta go. See you two around.”

I hurried out of there and ran to the service elevator. They managed to join me before the door shut.

“Thanks, Carlie,” Yolanda mumbled.

“You're more than welcome.” I smiled and finally she grinned back. Yolanda was rather pretty when she wasn't chewing poor Harry out.

By the time I stumbled into the management offices on the second floor, I was only three minutes late. Not too shabby.

First things first, I used a tissue to wipe off a spot for my purse. That was when I noticed the open door to Mr. Butts's office. I peered around the corner and didn't see anyone sitting at the desk.

I got into my seat with a contented sigh—only to see him standing with his arms crossed on the other side of the room.

Shit.

“Good morning, Ms. Jason,” he said tersely.

Hearing my name forced me to stand. “Good morning.” My voice was somewhat forceful.

Mr. Butts snorted. “Glad you could make a
strong
impression on your first day.”

Saving the world had its pitfalls. He picked up a tablet and marched out of his office. I hurried to keep up with him.

“We have a lot of business to conduct today,” he began. “A few fires to put out and I need to show you the twenty-second floor.”

I frowned. “What's on the twenty-second floor? We don't have a thirteenth, which is standard, but a missing twenty-second floor is rather—”

“At least you've been studying,” he said crisply. “Mr. Goodfellow invested over one hundred million dollars in this property to bring opulence to the Boston area. The Tower has high-profile guests, and it's our job to make sure our guests on the twenty-second floor are comfortable.”

We wove around the service floor past the cubicles and the conference rooms. A business meeting paused for a moment as he passed, as if they were waiting to see if he'd enter.

“I thought I was supposed to assist you with any concierge management issues?”

“Yes, but primarily I need someone handling the sensitive issues I don't have time to handle.”

As the chef concierge, Mr. Butts saw everything. The concierge was for anyone to use, but like me, Mr. Butts handled the big fish. I was prepared for anything, though. From organizing a garden party for rich wannabe blue bloods to sending businessmen from overseas on a fishing trip in the Atlantic, this was just another day.

Mr. Butts continued, “Your paperwork has been processed and everything is in the clear. You work fast.”

I needed the money.

He hovered the keycard in his pocket over the reader in the elevator. A green light flashed on the opaque white button. “Your new keycard gives you access to the twenty-second floor.” He demonstrated. “Hold your keycard over the reader for four seconds and wait for the flash. After the flash, you'll be taken to the twenty-second floor.”

Apparently, that was the only way to get there. I didn't see a button for the twenty-second floor.

On the way up, the car briefly stopped to let staff in and out. Each of them nodded to Mr. Butts. On the way, I pondered where we were going. Did the Tower have an exclusive concierge floor? I'd seen plenty of those before as well. Those places put most resorts to shame, with butlers for massive suites and personal master chefs, along with guaranteeing any desire fulfilled.

Mr. Butts turned to me. “In your packet, you signed a nondisclosure agreement to never allow other staff members on this floor.”

I nodded.

The doors slid open and a man entered the elevator. “Good morning, Roland.”

I froze upon hearing that silky voice. He always had a way of turning my insides to liquid.

Even on my first day I couldn't escape him.

Tomas had found me.

“Is this your newest employee?” Tomas asked. As always, he was perfect at showing the world what he wanted them to see. The face that had hovered over mine while he was inside me now smiled as he greeted a subordinate. Stiff, yet friendly.

I wanted to take a step back, but resolve made me stand in place.
Don't let him see he has affected you,
I thought.

“This is Ms. Jason's first day,” Butts said. “I'm taking her to the twenty-second floor.”

“Of course.”

I forced myself to stand closer to him.

“Can I help you, sir?” Butts asked in Portuguese.

I swallowed, understanding that much. Hearing Butts call him “sir” bothered me for some reason. Maybe it was the endearment I sensed behind his statement.

Tomas replied in English. “I thought it'd be important to give your assistant a tour myself, since the twenty-second floor is very important to many of our guests.”

Butts nodded. He turned to me and stood with a straighter back.
Don't make me look bad,
his expression said.

I couldn't help looking from Tomas's wide back down to the way his black slacks fit over the curve of his ass. Damn, he was a perfect specimen. He was taller than most men, and it was apparent in how Butts had to look up at his employer.

Finally, we reached our destination. With an audible ding, the door opened. Tomas stepped through first, leaving a haze of his cologne behind. For a moment, I wanted to stay behind in the elevator and let his scent course through me.

Instead of staying though, I followed Butts out into a long hallway with marble floors. Tomas stepped aside so Butts could take the lead. We followed him, words still lingering in the air between us, until we reached the end of the hallway and paradise unfolded.

I slowed a bit, unable to keep up while taking in everything around me, from the marble floors covered with gold and vermilion rugs that extended toward grand staircases to the expansive ceilings with elaborate white molding. Excruciating detail had been put into the carving of the Goodfellow coat of arms on the walls.

Tomas hovered close to me, an amused air to his demeanor.

We'd stepped from a modern hotel to a section better suited to royalty. My smile froze in place the moment I saw a brunette crawling along the red carpet on her hands and knees. A deep purple leash ran from a collar around her neck to a short man's gloved hand. The sway of her bare hips and small breasts was hypnotic. The dark-haired woman didn't have a bit of clothing on and her gaze was set on the path before her.

“Are you taking Millicent for a walk?” Tomas asked the man.

“Just a quick jaunt,” the short man said. He wore casual business attire. Almost as if he'd just left work for the day.

Briefly, I glanced at the man Tomas had spoken to, only to look away for a moment. The short man's light brown eyes were intense and he smiled at me with appreciation. “Who is this exquisite creature, Mr. Butts?”

My boss piped up. “Mr. Frasier, Ms. Jason will be assisting me from now on.”

Tomas angled a bit in front of me and, for a brief moment, a flicker of possession sparked in his eyes. “She's here to accommodate all your needs, but she's not available to sample.”

“How unfortunate.” Mr. Frasier quirked a grin. He dangled his right hand at his side and Millicent angled upward, eagerly trying to stroke her cheek against his palm. My mouth dried just watching the way her lips parted and her breasts pressed together as she reached. What I wouldn't give to be in the same position at Tomas's feet. Eager and wet to service him.

“I'm in the middle of showing her Dante's Second Floor,” Tomas said. “Please enjoy yourself and let the staff know if there is anything they can do for you.”

So this place is called Dante's Second Floor.

Now that was an interesting name. Even I caught the reference to the Italian masterpiece
The Divine Comedy
. In the poem, Dante descended into hell, passing through nine circles. In the second one, he encountered people guilty of lust.

With a nod, Mr. Butts continued walking and I hurried after him. I told myself not to look back to where Tomas spoke quietly with Frasier, but I glanced briefly behind my back to see them looking in my direction.

At Frasier's feet, Millicent stared at me too, a beautiful grin on her perfect red mouth.

From the hallway, we walked down a stairwell toward an open room with a massive Grecian bath. I spied two pools, along with a seating area with chairs and tables. Four hot tubs were filled with guests relaxing and talking.

Mr. Butts extended his hand toward the room as if he was giving a casual tour. “Please note the layout, Ms. Jason. Concierge, guest services, and a cleaning staff are available twenty-four hours a day. If you notice anything that isn't meeting Mr. Goodfellow's expectations, you have full authority to act.”

Somehow, my supervisor was all business while a couple no more than twenty feet away from us fucked.

While Mr. Butts pointed out where I'd find supplies such as bath oils from Dubai and pure wool towels from Scotland, I tried to ignore the rising heat in my body. The woman moaned and I could practically feel each thrust as if he was fucking me. Then he withdrew and parted her legs. I knew what was coming and tried not to stare, but with a brief glance I saw him bending over to suck at her clit.

I'd seen sex in kinky clubs before, but I'd never been serious about the club scene. If I wanted pleasure and pain, I preferred the moment to be private with a partner. But I was human, and hearing her little moans and the wet sounds of sucking made my thighs clench with need. I could see Tomas bending down in front of me, his eyes dark and his tongue stretched out to run from my inner thighs into my wet channel.

“What do you think of the baths?” Tomas's voice entered my din and I had to quickly switch gears.

“Absolutely opulent,” I began.

Mr. Butts had left my side to examine a cart with toppled items in one corner. He quickly gestured for a staff member to clean it up.

“That's not what you're really thinking.” Tomas's voice was like a caress I hungered for.

Honesty was something we always tried to have between us. If one person wanted to leave, we both accepted it, but at this moment, I didn't want to reveal my longing.

“You didn't spare any expense here,” I said. “I'm impressed by your efforts.”

He nodded. “There's more.”

“Of course there is. I'd expect nothing less than the best from Tomas Goodfellow.” He was good at so
many
things.

Not far from us, the delicious cries of the woman's climax rocketed through me. I wanted to be that woman. Immediately, the man turned her over, pushed her ass in the air, and slid inside her with a single thrust. The sounds of their flesh meeting forced me to turn away from Tomas before I said or did something I'd regret.

Not far from the baths, Mr. Butts led us to a grand hall. In the middle of the hall sat larger tables where guests ate lunch or had drinks. Most of the guests were naked or close to it.

A woman, dressed in tight leather from her neck to her heels, was flanked by two naked men, while at another table, a man was down on his knees drawing another man's cock into his mouth.

This place was a kinky playground for the rich.

“No wonder you have such stringent rules for an assistant,” I finally said to Butts.

He rolled his eyes. “I expect perfection, but I will admit, the last assistant I had took one step in here and walked right back out. We have a select clientele, and if you have any qualms about the business conducted here, I don't have time for shenanigans.”

I laughed a bit. He had no idea…

“Mr. Goodfellow assured me, after he learned you'd been hired, that you would be a perfect employee and you'd accommodate our guests' needs as a professional.”

So Tomas had known I was here before I'd even stepped through the door.

“Do you have any objections?” Mr. Butts asked.

“Just another day at the office,” I chirped. We circled the outside of the room. All the while, Mr. Butts checked the tables and made sure the servers were keeping up with the customers. My gaze swept over the room as well. There was more than enough waitstaff. The food swiftly came out of the double doors to the far right and the servers carried the trays with expertise.

Whenever someone dropped something, another staff member quickly swept in to retrieve it.

I noticed Butts had left my side, so I caught back up with him and realized Tomas was gone. I searched the room, but he'd disappeared.

“Let's go, Ms. Jason,” Mr. Butts said. “We have more to see.”

He wasn't kidding. There was a room for every type of carnal desire. We passed a library where a naked, thin man browsed books. Another room with a theater stage where a woman played a concert piano in nothing more than a single ribbon tied to her hair.

“The gentleman looking for books is Mr. Marston Ericson,” Mr. Butts supplied. “He owns stock in one of the biggest investment firms in the Northeast. He is
particular
about our services. We had to install storm doors in the library so that he could read in absolute silence. Apparently, noise from the outside is unacceptable, but if you've got a couple making
merriment
a few feet away he doesn't mind.”

I swallowed the laugh that bubbled up. Butts had yet to say anything crass. With all the
merriment
going on around him, he'd have to use metaphors for everything.

This place was getting more interesting by the minute.

Mr. Butts's phone in his back pocket went off. He sighed and read the screen. “I need to end this tour. We've got an irate guest in the Darkness Suite and security has been called.”

“I can manage it.”

“No, finish going down that hallway.” He pointed where I needed to go. “Familiarize yourself with every room, except the Darkness Suite, until you reach the end.” Butts was somehow furiously typing on his smartphone while feeding me these instructions. “Loop back around until you reach the service elevator you started from.”

I nodded.

“This floor will keep you more than occupied,” he threw over his shoulder as he left.

More than occupied, huh? I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I walked through one glamorous room after another. In one room, there was nothing on the walls but mirrors. Right now, the space was empty, and beautiful golden couches with brocade fabric sat without guests. Instead of continuing down the hallway, I entered the room. What stood out were three beautiful mirrors that ran from the twenty-foot-high ceiling to the floor. The rest of the mirrors were smaller and thinner and wrapped along the walls. As I approached, my heels clicking on the floor, I spotted a reflection behind mine. My breath caught to see Tomas.

I wanted to say something, but for once I was without words. I looked over the mirrors to distract myself. Perhaps there'd be a smudge or something for me to wipe, but the room was immaculate. I ran my fingers along the carved wood framing one of the massive mirrors.

He was closer now, a shadow warming my back.

Don't let him affect you, Carlie.
But it was too late. We were standing too close together again and I could taste his cologne on my tongue. My body quivered from the memory.

“You won't find any flaws in my mirrors.” His gaze swept over me and I wanted to turn around, but I couldn't.

I looked at his beautiful face, from his chin to the perfect curve of his nose. He still had the same tiny scar from where he got hurt one summer. The warmth in his brown eyes darkened and my insides melted. A single chocolate brown curl strayed from the others on his head. There weren't any other flaws in the reflection I saw. He was perfect in my eyes and that was why my feet inched toward the right. If I kept going, I could finish looking over the room and leave as if I hadn't considered temptation.

“They're perfect,” I managed to say.

He was closer now. I took another step to the right.

I waited for him to touch me, but he didn't. “You shouldn't have come here, Carlie,” he breathed.

The resonance in his voice was like a melody my body wanted to sway to.

“I needed a job.”

“You could have worked anywhere. You're very good at what you do.”

I resisted touching the mirror. My face grew flushed with heat and my lips parted.

I waited for him to take a step forward and mold himself onto my backside.

But he didn't budge. We weren't hooking up in a hotel room right now.

The temptation to look in his eyes was almost overwhelming. I could see everything else, but I refused to look at his face anymore.

“I can't stop looking at your lips, Carlie.” His whisper was an invitation I didn't want to accept. “Ever since that night, I've seen you in my mind again and again. And I see those lips you won't kiss me with.”

We had kissed before, though. Many years ago when we'd gone so deep down the rabbit hole neither of us wanted to escape, but when life came crashing in to pull us apart, we came to an unspoken agreement.

Satisfy, but don't get too close.

My heart lurched at the thought. The last time our lips had touched was eight years ago.

This isn't the place, Carlie.

I never fucked in the same place I worked. What Tomas and I did was private. Keeping things private was the only way to separate fantasy from reality.

And at the moment, reality told me that being alone with Tomas wasn't wise.

But he approached me until I couldn't escape.

All I was supposed to do was give her a tour. Sounded simple enough when I saw her arrive that morning, but now that I had her pinned in front of me, I wanted nothing more than to possess her again.

I hovered over the line we used to separate ourselves, but I didn't care. Her blond hair was beautiful and thick, practically beckoning me to grab a fistful and pull her head back to expose her graceful neck. If I was ready to cross that line, I could pull up her skirt and enter her from behind.

Which means my appetite hasn't been sated yet…

Wanting Carlie was nothing new. Our brief meetings always satisfied me for a while, but now that she was close, my control was withering away. I ran my hands down her sides until I found the hem of her skirt. My fingers played with the hem, then gripped it hard.

The words
Bend over
sat on my tongue, and my breath quickened.

If you asked her, she'd surrender to you
.

But her surrender wouldn't be what I truly wanted. I forced myself to add distance between us. I wanted her to turn around and place her arms around me. I wanted to see the joyous light in her eyes when were together outside the bedroom. Carlie could be cold without working hard at it. Ever since that first day we'd met back in NYC when she was sixteen, she always had something to say. Her feelings weren't something she held back if she was hungry, cold, or wanted to have fun. But her heart was something entirely different.

Please turn around, Carlie.

But that wasn't going to happen, so I took another step back.

“Do you have any questions about this floor?” I asked her.

“Not at the moment, but I'm sure if I have any, I can ask Mr. Butts.”

Of course she could ask him. She only came to me for one thing.

“I'll leave you to it, then.”