Worth Every Penny (Hawkston Billionaires #1)

1. NICO

1

NICO

T he blonde from last night is still half-asleep, or pretending to be, as she drapes her leg over my hip and squeezes. Fuck’s sake. We might have slept together, but morning cuddles are definitely not on the agenda.

She grinds against me and gives a little moan. It’s a lot quieter than the screaming she was doing when her fifth orgasm hit, but there’s no way she’s asleep. I grit my teeth and shove her leg off.

Her eyes flutter open and she lets out a sultry yawn like I didn’t nearly push her off the bed. “Hey, handsome.”

“Morning.” I flick back the sheets, exposing us both to the chill.

Her smile disappears and the seductive look in her eye flattens. She knows what this is. She knew last night because I must have said it about a hundred times.

One night only.

I’m not looking for something serious.

This is just a casual fuck, okay? Nothing more.

She agreed; enthusiastically, too. But they always look bitter in the morning, no matter how explicit I’ve been.

I get up and head to the shower, hoping she’s gone by the time I get back.

She isn’t.

I have a towel wrapped around my waist, but she’s still naked on the bed, one knee raised, running her hand up and down her leg like it might tempt me back into the sheets. Her pussy splays open like the centerfold in an anatomy textbook as she slides her fingers towards it and raises an eyebrow at me; a clear invitation if ever I saw one.

But I have a strict rule about these things. Once the sun comes up, it’s over. No point encouraging them if there’s no future. It’s not fair to anyone.

The moment she reads the wordless rejection on my face, she pulls her legs together and sits up. “Can I take a shower too?” she asks.

On the scale of 1 to bitter , I’d put her about a 3. Maybe this one’s a realist.

I nod my head towards the ensuite. She disappears, but the sound of running water doesn’t follow, and a moment later she’s back, holding up the tiny bottles of hotel toiletries. “Can I keep these?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Knock yourself out.”

She grins and cuddles them to her chest. “Thanks. These are lush. You have such good stuff at Hawkston Hotels. I love the shampoo.”

“You’ve stayed here before?” I don’t know why I’m asking because I don’t give a fuck, but she chatters away, oblivious to my disinterest.

“Not this exact hotel. I stayed in the one in Istanbul on a business trip. And the Hawkston New York with my sister last Christmas. That one’s fab. Such luxury. The Christmas tree in the lobby—it must be thirty feet tall. It’s like the one at Rockefeller Center.”

“Not quite.”

Ignoring my dismissive response, she returns to cradling the toiletries like she’s just given birth to them before her expression brightens with an idea. “Hey, I don’t suppose I could get a room discount in the future? You know, like, as a thank you?”

I shutter my eyes for a second. Unbelievable . This woman needs to disappear. Even my chivalry has limits. “Sorry, we don’t do that.”

She whistles a sigh. “Shame. Really do love these places.”

Truth be told, I’ve never been a huge fan of Hawkston Hotels. Not that I’d ever admit that to my father. He built the hotel chain from the ground up to become the largest in the world. Corporate luxury—large, soulless and functional.

I prefer a little boutique place, like the Lansen Luxury hotel chain I’m about to buy. But given that I just returned from the US and my brothers wanted to celebrate, we met at the Hawkston Mayfair. Slap bang in the middle of London’s West End. Crown jewel in the portfolio.

“I’ve never slept with an actual Hawkston though.” Her vivacious tone cuts through my thoughts, sending a spark of irritation up my spine. She looks excited enough to explode. “What did you say your name was?”

I would’ve given a fake name last night, but Seb, my youngest brother, was intent on seducing every attractive woman in the bar downstairs by telling them we owned the place.

Fucking idiot.

I make a mental note not to pick up women in one of our hotels again, and quickly calculate the risks of telling her my real name. She could Google it in thirty seconds, so I figure I might as well.

“Nico.”

“Nico.” She clicks the consonants like she’s tasting it. “Nice name.”

“Thanks.” I don’t ask for hers. I don’t need it.

She heads back into the bathroom, and the water starts running this time. I take the opportunity to get dressed. I hate putting on last night’s clothes, but at least I had the presence of mind to hang up my suit and fold my shirt.

The hotel phone rings and I pick it up. “Yes?”

My brother speaks. “Breakfast? I hear the full English is good here.” Seb sniggers at his own joke.

I don’t return his amusement. “How many people are in your room?”

“I’m alone.”

“You’re shitting me.”

He laughs, and I can picture that one-sided dimple on his cheek that women seem to love. It’s the ultimate contrast to the strong Hawkston jaw we all share.

“They just left,” Seb admits. “I’m pretty sure one of them nicked a hand towel. Took the fucking toiletries too. What’s up with that?”

“Token of a great night?”

Seb laughs again.

“Or maybe,” I say, “You made them feel so filthy they needed the extra soap.”

“Both. Definitely both.” He chuckles, then his tone changes. “So, food?”

“I can’t. I’ve got a breakfast meeting with Jack Lansen.”

“About their boutique hotel chain?” Seb perks up at this.

“Yup. We’ve got to thrash out the details, but we’re close to agreeing on a figure.”

I pin the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can brush a hand down my crumpled sleeve. Damn . Looks like I slept in it. Thank God it’s only Jack I’m meeting. He’s my best friend and won’t care if I turn up hungover and in last night’s clothes, but my pride isn’t keen on the idea.

“Rather you than me.” Seb groans. “I’m so hungover, I couldn’t negotiate shit right now. Is Kate coming?”

An odd contraction occurs around my heart. Kate . Jack’s little sister. “No,” I say, dissociating from whatever the fuck is happening inside my chest. “She’s not involved.”

Seb makes a contemplative hmm-ing sound, but before I can wonder what he means by it, the woman reappears from the bathroom, swathed in a plush, white towel. I hang up on my brother without saying goodbye.

She gives me the once over. “Goddamn, you look good in a suit. I think you might be the hottest man I’ve ever fucked.”

Heard that before . “I’m blushing,” I deadpan.

She giggles. “Are you sure you don’t wanna do this again?”

“Once is more than enough.” My voice is completely neutral, but I imbue the words with just enough respect to placate her. “But thank you.”

Her brow creases, like she’s unsure if I’ve insulted her. She must decide I haven’t because she drops the towel, props one foot on the end of the unmade bed, and starts massaging the Hawkston Hotel’s body lotion into her thigh in long, lingering swipes.

She’s in no hurry to get out of here.

The phone rings.

“Me again,” Seb says when I answer. “The sober Hawkston just turned up at my room.”

My eyes widen. “Matt came back?”

“Probably couldn’t wait to get the fuck away from Gemma,” Seb whispers, all levity gone from his voice.

Matt, our middle brother, ditched us early last night when it was clear where the evening was headed. He’d never cheat on his wife, but everyone knows his marriage is fucked. I’d take these empty one night stands over that shit any day.

There’s a fumbling noise on the other end of the line, and when Matt’s deep voice sounds, I realise they’ve passed the handset between them. “I’ve got you a clean suit,” he says. “And shirt.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

A relieved chuckle escapes me. “You’d make a great PA if you want to quit the hotel business.”

He grunts. “Figured you wouldn’t have the foresight to think about your clothes, beyond how quickly you could get out of them.”

I wasn’t that fucking desperate . “I’ll have you know I folded my shirt last night.”

Matt scoffs. “Course you did.” I can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “I called your housekeeper. She sent it all over in a car.”

“Tell me she sent boxers.”

“And socks. There’s even a bottle of cologne in here. They’re at reception. I was going to bring them up, but Seb suspected you might have company.”

I side-eye the woman, who’s squeezing back into the little black dress she was wearing last night. She notices me looking and turns on the sultry eyes again.

“She’s leaving,” I say pointedly.

The woman pouts like a dejected toddler, blinking rapidly at me, but I’m immune to the act. I put my hand over the phone and hold it away from my mouth, so there’s no doubt I’m talking to her.

“Thanks for a great night, but I’ve got back-to-back meetings all day.” Her expression doesn’t change and I sigh. “You need to get out of this hotel room in the next five minutes or I’m calling security.”

She scowls and flaps a pair of black nylon tights in my direction. “Jesus. Fuck. All right, all right.” She pulls the tights on so fast that a ladder appears all the way up the back of her leg and she glances down to inspect the damage, cursing under her breath. Her eyes flash at me like it’s my fault.

She picks up her shoes and flips me the middle finger before striding into the corridor barefoot.

The door slams and I bring the phone back to my ear. “Coast’s clear. Can you bring the stuff up to my room?”

Matt’s laughter blows a harsh breath down the phone. “Only you, Nico. Only you.”