8. Amy
Amy
The car slows to a stop under an imposing stone archway. Beyond the glass doors, a grand lobby sprawls out, all marble and gold.
Damn.
Swanky.
You can see the ocean, right beyond the beach that identifies as the backyard of the building. There are people everywhere. Everywhere .
Vague suspicion rings bells in my head. Why are we at such a picturesque location for a streaming opportunity? Are we supposed to be playing outside near the ocean? Fuck that. I won't be able to see shit on a screen with the sun out.
I swear, if they hired some dumbass who's never gamed a day in their life to coordinate all of this…
A valet? bellhop? person?—I have no idea what they're called—in a sharp red suit edged in gold (of course) opens the passenger door. Lucky barks with excitement and bounds out onto the cobblestone drive, nearly tangling her leash around his legs.
Fancy.
So fancy.
"Welcome to La Reina Del Mar, miss. Allow me to assist you with your bags."
The young man expertly wrangles Lucky's leash and passes it over with an amused smile. My damn dog tries to follow him, ignoring the pull of the leash.
She's trained. I swear she is. I work with dogs for a living.
I'm pretty sure she's trying to identify as Milo, who's sweet, but stupider than a bag of rocks.
"Lucky, here. Sit."
She ignores me.
Liam chuckles, coming around the side of the Tesla. I wasn't expecting him to come in with me.
Lucky immediately darts over to paw at his pants legs. Liam's suit looks much nicer than the bellboy/valet/greeter/person-who-does-things grabbing my luggage out of the trunk.
My magenta-fuchsia suitcases are stacked onto a gleaming brass luggage cart, and when I protest, the bellhop, whose nametag says Adam, assures me that this is his job.
I wonder how much cash is in my purse. I have a feeling I'm going to need to pull some out at a nearby ATM. It just feels like I'm supposed to be tipping everyone.
Inside, Liam strides ahead to the front desk, his broad shoulders filling out his tailored suit in a way that draws the eye.
For the first time, I have a little doubt. There's no way he's only a driver, right? That suit looks really nice. And the car's a Tesla . Who has a driver with a Tesla?
Especially to pick up someone who streams video games where she blows off heads for a living?
But I don't voice the questions in my head, because after a quick discussion, we're on our way to an elevator. Adam is already gone. I guess they take a separate elevator with all their guests' belongings.
I feel a little naked without my brightly colored suitcases.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I step inside, Lucky squirming in my arms as more people pile in behind us. Liam moves closer, his broad shoulders blocking the crush of bodies.
"You're on the twelfth floor." His deep voice rumbles near my ear, sending all kinds of electric quivers to various, sensitive parts of my body.
"Oh. Okay." My voice comes out breathier than I intend. Shit. My body is out of control and needs a power off button.
Liam reaches past me to press the button, caging me against the wall with his arms. I inhale sharply, catching a hint of his cologne. It's that crisp, clean scent again. Like laundry, with a hint of some sort of delicious, lickable spice.
Mmm.
Liam pushes the buttons other passengers ask for, and every time his arm brushes against me, I want to die over how much heat is pooling between my legs.
Not a single thing he's doing is sexual, and yet my body's over here trying to crawl right into his pants.
Lucky yips and I clutch her tighter, grateful for the distraction. The doors slide shut and the elevator lurches upward. Liam doesn't move away. If anything, he leans in closer, his chest brushing my shoulder.
Fuck. I'm doomed.
My heart hammers in rhythm with the arousal snuggling deep into my nether region, purring an invitation his way.
I should get some distance between us, but I can't. We're stuck in a crowded elevator. He's being a gentleman, and I'm a slut who wants to jump his bones.
Damn.
Am I really that hard up after Paul Snickledick?
His nearness is intoxicating, even if it's just to keep the other passengers from pressing against me.
I risk a glance up at him, but he's staring straight ahead, seemingly unaffected by our proximity. Of course he is. To him, I'm a client. A job. Nothing more.
Professional. Sexy, but professional.
What a good guy.
He likely doesn't even look at women sideways. Pity. I'd invite him for a drink tonight if he'd shown any signs of wanting more.
Though, with my luck, he's fucking married or something.
The elevator stops and the doors open. Liam steps back, gesturing for me to exit first. I hurry out, relieved to get a little space before I hop onto him and yowl like a cat in heat.
You're here to work, not drool over some random stranger. Even if he is insanely hot. Chill, girl. Chill. Stop thinking with your vagene.
I take a deep breath and force myself to focus as Liam leads me down the hall. I'm here to work.
I'm here to work.
Not imagine his ass without those pants on. Nope.
I'm here to fucking work.
Lush carpet muffles our footsteps down the long hallway, and somehow the sound makes the heat flushing my body go crazy.
Like we're in some sort of romance, and he's the love interest who's going to pounce on me as soon as the door opens.
Fucking ridiculous. I'm acting like a lovesick teenager.
Room 1214. The key card clicks and the door swings open to reveal a suite fit for actual royalty.
My jaw drops as I step over the threshold.
Okay. If he were to pounce on me now, I'd be all in for a hot fuck against the door—but since he isn't doing that (regrettably), I'm too busy gawking like a peasant.
Cream and gold wallpaper shimmers subtly in the warm light of a crystal chandelier. The California king bed dominates the room, piled high with plump pillows and a duvet that begs to be dived into face first.
There are rose petals on my bed. What the actual fuck.
French doors lead to what looks like a private balcony with a breathtaking ocean view.
Lucky immediately makes herself at home, hopping onto an overstuffed armchair upholstered in some ridiculously expensive-looking fabric. Her floofy tail swishes as she watches us.
A knock at the door startles me out of my peasant gawking. Liam strides over to open it, and I'm relieved to see Adam with my brightly colored suitcases.
"Where would you like these, miss?" Adam asks, his eyes darting between me and Liam. There's a hint of curiosity there, like he's trying to figure out our relationship.
Join the club, buddy. My body has designs that my head knows have no place here.
"Oh, um, anywhere is fine. Thanks." I wave a hand vaguely, and Adam efficiently deposits my luggage near the dresser before disappearing with a polite nod, but not before Liam slides a few bills into his hand.
I want to protest, but those blue-green eyes meet mine, and I can't get the words out. It's like he's warning me not to protest.
There's no way he's a driver. It's settled.
Liam lingers, his hands in his pockets as he surveys the room. That fanciful part of me, the one in my panties, decides that it's because he doesn't want to leave. He'd rather bare it all and stay a while.
"Well, I'll leave you to get settled. If you need anything during your stay, give me a call. I'm at your service."
"Thanks." I hesitate, then decide, fuck it . "Can I ask you something?"
One brow arches. "Of course."
"Are you really just a driver? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that. Shit. I'm not trying to offend you or anything..."
Real smooth, Amy. Real smooth.
But Liam grins, a flash of white teeth against tanned skin. "The boss gave direct orders to pick you up. Consider me your exclusive driver for the week."
"Oh." My cheeks are hot. I know how I look when I blush; I'm redder than a ripe tomato. Fuck. Is he flirting with me? Or just being professional? Why am I being so fucking awkward? I'm used to taking charge, and yet I'm all off balance around this man. "That's good to know."
"I'm happy to show you around town, if you have any free time." Liam's eyes gleam with something that might be an invitation. "Maybe meet for a drink at the bar one night?"
Double fuck. He is flirting. At least, I think so.
My body is all in, of course, but I'm flustered, my brain suddenly as functional as a fried motherboard. "Yeah, that would be nice."
"Great." Liam flashes me another knee-weakening smile. "I'll leave you to unpack. Enjoy your stay, Amy."
With a wink, he's gone, the door closing softly behind him. I stare at it for a long moment, my thoughts whirling.
Did that really just happen? Did the hot as hell driver basically ask me out?
No. He was only being friendly. Professional.
Right?
Ugh. I'm reading way too much into this.
Lucky barks from her perch on the chair, her head cocked as if to say, "What the hell was that?"
"Don't judge me," I mutter, flopping back on the bed. Rose petals puff up around me, and I groan.
I'm in so much trouble.
There's no way I'm going to contain my inner slut if that man keeps smiling at me like that.
My exclusive driver for the week. Hah.
That's assuming I get out of bed once I get him into it.
Staring at the ceiling, I barely notice Lucky's kisses as she jumps onto the bed in a grand feat for a tiny little Pomeranian.
"I should have brought my fucking vibrator."