Astrid
Istudied the entrance to the Huxley Grand LA as the driver rolled past. The hotel was simultaneously inviting and imposing. Or maybe I was just intimidated because I knew who was waiting inside for me.
Holden freaking Hansley.
I’d avoided searching for him on the internet, but Charlie hadn’t had the same compunction. She’d been telling me all about him for days.
He was one of the best players in the NHL.
One of the highest paid too. I supposed I should’ve guessed as much.
You didn’t blow five figures for one night with someone unless you were rich or financially reckless or both.
I mean…shit. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or to feel cheap. Like he was paying for my company.
The driver rounded a corner and punched in a code before a discreet garage door opened.
He pulled in, parking next to an elevator where a uniformed employee waited.
The driver opened my door, and I thanked him as I stepped out of the Range Rover.
I smoothed my hands down my skirt, feeling my nerves ratchet up another notch.
What if Graham was here? My sister’s brother-in-law was one of the owners of the Huxley Grand empire. What would I do if I ran into him or Jasper—his brother?
I debated taking the elevator to the lobby, exiting the front doors, and calling for a taxi, but I knew I needed to see this through.
I so rarely did something for myself, and I’d come all this way.
Nearly talked myself out of coming several times while waiting in traffic.
But I’d put all that effort into my appearance.
Well, Charlie had anyway. She’d done a kick-ass job on my makeup—as always. I couldn’t let her down.
Oh, who was I kidding?
I could try to rationalize my decision until I was blue in the face, but the truth was, I wanted this. Wanted him. I needed to know if our insane chemistry was a fluke. I needed the kind of release only Holden could provide.
Because Charlie was right. I was close to breaking, even if I wouldn’t admit it.
I knew it was a bad sign that I secretly wished I’d get sick so I could have an excuse to take a break from school, work, responsibilities, life—all of it.
And if I didn’t do something soon, didn’t change something soon… I was going to crack.
Hence, tonight’s little act of rebellion.
Holden was the last person I should be sneaking around with, which was what made it so thrilling. The wrongness of it was so completely opposite of my usual decisions that I couldn’t help but delight in it a little.
“Good evening, miss,” the hotel employee said. “Welcome to the Huxley Grand LA.”
“Thank you.”
I glanced around. I hoped I didn’t look as suspicious as I felt. It was hard not to when I was sneaking around, spending the night with one of my dad’s players and a man who was often recognized on the street.
“I have this.” I presented the key to him.
“Of course, miss. Here you are.” He handed me a gold keycard.
It was heavy and looked like a fancy credit card.
The kind with no limit and all the perks.
“This is a private elevator that will take you directly to your suite. Your butler, Gregory, will meet you upstairs. He will see to all your needs.”
All my needs?
I had a feeling Holden wouldn’t like that. I imagined his stern expression, and I stifled a giggle at the thought. He clearly wasn’t someone who would like to share—not that he had any right to be possessive over me. Even if the idea secretly thrilled me, this was only for one night.
I stood there for a moment, wondering if I really knew what I was getting myself into. A clandestine meeting at a luxury hotel with an NHL player. What if I was actually walking into a sex club or, or…an orgy?
“Miss?” the employee asked. “Are you okay?”
“I, um—” I shook my head. “Yes. I’m good. But you’ll probably be wanting this.” I held out the diamond-encrusted key pendant, even though I was reluctant to relinquish it.
“Yours to keep.”
I watched his expression to see if he was joking, but he was completely serious. I tried to hand it back to him.
“I cannot accept that, miss. I’m not the intended recipient.”
“I, uh…” I swallowed. “Okay.” Was this a gift from Holden? If so, what was he thinking, giving me a piece of jewelry that had to cost five figures or more?
That was the kind of thing you might do for a girlfriend or a wife, not…a fling. And this wasn’t even a fling. It was one night.
Yeah. Heard that before.
One. Night. I reminded myself.
I held the golden keycard up to the card reader, and the doors to the elevator opened immediately. Nerves and excitement skittered through me, making my hands shake. The employee placed his hand over the door, ensuring it would stay open until I was safely inside.
“Please enjoy your stay,” he said as the doors closed.
I stared at my reflection in the mirrored doors.
As the elevator began its ascent, I smoothed a hand over my hair—a short, blunt bob that was so different from the long, wavy style Emerson preferred.
I was always so busy that I rarely wore any makeup.
I was grateful Charlie had gone with a neutral look that enhanced my attributes, while still making me look like me.
That said, my hair and makeup had been the easy part. I’d agonized over my outfit, not knowing what to wear. What to expect.
I mean, obviously, I knew whatever I wore would end up on the floor. Clearly. But I didn’t have many clothes that weren’t business casual or scrubs. And he’d already stripped my favorite dress from my body the night we’d met.
I would’ve borrowed something from Em, but most of her stuff wouldn’t fit. She had a more athletic build, and I was curvier. I always had been, but I also wasn’t a former Olympic heptathlete and current Peloton ambassador.
Now that Emerson had become so famous, I tried even harder to distinguish myself from her in appearance.
Not that most people would realize that.
They saw me, and they thought I was her.
It didn’t matter that I was a few inches shorter.
That my boobs were bigger. My hips wider.
I got asked for selfies, autographs. Sometimes, I was even given exclusive treatment, despite my persistent efforts to explain that I wasn’t Em.
Hell, it had gotten so bad at times that Emerson and Nate had offered to pay for me to have a bodyguard from Hudson Security. Their whole family had executive protection. And considering how often I was mistaken for Em, they viewed it as a necessary precaution.
I’d refused. I just wanted to live a normal life. I was perfectly content to fly under the radar. Another reason why this…thing with Holden could never go beyond tonight.
I didn’t want to live in the spotlight. I didn’t want the attention or the scrutiny.
Hell, sometimes I considered moving. Leaving LA, just to feel like more of my own person. But then I remembered how much I loved it here. How much I loved being close to my family. And I knew I could never leave.
God, even my thoughts were rambling. It was…disconcerting for someone who was used to being in control.
I gripped the elevator railing for support. It wasn’t too late to back out. I could…
The doors opened to reveal a foyer that spanned two stories. Lush green plants covered two of the walls, reaching to the skylight at the ceiling. A waterfall cascaded down one of them, the sound relaxing and pleasant.
Still no sight of Holden. I continued on, hesitantly exploring the space, feeling as if I were trespassing. Another hotel employee emerged from deeper within the suite—the butler, I presumed.
“Good evening, miss. I’m Gregory, your butler. May I get you a beverage? We have wine, liquor, water, soda, custom cocktails.”
“I’ll have a sauvignon blanc, please. If you have it.”
The suite was massive, even bigger than I’d expected. A custom-designed Louis Vuitton ping-pong table took center stage in the living room. A wall of windows provided an insane view of the LA skyline.
All the finishes were exquisite, though that didn’t surprise me, considering they’d hired Lauren Clarke as the interior decorator. She’d been responsible for the decor of my parents’ ski chalet in Vail, and she had an eye for design.
“Of course,” Gregory said. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
I was trying to figure out how to ask if Holden had arrived or if I even should.
The Huxley Grand was known for its discretion, but what if Holden had booked the suite under a pseudonym?
Was I supposed to avoid using his name to preserve his anonymity?
Ugh…the longer I had to wait, the more I doubted everything, including my decision to come.
I wondered if Holden was doing that on purpose. Not that he’d want me to back out, but he might want to make me wait, like I’d made him wait all these weeks. Part of me knew I’d deserve it. Even if the idea pissed me off.
“Here you are.” Gregory handed me a glass of wine, and I thanked him. “Mr. Hansley will arrive soon. In the meantime, he left a note for you in the bedroom.” Gregory indicated the direction of the hallway.
Um. Okay. “Thanks.” I stood and headed in that direction. I peeked inside the door. Another amazing view and the biggest bed I’d ever seen. And a sultry headboard created a feeling of decadence and luxury.
I closed the bedroom door, wondering what the plan was for Gregory.
Would the butler stay in the suite all night?
Or just…be on call? I hoped it was the latter because I got the feeling that Holden would want to fuck me on each and every available surface.
At least if the past was any indication. And I was here for it.
That was all I was here for—fucking. Nothing more.
The bedding looked fit for a queen, though I imagined actual royalty had stayed here. A black box tied with a red ribbon rested on top of the bed. There was a note beside it, the words handwritten in his scrawl.
Wear this and nothing else.
Wait for me on the bed.
H