Chapter Ten
Wes
I jerked off in an electrical service closet after leaving the room where Adam and Troy were…working. In the last several hours I’ve ducked into a private bathroom or my temporary hotel room on the second floor more than once to do the same thing all over again.
Now it’s seven in the morning, and I’m spent physically and emotionally, too keyed up and too exhausted at the same time.
Thank goodness it was a slow night at the Premiere. My mind has been going in circles, even before my run-in with Adam up in one of the VIP suites. But more so ever since.
Why didn’t I stop him? The question has tumbled in my head until it’s shiny and smooth. Until all the angles look the same. Every inch of me burns with an exquisite mix of arousal and shame.
Why the hell didn’t I pull my hand away when Adam guided me to touch him? Why didn’t I want to?
In theory, I don’t have a problem with being something other than straight. My brother has had relationships with both men and women. In actual practice, though? I was with Gina for so many years. I never considered the possibility of other people, period.
Feels like I’m way too old to become someone new.
This is less spiritual rebirth and more like I’m standing on quicksand.
My stomach grumbles, and I put my mental roller coaster to the side. Everything will look better after I get some nutrients into my body.
“Morning, Cheyenne.” I approach the lobby smoothie bar as it’s opening, needing an energy boost. “Berry smoothie with a shot of green tea, please.”
Most mornings I try to go out for a run after my shift, but an earlier text from my brother said his security friend was going to stop by. I need to make sure my brain is still online for that conversation.
Cheyenne winces, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mr. Monroe. Max—I mean, Mr. Walker—said he’d have my job if I gave you any more free drinks.”
Fucking Max.
“That’s fine. I can charge it to my room.”
Another apologetic look. “He also said not to charge things to your room. Said you’re not supposed to be here much longer? He, uh, went around telling everybody.”
Great. Fantastic. Fuck it. I’m too tired to deal with this shit right now.
“Not a big deal.” Even in my own ears, my cheerfulness sounds false. “My wallet’s up in my room. I’ll drop by later.” Despite my frustration, I manage a smile.
Except I probably won’t stop by later, because I’ve recently locked all my credit cards in a hidden tool compartment in my car to keep from using them. I’m not entirely certain about the current state of my checking account, so my debit card is out too.
I’m at the front office pilfering cough drops as well as a packet of chalky tablets for my stomach when a familiar young man comes in, followed by a guy whose hard jaw and narrowed eyes make him look as if he’d put your head through a table simply for looking at him funny.
“Hey, Mr. Monroe’s brother!” Ravi, that’s who the younger one is.
He’s at the university gym some days when I go to meet my brother for a workout.
Also, he stayed here at the hotel not too long ago.
On the VIP level. His bill was covered by the owner of a private sex dungeon or something a couple of towns over, which means he’s yet another sex worker.
Or at least, he used to be.
The man behind him, the one in tactical pants with a chip on his shoulder, steps up to me, reaching an arm across the check-in desk to shake. “Westlake Monroe? Liam Masters. Your brother said you wished to speak with me.”
“Well, actually, Mr. Monroe told PJ, who told me, who told Liam, but I guess the end result is the same.” Ravi puts his finger to his chin dimple, clearly giving the communication chain serious thought.
Liam looks at the young man fondly. “Nobody likes it when people ‘well actually,’ baby. Especially not when the end result is the same.”
Ravi responds with a “Sorry, Daddy” that doesn’t sound at all sorry, followed by a satisfied smile and an obvious roll of his eyes. The way Liam’s looking back at him? I’m not sure I should be here right now.
My awkward foot shuffling must break the spell. Liam clears his throat and gestures to me. “Someplace we can talk privately?”
There are so many questions on the tip of my tongue about the relationship these two appear to have. None of them are at all appropriate.
Working in a luxury hotel, I’ve learned to be the opposite of interested in people’s personal business. Whatever goes on in the VIP suites stays in the VIP suites. My job is to keep things running smoothly and make their lives easier while they’re guests here.
Basically, I’m a talking microwave. Microwaves don’t ask questions or have opinions. They beep. They overheat.
They short-circuit when nobody’s looking.
Suddenly, though, this man who looks awfully close to my age walks in with someone I know is in college because I’ve seen him swipe his student ID at the gym.
He’s calling him baby. Ravi’s calling him Daddy.
There’s so much heat between them I fear for the safety of the potted banana trees lining the shiny marble lobby.
So, yes. I definitely have some questions. For a friend. For…science.
Ignoring the curious looks from the morning desk clerk, I lead the two into a small conference room we rent out for meetings.
Once inside with the door closed, I get right down to business. “We’ve had several employees fail to show up recently. Some even disappeared in the middle of their shifts. No trace, no email, no phone call, no responses when I tried to reach out.”
Liam’s brow furrows. “Isn’t that fairly common in the hotel industry? High turnover?”
“Sure,” I concede. “Typically we see an average loss of one to two people per month here. Maybe more, depending on the time of year, but the numbers year over year have been fairly steady. I went back through some of our employment records to confirm. Lately, it’s closer to one or two a week.”
The man rubs his forehead, and like everyone else I’ve spoken to about this, I can see he’s already dismissing it. “There could be so many reasons for people not showing up to work at a high-traffic hotel. It’s not necessarily anything awful.”
Urgency pushes my pulse higher. “The housekeeping manager has polled the housekeeping staff about the work environment. Nothing unusual has been reported.” Like the hotel GM being a dick. Annoying, but typical. I keep that one to myself.
Liam nods, considering. Then he shakes his head. “It’s the holidays. People could simply want time off. Workers at minimum wage are notoriously unreliable.”
Dammit. I’m tired of having this conversation over and over, tired of wondering if I’m the one who’s wrong.
Rubbing my hand across my jaw does little to ease the ache from clenching.
I used to be one of those “unreliable” employees.
This isn’t an easy town to find work in, and nobody can convince me that that many people would simply walk away from reliable income.
“The most recent employee to not show up is a single mom with an infant. I know she needs the job, and she’s mentioned not having much in the way of family.
It doesn’t seem like her to simply not show up.
” I step forward. “Maybe I’m crazy, but we’ve had some good people simply disappear, most of whom I’ve known to be responsible employees.
The general manager’s already blown me off, but I really don’t think I’m wrong here. ”
“People have all sorts of things going on we don’t always know about, Mr. Monroe. This single mother of yours could have been ill, or maybe she couldn’t get childcare. Maybe she got a better offer.”
“She would have called.” No, I’m not certain. I’m grasping at straws.
“Daddy.” Ravi slides an arm around Liam’s waist. “Can’t you at least look into it a little? The downside of Mr. Monroe’s brother being right is much worse than if he’s wrong.”
Hell. His eyes are so wide and liquid even I’m dying to give the young man whatever he wants. I don’t even care that he keeps referring to me as Fallon’s brother instead of by name.
Never thought I’d see the day when I was grateful to my brother’s boyfriend or one of his buddies for anything, but here I am. Thanks to Ravi, Liam might reconsider.
Sure enough, after a brief stare-off, Liam gives me a nod.
“If you can, get me the names of the people you’re concerned about.
I can’t do a whole lot to investigate in the hotel if the general manager isn’t on board, but I can try to find out what the employees might be up to.
Until you know more, though, assume they’re fine. The chances are good that they are.”
“Thank you.” I take down his email address so I can send him the information.
“By the way.” He stops on our way back out to the lobby. “Do you happen to know a Joseph Rigby? I believe he’s a guest here.”
“Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
Liam nods, looking for a moment as if there’s more he wants to say.
I’m not supposed to share guest information, but… “Do you need me to?—”
“Nah. It’s nothing I can back up yet. I’ll let you know.” He puts his hand on Ravi’s shoulder, who’s busy chattering about the butternut squash ravioli he had while he stayed here at the hotel.
“Can we get some before we leave, Daddy?”
Liam catches my curious stare. “The more he thinks I’m likely to be embarrassed by it, the more he calls me that.” Then he grins. “It’s fine, because I’ll punish him for it later.”
“I…” What am I supposed to say here? “Okay.”
“Guys!” Ravi calls to someone, frantically waving his arms to catch their attention.
There’s an abrupt shift in the air as two men and a child approach.