Chapter 9
Jamie
Dinner was fucking torture. I can still taste a mix of the two of us on my tongue and watching Aubrey laugh at a joke or greeting someone with a kiss to each cheek had something primal in me wanting to storm over and mark my territory.
I had to excuse myself early, not only so I could start my bartending shift, but to keep myself from obsessing over her.
Hours later, no matter how tempting it is to reach out to Aubrey and invite her down to the bar to keep me company, I stop myself every time I pull my phone from my pocket.
Lines are already blurred enough as is. In a single day, I’ve gone from perpetual bachelor to fantasizing about ways to keep her here in Canada with me.
The storm has picked up. Since Isaac has insisted that all of his staff and the hotel staff have priority for rooms, the hotel has no vacancies, and he’s camping out in the lobby with a blanket.
A bit of a martyr, but it’ll earn him points with the media for his selflessness.
When I offered my room, he refused. I just wish I wasn’t sharing with anyone so Aubrey could stay with me.
She’s been clear that this is just a casual fling for her, a hookup, but it’s more than that for me.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, and it doesn’t help that I’ll be seeing her at the scheduled events for the rest of the week and won’t be able to touch her.
As I’m polishing glasses, I hear the squeak of a stool.
I glance up, finding Olivia Harris taking a seat, appearing less than happy to see me.
My heart thunders against my ribcage, worried Aubrey may have said something.
I make my way over and offer a greeting as cordially as possible, “Good evening, Governor Harris.”
She doesn’t reply, staring at me as if she’s trying to work something out, then blurts, “Oh, um, I’m sorry. Have we met?”
“No.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Not officially. We spoke on the phone a few weeks ago.” Olivia checks my name tag and her brows furrow.
If she doesn’t recognize me or my name, then there’s a good chance Aubrey hasn’t mentioned me and she’s just stressed from the long day.
Hoping to put her at ease, I explain, “James Wilson. I work for the Prime Minister.”
“James!” she beams. “Hi. Sorry, yes, I remember you. You’re part of the communications team, right?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “But I also work evenings here. So, what can I get you tonight?”
She ponders it for a moment. “I’d love a glass of white wine. Maybe Pinot Grigio? I don’t have a brand preference, so whatever you have open is totally fine.”
“Of course.”
There’s no way in hell I’ll pull an already-open bottle for her.
I find one in the back of the fridge that’s perfectly chilled and uncork it.
Retrieving a freshly polished wine glass, I set it in front of her, and wanting to stay in her good graces, give her a heavy pour—alcohol usually helps with that.
Olivia takes a sip, speaking into her glass, “Thanks, James. Or should I call you Jamie?”
“I prefer Jamie, if that’s all right.”
She offers a soft smile. “Well, Jamie, I hope you don’t mind me asking, why…” Trailing off, she gestures vaguely to the bar.
I chuckle, feeling a bit of déjà vu from my conversation with Aubrey last night. “I don’t mind at all. I promise, my job pays well, but I’m hoping to save enough to move to California.”
She lifts her glass. “Ah, so this is a bribe.”
Eyes wide, I shake my head. “Hardly. My father lives there, though I wouldn’t say no if you were to offer me a job,” I admit. “I admire all of the work you’ve done, even before running for Governor.”
Olivia blushes at the praise. “Thank you. Are you from Ottawa?”
“My mom and I are, but my dad’s in San Francisco.” Damn it, why did I admit that? I must still be drunk on Aubrey’s cunt. I quickly shift the conversation. “Is this your first time here?”
“Not my first time in Canada, but first time in Ottawa,” she replies wistfully, and with how her politics align, I truly believe she’d be happy here.
Maybe that’s Isaac’s plan? I can’t prove it, but I’m positive he still has feelings for her.
“I’ve visited B.C. and Nova Scotia before,” she adds.
“I’m hoping once the snow lets up, I’ll be able to explore a little. ”
My nose scrunches up a little. “Sorry, but you won’t have a chance to sightsee while you’re here. Rumor has it, we’ll be snowed-in until the end of the conference.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” The levity drains from her face.
“That the storm won’t be clear until the last day of the conference.”
As she checks her phone, she mutters, “Shit.”
“Could be worse.” I shrug. “You could be the Prime Minister.”
“Isaac?” She glances up and stammers, “I mean, Prime Minister Banks?”
“Yeah, the hotel is booked, and he made sure all of his staff, as well as hotel staff, had rooms. I tried to give up my bed, but he insisted he would just stay in the lobby.”
“You’re not serious.” Olivia lets out a full laugh.
I gesture with a nod toward the restaurant exit. “Go see for yourself.”
Downing half of her wine, she asks for the check, and I charge it to her room. She’s a little flustered, and perhaps Isaac isn’t the only one harboring feelings. As she rushes out, I call after her, “Have a good night!”
“You too.” Olivia powerwalks out of the restaurant, her heels clacking with each step.
I continue my side work, and about ten minutes later while I’m checking on a woman at the end of the bar, movement to my left catches my eye. I do a double take—Isaac.
“James?”
I check to ensure no one is in earshot. If I’m about to get fired, I’m not about to have my other boss hear it. “Oh. Hello, Prime Minister.”
“What are you doing behind the bar?”
“I’m working,” I reply carefully. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. You work here?”
Why is everyone always so surprised when they find out that I moonlight here? “Just part-time. But I assure you, it doesn’t affect my other job.”
He nods, but his expression is unreadable. “There was a woman here earlier—Governor Harris. Did you, by chance, tell her that I was in the lobby?”
Shit. “It sort of slipped out. She didn’t know we were snowed-in for the week, and I accidentally mentioned you didn’t have a room.” It’s not entirely a lie, but anyone who saw him would’ve had questions as to why the Canadian Prime Minister was sleeping in a hotel lobby.
“It’s fine, no harm done. She’s an old friend. What did she order?”
“A glass of wine. She didn’t finish it, though, and rushed to find you. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles to himself. “It’s fine. I’d like to have a bottle of that wine delivered to her.”
I find her ticket from earlier. “Shouldn’t be a problem. She charged it to her room, so I can have someone deliver it.” Setting the bill folder on the bar, I retrieve a fresh bottle from the fridge.
I’m about to check the room service schedule to ensure I can have it delivered quickly when Isaac insists, “Actually, no need. I can drop it off to her. I’ll send her a quick text to see which room she’s in.”
He takes out a credit card without waiting on a check, and I put it in the system to charge it.
Something’s not right about all of this, and as I notice Olivia’s check is still on the bar, I can’t help wondering if he looked at it for her room number.
I can’t exactly accuse him of anything, because if I’m wrong, it’s almost a guarantee I’ll be sacked.
Hell, even if I’m right, he’ll probably still fire me.
Once he’s left with the bottle, I open his bill folder—a fifty-percent tip.
I’m not sure if it’s bribery to keep quiet or if he’s just feeling generous, but with only a few minutes left before I’m off, my mind shifts from the strange interactions with Isaac and Olivia, curious if fate will bring Aubrey to me before the night’s over.