Chapter Four #2
I turn around, then feel my jaw drop at the sight of the couch I’ve been counting on.
It’s nothing like anything I’ve ever seen before.
A gorgeous, lacquered wood frame is intricately carved with beautiful flower and carp details.
But it only has two three-inch-thick cushions in celadon blue and cream.
“Those offer bare minimum padding. Your butt’ll get sore if you want to lie there for more than ten minutes,” he says. “And it’s just long enough for you to curl up on…like an overcooked, rubbery shrimp nobody wants.”
“I don’t think this is really the time for seafood similes—”
He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll get one for the firm. Keeps meetings short and to the point.”
I shake my head. “Sacker would rather die before cutting down one of his presentations.”
“He won’t be getting any extra padding. We’ll see how long his bony ass can last.”
I cross my arms. It’s that or throw them up in the air in surrender, and quitting is never an option at the firm. Still… What’s the best solution now? “I’ll think of something,” I say, missing my airplane seat already. At least it was long enough and had sufficient cushioning for my back.
“Really? Like what? Sleeping in the bathtub?”
Ooooh! “If there’s one big enough, that could work.”
“And if I want to use the facilities in the middle of the night?”
I pull my lips in because saying, “Then what do you suggest?” isn’t going to end well. Rhys hates it when his subordinates bring him issues without solutions, even if he rips them into pieces. Besides, telling him to hold it isn’t going to work. His Majesty doesn’t do patience.
He pushes the sliding door to the bedroom. “You reserved a king, right?”
“Yes.” I stop at the sight of the beautifully made four-poster bed in front of us. “Why is it so small? Or is it just me?”
He purses his lips. “It’s not you. It looks a bit…snug.”
“Are they kidding? A system glitch, and now this? Is the hotel ripping us off?”
“You’re the one who made the reservation.” Rhys gestures at me to handle it.
I pick up the phone on the nightstand and dial 0. “Hello? I’m in the Imperial Grand Suite. Isn’t this room supposed to have a king-size bed?”
“Yes, ma’am,” comes a polite female voice.
“But it looks small.”
A three-beat-long pause. “It’s most definitely a king bed. The suite has never had any other type. We don’t put queen beds in suites.”
“But why does it look so small?”
She makes a thoughtful noise. “If you lie down, maybe it won’t feel so small…?”
Argh! Forget it. It’s obvious she doesn’t understand. Or maybe she’s just following a manual that says, Keep telling the customer the bed is a “king bed” until they give up. Some five-star treatment!
“We’ll see. Thank you.” I hang up and turn to Rhys. “Well, this is it. The ‘king bed.’” I make air quotes.
He studies the mattress thoughtfully, then turns to me. “Fine. We’re professionals. We can share it.”
“No, no way. It’s too small.”
He narrows his eyes, looks me up and down. “If you thrash around—”
“I don’t!”
He doesn’t bother to acknowledge my protest. “You need to decide. I’m not sleeping on the floor. And if you snore, I’m kicking you out.” He grabs his personal toiletries and underwear from his carry-on and disappears into the bathroom.
“And if you snore, I’m kicking you out,” I say, sotto voce, at the closed door.
“I heard that!” comes his gravelly voice from the other side.
“You heard the voicemail on my phone!” I lie, then quickly open my suitcase. I have to pick out the things I need before he comes out. There are certain items he doesn’t need to see. Like my underwear—
Shit. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I have no clean underwear left. I didn’t think about it, since we were supposed to be heading home.
If I had my own room, it wouldn’t be a big deal because I could just handwash a couple and hang them over a towel rack to dry. But I’m not leaving my undies in the bathroom for Rhys to see.
I snatch the hotel laundry bag from the closet drawer and check the order sheet. The garments must be dropped off by four to qualify for the expedited morning delivery at seven. Otherwise, I’m not getting them back until five the next afternoon.
Great. The clock next to the bed reads 8:54.
I’m not going commando all day tomorrow.
Not that I have anything against it—I did it on an anniversary with Jeffrey, but it’s just not an option around Rhys.
It’d be really weird. Going bare below leaves me feeling extra naked and vulnerable, which is what makes it illicit and thrilling.
But I’m here to work. I need to be one hundred percent focused.
In addition, I don’t do illicit and thrilling around Rhys.
He’s my boss, even if he did ask me to be his fake girlfriend earlier.
Don’t put too much stock in that. He probably wasn’t thinking straight after the scandal blew up.
Some of the investors are uptight and react badly to negative publicity.
Despite the gossip rags’ claims, I trust Rhys.
He might be grumpy and difficult to please, even vicious at times, but there are lines I can’t imagine him crossing.
And doing it with a high schooler? That would be one of those lines.
I call the front desk again. “Is there any way you can expedite laundry for me? I need it by tomorrow morning.”
“I’m very sorry, but it would be very difficult, Mrs. Kingswood,” comes a male voice.
Oh my God! “I’m not Mrs. Kingswood!”
“I apologize, Ms. Kingswood.”
I put my hand over the tip of my left eyebrow. The muscle there starts twitching under my fingers.
“Is there anything else I can assist you with?” the man continues pleasantly.
“So…it would be difficult for you to wash and dry my clothes before seven in the morning?”
“Yes. Very sorry.”
“Are you just saying it’s difficult because the answer is really just no?”
“No, no, no,” he says hurriedly. “I never said no. Just difficult.”
I bang my head against the pillow—the edge of the nightstand looks really sharp. “Okay. Is there a laundromat nearby?”
“Nothing that’s open at this hour and close to the hotel. It may be better if you wait to receive your garments tomorrow. We can try to bring them to you by noon.”
“I see.” I sigh. “It does indeed sound difficult,” I mutter.
“Ah, yes!” The clerk sounds pleased that I finally understand.
“Look, I have to work early in the morning. How about a store? Anything open?”
“The 7-Eleven around the corner is always open.”
Face, meet palm. “I don’t suppose they sell underwear?”
A short pause. “If you’re looking for a place to buy lingerie, you can try the Takashimaya or Mitsukoshi department store. They both open at ten a.m.”
“It’s okay. Thanks.” I hang up, then glare at the bathroom door. Why did Rhys have to add this impromptu destination without a warning? And just how much underwear did he pack? He hasn’t said a word about needing laundry service.
Huffing, I stare out at the glittering traffic lights and tall buildings, most of them lit with workers burning the midnight oil.
The traffic flows the wrong way because people here drive on the opposite side, just like London.
Tokyo’s been on my bucket list since forever, but I wanted to come on a nice, leisurely vacation, not with a grumpy workaholic who wants to mold me into his very own Mini-Me.
Since I have nothing better to do, I check my personal emails.
All sorts of sales notices from stores I bought from maybe once clog my inbox.
But there’s also a note from Silicone Dream asking me to designate an alternate address, since the delivery address is unavailable.
I bought my roommate a Year of Finishing First subscription because she needs it after that fiasco with her so-called fiancé.
But I don’t know Ailee’s new address…or even if she has a new address yet. So I give Silicone Dream my office address. I’ll hand-deliver the first box to her, then ask her to update the delivery info for the rest of the subscription.
The bathroom door opens. Rhys walks out wearing nothing but boxer shorts.
I freeze. Oh my God. What does he do to get a physique like that? When does he find the time? None of my boyfriends ever looked this amazing.
Warmth pools in my belly, and my mouth dries. His damp bangs hang loosely forward, making him look younger and much more touchable. The heat from the shower gives his mouth a nice, rosy flush, which makes me wonder if that’s how his lips look after a long, lingering kiss.
Stop thinking about kissing and Rhys in the same sentence!
This is just wrong. His torso is more muscular and solid than I imagined, with thick pecs and broad shoulders.
And the abs? A six-pack all the way. Those ridges look mouthwatering.
My gaze tracks the waterdrop gliding down from his chest all the way to the abs, until I suddenly realize letting my eyes wander south isn’t a good idea.
I jerk my eyes up. Thankfully, his glasses are slightly foggy.
He probably missed my ridiculous reaction to his godly body.
“Are you done in there?” I blurt out, doing my best to keep my eyes above his chin level.
“Yes.”
I grab my toiletries and pajamas and jump to my feet. “I’m going to shower now!”
The fog on his glasses clears, revealing amusement glimmering in the blue depths. “Thanks for the announcement. It’s all yours.”