Chapter 5 Maeve
Maeve
My heels click across the marble floor as I race out of the elevator and onto the fifth floor, smoothing down my hair to prevent my hands from balling into fists.
I could kill my father. He sent me on a wild goose chase to find some ridiculously specific mineral water for his special guest in the penthouse, and now I’m nearly late for my dinner with Kellin.
Serving as Declan’s errand girl has long since gotten old.
Frustration simmers low in my chest, but I shove the emotion down even deeper.
As much as I’d love to hit the spa or even the rooftop patio for a quick break, I don’t have time.
Not when my dream of buying Declan out of the Cypress is finally in sight.
The hallway that leads to Emerald & Oak curves around the west side of the hotel. To my left, an entire wall of windows showcases Santa Monica Beach and the pier, which glows in the twilight as the sun sinks beyond the water.
The pale gray carpet beneath my feet leads straight to the glass double doors, which are left open during restaurant hours. Beyond the glass, a modern steakhouse with warm oak flooring, tasteful floral wallpaper, and green velvet seating awaits.
Emerald & Oak is one of my favorite spots in the hotel. I designed the restaurant from the studs, and I’m proud that it’s become a hot spot for locals and tourists alike.
Once I step through the doors, I catch the eagle-eyed gaze of the hostess. Phoebe Palmer is a red-haired beauty with a dancer’s body, all lithe limbs and perfect balance topped with a messy bun. Her bright eyes log all the dining-room activity, and her smile dazzles even the grouchiest of guests.
She purses her lips as soon as I stop in front of the black host stand.
“What?” I run my palms over my simple navy dress and glance down. Nothing amiss, as far as I can tell. “Do I look all right?”
Phoebe picks up a menu from the podium. “You look stunning, as always. Your date just defies the laws of physics.”
The stomach flutters that vanished once Kellin retreated inside his suite kick up again. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll see.” With a widening smile, she leads me through the restaurant to the elevated, exclusive VIP section we reserve for high-profile guests and associates.
Eric Melanson inclines his blond head as we approach the green velvet rope that divides the VIPs from the rabble of the restaurant.
He’s one of my favorite members of hotel security.
Always quiet, always polite, with a maturity beyond his twenty-one years.
Tonight, he’s assigned to the restaurant, which generally involves escorting wasted businessmen back to their rooms and playing bouncer here at the rope.
Granted, we rarely have issues. I chose to post a security guard in the restaurant for my own peace of mind, and I’ve come to appreciate Eric’s calm, collected abilities. I’ll be gutted when he graduates and starts med school.
Phoebe and I climb the short set of steps after Eric unclips the rope for us.
My mouth goes dry, and for a few heartbeats, I forget to breathe.
Now I understand what Phoebe meant.
The flutters in my stomach grow stronger. With his gaze fixed on the window and a perfect, statuesque profile, Kellin may as well be a living, breathing GQ magazine spread.
This is how he dresses for business meetings?
Crisp, clean, freshly pressed lines. Another exquisitely tailored deep gray suit that fits his impressive body like a glove. The black button-down beneath his jacket is undone at the top, highlighting his Adam’s apple and the distinct divot between his razor-straight collarbones.
He appears relaxed, one hand resting over his knee. His other arm balances on the white tablecloth, an understated silver Rolex accentuating his wrist.
Keeping my feet moving forward requires a monumental effort. The sight of him buzzes warmth from the back of my neck down to my tailbone.
What’s that saying about devils in disguise? If temptation is the main defining feature of a devil, then there’s one sitting in my dining room.
Kellin seems deep in thought while I hover like an idiot and ogle him as if he’s on the menu.
After allowing myself another moment of appreciation—and to chastise myself for not wearing a sexier dress—I pack all that pesky attraction away and don my professional mask.
This is nothing more than a business dinner with a potential investor.
With my heart still thumping a little out of beat, I straighten my shoulders back and march straight up to him with a smile. “Hello.”
His eyes flare with interest before they meet mine. He rises to pull out my chair. “Evening, Maeve.”
My skin warms at the way my name rolls off his tongue. Low. Throaty. The charm is still there in all its glory.
As Kellin returns to his seat, he conducts a leisurely inspection of my dress. A heated gleam flashes in those mesmerizing eyes. Desire?
When I blink, the illusion has shattered. Kellin’s face is smooth and smiling.
Giving my head a tiny shake, I unfurl my napkin over my lap as a distraction. This is ridiculous.
I hate to admit it, but Lenora’s right. I’ve got to get out more.
Phoebe hands me a menu and leaves. We’re alone, the air between us humming.
I brush my fingers over my place setting. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”
“Not at all. I was enjoying the view.”
His attention remains on me when he speaks. My skin blazes beneath his gaze. I know my cheeks must be reddening, and I’m praying my makeup does a good job of hiding the flush.
I sense that, if I give this man an inch, he’ll claim an entire zip code, so I reinforce my spine with iron.
The second I start to relax, my decorum will fly out the window, and he’ll gain the advantage. While I might be rusty in the dating scene, business-wise, I’m competitive enough to want to best him.
He orders whiskey, I order red wine, and we both wave away the offer of an appetizer. With my internal organs so knotted up, I’ll be surprised if I manage more than a few bites of dinner.
I sip my wine to help soothe the worst of the jitters before setting the glass down to pace myself. I can’t risk getting tipsy tonight. “I hope the suite is comfortable. I know how frustrating it can be to fly into a new city only to check into a subpar room.”
“I’m just settling in, but I travel frequently enough to recognize quality when I see it.
” Once again, his brown eyes skim over me, and I’m no longer certain we’re still talking about the hotel.
The ice in Kellin’s glass chinks as he raises his drink to his lips, and I find myself entranced by that mouth and the movement of his throat as he swallows.
“I’m already positive that my stay here will be one of the best I’ve ever had. ”
He sets his glass back down, breaking the brief spell. I try to temper my delight over his compliment because he’s probably just flattering me.
That realization doesn’t stop the absurd little bloom of happiness in my chest.
I toy with my napkin to give my hands something to do. “I appreciate that. We all work hard to make this hotel a great experience for our guests.”
Kellin rests his arm on the table and leans a little closer to me.
“I’m sure you all do. But the one responsible for everything sits at the top of the pyramid.
Without your passion, none of this would be possible.
” His voice lowers half a decibel, and that seductive rasp derails my plan to pace my alcohol ingestion.
I gulp another mouthful of wine to fortify my nerves. “That’s why I’m so interested in you.”
My skin prickles as he edges closer and directs all that intensity at me.
Against my better judgement, I sip more wine.
Maybe tipsy Maeve wouldn’t be so bad. At least she’d be less on edge. Though possibly a little more likely to throw herself at her dinner partner.
When the food arrives, I pick at my salmon while Kellin cuts into his steak.
His attention distracts me from Henri’s delicious garlic-butter sauce. No man has ever regarded me the way Kellin does, like I’m a chocolate soufflé after a year of keto. Not even the men I dated.
Dark. Sensuous. Hungry. Those rich brown irises never leave my face as they study and analyze mine. Ravenous. At times, I wonder whether he’s a man at all and not some forest predator waiting for my weakness to show before striking and devouring me.
The thought should alarm me, yet most of the goosebumps pebbling my flesh don’t stem from fear. Maybe being devoured by this man would be worth all the negatives.
Or maybe, once he finished, there’d be nothing left.
I twist the napkin in my lap and reclaim my composure. He won’t get under my skin.
Over the course of the meal, I attempt to remain polite and reserved.
We discuss our work, our daily schedules, the effort required to run a business.
Keeping my distance for those topics proves easy enough, but I find my resolve faltering when Kellin shares a funny story about the dog he had growing up who stole and buried his socks.
Or when he discusses the time his friend wore extra tight pants to a nightclub and the fabric split over his ass during his first trip to the dance floor.
Overall, though, I think dinner’s going pretty well.
Until I realize I’ve already downed two glasses of wine and hardly touched any of my food.
Kellin’s still nursing his first glass of whiskey. The ice has melted, and half of the amber liquid still remains.
Dammit.
Kellin swirls his liquor and raises his glass. “Sounds like we’re both workaholics married to our jobs. Cheers to that.”
In the interest of politeness, I sip from my third glass of wine.
Damn, this is good stuff.
I set my glass down and find myself caught in his deep brown gaze once more. A deer in the headlights. Between his scrutiny and the alcohol, my thoughts race from my brain and out my mouth before I can stop them.
“It’s hard to imagine you as a workaholic.”