Chapter 5 Maeve #2
He arches a brow. “No? Would you believe my files get so out of control that I bought a pullout couch for the office?” His eyes glint. “For overnight stays.”
I shiver. The alcohol fizzing through my head only accentuates Kellin’s attentiveness and inviting warmth. I want to reach out and brush his cheek, to trace my fingertips over the stubble on his jaw.
Instead, I grab my glass again. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of those.” Another gulp of wine. “Whether they were actually work-related is the question.”
Wait. Am I flirting?
Shit. Not a good idea. No more alcohol for me.
Kellin’s lips curl up. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were accusing me of wicked behavior.”
Electricity crackles through my body and settles between my thighs. The way he says my name should be a sin.
Sultry. Velvety. Dark.
Who knew a single syllable could sound so freaking sexy?
I swallow hard. Work, Maeve. Focus on work. “A pullout couch is hardly impressive. I keep my files in my bedroom, so at least I get to sleep in a normal bed after putting in long hours.”
I immediately regret my confession.
Why did I share that with him?
Talking to this potential business partner about the inner workings of my bedroom? Could I be any more unprofessional? For my next trick, maybe I can disclose where I store my vibrator.
I grimace. Definitely no more wine for me.
“You’re right.” Kellin’s eyes fall to the table between us. “I’m just one part of a huge operation, but you… You built this whole place all on your own. Very impressive.”
I respond with a tight-lipped smile.
I’m always waiting for the patronizing truth lurking in the wings when men compliment my business acumen. They’re not impressed by my accomplishments. They’re impressed that a woman managed to succeed in anything.
Normally, I wouldn’t let that sort of comment bother me.
But tonight, with the alcohol swirling through my blood and Kellin’s potential investment dangling just out of reach…
The words hit a little too close to home.
Maybe I can’t manage anything without my father.
My shoulders tighten at the thought, and my lips thin against my will. Before I can smooth them back down, Kellin frowns. Just the smallest twitch of his mouth, along with a thin furrow in his brow.
I won’t let my personal issues derail this. “Flattery won’t convince me to accept your proposition just like that.”
Kellin’s eyes narrow, and his mouth curves into a dangerous, sensual smile that sets fire to my nerve endings.
“I didn’t realize I’d propositioned you yet.” His soft tone sizzles down my spine and heats my cheeks.
No amount of makeup will hide this much warmth. “You know perfectly well that I meant your business proposal—”
Before I can draw that firm line, a young server dressed in a crisp black uniform hurries toward the table with wide hazel eyes.
“Charlie?” I sit up, wine forgotten. “What’s wrong?”
Charlie fidgets with the hem of his waist apron as he catches his breath. “Can you please come to the bar?” His thin face pinches. “There’s a customer refusing to leave.”
As soon as he finishes his request, shattering glass echoes throughout the restaurant.
My heart sinks. This isn’t the good impression I wanted to create for Kellin.
I rise, tossing my napkin in my chair. “Please excuse me.”
I don’t wait for Kellin to answer. Power walking, I follow Charlie toward the bar. I don’t see Eric near the rope. Hopefully he’s already at the bar.
Taking a deep breath, I scan the restaurant for the problem customer. “What exactly is going on?”
Charlie chews on his lip while fidgeting with his apron again. “This guy is raving about his bill. He’s totally wasted.”
This couldn’t have happened on a worse night. “Is he a hotel guest?”
He shrugs. “Phoebe didn’t think so, but she wasn’t sure. He could have checked in today.”
I swallow a curse. “Where’s Segun? He should already be here.” My night manager is best-suited for handling incidents like this.
“No one’s seen him—”
“Fuck you!” A ragged voice bellows over the din of chatting diners. More glass shatters. Patrons begin twisting in their chairs and craning their necks toward the bar.
Just what I need. A spectacle.
After a few more steps, I spot a well-dressed, fortysomething man at the bar.
He’s swaying back and forth as he points at Ricky, my seasoned bartender. The man’s salt-and-pepper hair is disheveled, his face reddened from alcohol or anger. Both, by the state of him.
His rambling voice slurs. “I decide when I’ve had enough!”
Ricky’s got both hands braced against the bar, stress creasing his square forehead beneath his sandy hair. His green vest is damp at the front—did this guy toss his drink on him?—and his tanned knuckles are white against the bar top.
When he catches sight of me, his shoulders visibly relax. I’m too old for this, his expression says.
He can’t be a day over fifty. No need to be dramatic.
I nod at the drunk. “Ricky, please call this gentleman a cab.”
“Right away, boss.” He disappears into the back.
Eric is not here. So now it’s me, barely-an-adult-Charlie, and our audience of thirty-plus diners against a single blitzed idiot.
Without a bartender to harass, the belligerent man zeroes in on me. Ignoring the rest of his surroundings, he beelines straight for me and sticks his finger in my face.
“You.” He stumbles over nothing, smacking into his bar stool. “Get me a drink.”
Part of me wants to back away. I’m not small, but I’m also not as tall as this man, or nearly as strong. And I can’t depend on Charlie, that’s for damn sure.
But I hold my ground. I’m entirely too familiar with men who like to intimidate people weaker than them, and that type loves provoking a response. I’d rather knock myself out than show this guy the slightest hint of submission or fear.
He’s not the first belligerent man I’ve dealt with, and he won’t be the last.
I keep my eyes on the drunk while talking out of the side of my mouth. “Charlie, find Eric and call for backup.” I don’t know where the hell Eric’s gone—he should’ve already kicked this idiot out already—but he can get his ass here now.
As soon as Charlie’s left, I square my shoulders in the face of my newest problem.
I will handle this.
My head spins a little from the wine, but I do my best to imitate my father’s sternest expression. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”
“I don’t think so.” He glares at me. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m the manager of this hotel, and you’re disturbing our other guests—”
“You’re nothing but a dumb little bitch!” His voice bounds through the restaurant as he grabs a glass from the bar and hurls it at my feet.
The silence that follows the outburst is broken only by the soft instrumental jazz playing through the speakers above the bar.
One drunken insult can’t hurt my feelings. But in front of all these people? In front of Kellin? Even from across the restaurant, I’m sure he heard that shout.
I glance away from the drunk for the first time and spot Kellin rounding the tables.
Icy picks of frustration dig into my chest.
No. He can’t see this.
What if Kellin doesn’t want to invest in a manager who’s incapable of dealing with a little problem? Doesn’t want to invest in a hotel that attracts assholes?
That attracts men—like my father and his goons—who disturb the peace I’ve worked so carefully to cultivate?
My hands clench at my sides, sharp nails driving into my palms. The wine in my stomach roils, making me nauseous.
I’m so close to achieving everything I want, but my escape from my father’s world dangles just out of reach, on a string held by the man currently watching my utter failure to contain an issue.
The plastered asshole is entirely ignorant of my turmoil. He’s still waving that stupid finger. The handful of people who were at the bar have abandoned their seats in favor of huddling together near the host stand as Phoebe attempts to calm them.
The drunk staggers toward me again. For someone so unsteady on his feet, he can, surprisingly, still walk in a straight line. “And I don’t care—”
I invade his personal space, closing the remaining distance between us. “Enough. One more word out of you, and you’re leaving here in handcuffs. Is that what you want?”
His gaze drifts from my face and wanders over my shoulder. Before I can pivot to see what he’s looking at, he lunges.
With more speed than I’d expect from someone so wasted, he grabs me with his meaty hand. I try to free myself, wincing when his fingers lock around my arm with bruising force. The combination of shock and pain startles a whimper from me.
The next instant, the man releases me with a yelp, his nails scraping my skin as he’s hauled backward.
Finally. Security sure took their sweet time, but at least they—
I peer behind the wasted man to find Kellin.
The sharp, icy grin on his face is nothing like the one he wore at the dinner table.
“Where I come from, men who put their hands on women like that without consent get their fingers broken.” I shiver at Kellin’s deceptively calm tone.
Dark.
Dangerous.
A promise, not a threat.
The drunk’s face blanches, and he attempts to liberate himself. “Hey, get offa me—”
Like he does this every day, Kellin wrenches the man’s arm behind his back, earning a hiss of pain. “If you ever come back here, you’ll regret it. Understand?”
Before I can blink, Kellin frog-marches him toward the exit. They pass a wide-eyed Phoebe at the host stand. Her hand flutters around her throat as she watches them go by.
The adrenaline pulsing through me fades all at once, and I slump, gripping a barstool to keep myself upright.
Kellin—the financial wiz, the model lookalike, the man who was giving me bedroom eyes over wine and steak—just physically removed a man from my restaurant.
I glimpse down at the red scratches blooming on my arm, and a chill ghosts my skin.
Kellin isn’t the one who left these marks, but still…
I snap out of my thoughts to the clamor of slow applause picking up from around the room.
Shaking off the strange reality of Kellin being such a badass, I address the guests, pinning a smile on my face.
“I’m so sorry for that unpleasant surprise.
Please, everyone return to your dinners.
Your meals are on the house tonight.” I really can’t afford to comp so many tables, but I will not allow the hotel’s reputation to suffer because of one bombed asshole.
I head over to Phoebe, helping her direct loitering guests back to the bar with the promise of complimentary booze.
When I’m alone with her, I sigh. “Let Segun know what happened as soon as you see him. I’ll make sure that man is banned from the property, so he shouldn’t be a problem again.”
“Sure thing.” Her eyes flick over me, then shift to the glass doors where Kellin and the drunk disappeared. “That was quite the scene, wasn’t it?” She fans herself. “Whew. Who knew your date was such a beast?”
“He’s not my date.” My stomach clenches as Kellin rounds the corner from the elevators. He heads for the restaurant while adjusting his suit jacket over his broad shoulders.
I’ve been around stupid male bravado and posturing my entire life. Being the only woman in the house after my mom died, I got used to the testosterone. The pissing contests. The bluster for bluster’s sake.
I’ve always hated the ridiculous arrogance of men, as well as the violence.
But I have to admit, at least to myself, that the way Kellin came to my defense and took complete control without batting an eye?
That was hot.
The little ember that planted itself in my chest after we met earlier ignites to a full flame, warming me from the inside out as Kellin stops in front of me.
“Sorry about that. Are you all right?” He captures my hand and tugs it closer while inspecting my arm. When he notes the thin red welts rising on my skin, his eyes darken, a shadow of anger flashing across his face.
The expression, though fleeting, prickles the back of my neck.
Subtly, I try to reclaim my arm. “I’m fine. It’s just a few scratches.”
His thumb brushes the pulse in my wrist with a gentleness that belies the seething tension in his body.
Sparks sizzle from the contact, up my arm, through my chest, around that flame, and straight to my stomach, where they explode into a roaring wildfire that sweeps through my blood.
I pull away, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my dress. If I don’t keep my hands busy, I’ll reach for him.
He motions toward the table. “Shall we finish our dinner?”
“Of course. Thank you for stepping in there.” I fix my gaze on a spot in the vicinity of his nose. “But this is my hotel, and that disturbance was mine to take care of. I could have handled that situation myself.”
I hate the high, breathless pitch of my voice. I sound like some damsel in distress.
And loathe as I am to admit it…I kind of enjoyed having a hero come to my rescue for once.
“I have no doubt you could have.” Kellin’s gaze burns into my face until I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “But you don’t have to do anything alone, Maeve. Not while I’m here.”
Though intended as reassurance, his promise inspires equal measures of hope and fear.