Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
As my heart thumped out a crazy beat, I watched Oscar’s sexy ass, perfectly contained in his designer suit, weaving through the card tables until he disappeared from view completely.
I blinked a few times. Staring into my glass, I swirled the orange liquid around the ice cube, and it occurred to me that maybe I’d been slipped a roofie or something. This could all be just a figment of my crazy, overactive libido. Things like this did not happen to me. Not ever.
After glancing around and confirming that I wasn’t about to be evicted for being a fraud in the exclusive bar or for card counting, I reached for my clutch and fished out my phone.
I’d missed two texts from Roman.
Hey Red, you looked smoking tonight. Congrats on the hookup. He was hot
My jaw hit the floor. Hook up? So, Roman assumed I was going to have sex with Oscar. Even I didn’t know that yet. Couldn’t we have just gone for a drink and a chat?
Were Oscar’s intentions that obvious ?
Oh, God . Does this dress say I’m ready and willing to jump into bed with a random stranger?
I read Roman’s other text.
Txt me when you’re back at the hotel so I know you’re ok. And I wanna hear all about it tomorrow.
My mind spun on a stupid merry-go-round of reasons why I should and why I shouldn’t go to the mysterious Oscar. But as quickly as the doubts came, I rapidly found a reasonable answer. Soon, the scales began to tilt in favor of yes.
The only downside that I could fathom about going to room 710 was my safety. Oscar was a complete stranger. A stranger who owned sixty-nine hair salons, apparently, and who was staying in a room that cost about two and a half thousand euros per night.
I punched a text out to Zali.
Hey, met a guy. He’s really hot. I mean, totally off the charts
Her reply took six seconds.
I fucking told you. Tell me more
Think James Bond—distinguished, handsome, hot as hell
Fuck yeah. AND?
He invited me back to his room at Hotel De Paris
Is that a nice hotel?
One of the most expensive hotels in Europe
Well what the fuck are you waiting for?!?!
Hmmm, Zali clearly wasn’t concerned for my safety. I keyed in another text.
Okay, well, if you never see me again, I was kidnapped by Oscar LeRoche and am being held captive in room 710 at Hotel De Paris
Drama queen! Don’t be so negative. Go have fun
Maybe I was a drama queen. But I’d never been on a date with a stranger before. Hell, I’d never been on a date. William and I had never dated as such. We went from friends to girlfriend/boyfriend without any romance in between. I sent a reply.
Just covering my ass
Go uncover that ass. That’s an order
I tapped out one final text.
Okay, wish me luck. Love you. xxx
Luv ya too, babe. Now relax and enjoy. What’s the worst that can happen?’
I pounded my phone with a response.
Tied up as a SEX SLAVE for the rest of eternity
Sounds like fun
I chuckled .
Funny. Not funny
Oh come on. That was funny
I guess so
Daisy, listen to me. This could be one of the most incredible moments of your life. What have you got to lose? You wanted to explore as much as you could before you left Europe. No reason why that exploration can’t include the odd James Bond or two
I sighed.
Okay. You’re right. Thank you
You’re welcome. You can thank me with dick pics
I burst out laughing.
I’m going now
Zali finished with a series of eggplant emojis.
Smiling, I slipped my phone back into my clutch and as I readied myself to stand, I noticed I hadn’t finished my drink. I reached for it and clutching the crystal tumbler, I sipped at the potent liquid, contemplating the situation I’d stumbled into.
At least somebody knew where I was going. But it was still crazy. In the space of three days, my nice, controlled world had gone completely mad. If I’d had a year to explore this potential situation, I would never have pictured this.
I’d never have pictured a man like Oscar either.
The last two erotic interludes with Pierre and Luca had been spontaneous. They’d just happened. Oscar was different. This time, it was planned. I was making a conscious decision to go to a stranger’s room, and if I’d read all the signs correctly, I was about to have sex.
The implications of that were huge. Something in me had changed. Previously, I’d been happy to drift from month to month without thoughts of male company entering my mind. Now, it was like I’d become a porn queen.
Sex and men were suddenly my thing.
Like my internal clock was ticking down to a grand finale. Was the end of my visa driving this sense of urgency? Or was it more? Was it my age? Was twenty-nine the time in my life when my body said, ‘Fucking hell, sister, it’s time to party hard before your girly bits shrivel up and die?’ Or was it my body clock telling me to get some bootie action because one day I may settle down?
God no.
Settling down wasn’t even on my radar. In fact, come Christmas, my life was about to flip right on its head. I had no idea what my future held.
None of that mattered.
My immediate future was my sexy stranger, Mr. Oscar LeRoche.
I stood, placed my clutch beneath my elbow, and concentrated on exiting Bar des Privés without tripping in my heels. My nanna knickers had traveled so far up my crack I could barely breathe.
I made a beeline for a restroom. In the cubicle, I yanked my knickers to my ankles and sighed with relief. As I sat on the toilet, I did two things at once—admired the most luxurious restroom I’d ever had the pleasure of peeing in and wondered what the hell I was going to do about my ugly underwear.
Don’t wear any, sprang to mind.
My bra wasn’t optional. If I didn’t wear it, I’d be constantly wondering if my tits were poking out beneath the hem of my dress. My knickers, however, were another story. I’d never had a day in my life when I didn’t wear panties. While it would solve my dilemma, what kind of message would that send Oscar? That I was a girl who liked to experiment? Or would he think I was a slut?
Crap.
Oscar was a gentleman. Already out of my league. I didn’t need to lower my status any further.
God damn it. Keeping the ugly undies was necessary.
With that decision made, I tugged my knickers up to my belly button and pulled down my dress.
After washing my hands, I planted a smile on my face and strode from the restroom, ready to go to my sexy stranger.
With each heart-pounding step, my brain bounced from one scenario to the next.
From smoking-hot, mind-blowing sex with the hottest man I’d ever met to him being disgusted by my hideous body.
I froze. Crap. Crap. Crap. My knees trembled.
What the fuck am I doing? Indecision pinned me in place.
Stop it, Daisy! You’re going to see a gentleman who just happens to be staying at one of the most iconic hotels in Europe.
Nothing more.
Oh my god. His invite may’ve been purely innocent. He might have been inviting me just to show off his room. After all, I raved on a bit about the incredible architecture at the casino. Oscar was just being nice.
I wanted to slap myself. I’d totally taken his invite out of context.
I forced my feet to keep moving.
By the time I reached the lobby at Hotel De Paris , I’d convinced myself that the concept of Oscar and I actually getting naked was preposterous. He was all debonair and class. I grew up in trailer parks and had to buy a special dress to be accepted into the casino.
Oscar and I were from totally different worlds, and that was how it would stay.
It didn’t mean I shouldn’t accept his offer though. Right?
My jaw dropped as I crossed the threshold to the lobby of Hotel De Paris. Opulence surrounded me. Grandeur emanated from every angle. Marble colonnades, crystal chandeliers, rich colors of gold and ruby, and life-sized statues adorned the majestic space. I had no idea why I’d never been here before.
Within a minute, that question was answered.
I was very much out of place.
The people around me oozed money from their designer clothing, lavish jewelry, and handmade shoes to their expensive perfumes and refined accents. They’d only need a quick glance in my direction to know I didn’t belong.
Hang on. . . I’d been invited here by one of the sexiest men I’d ever met.
So yeah, this little chicky from Down Under did belong.
I thrust my shoulders back, held my head high, and prayed I didn’t face-plant as I strode across the marble expanse toward the elevators. The doors opened as I approached and a couple who, based on her shimmering emerald, green ball gown and his crisp, black tuxedo and matching green bow tie, looked to be dressed for the opera stepped out. I followed two ladies into the elevator, and when they glanced my way, their looks confirmed they were unimpressed with their company.
But when they pressed the button for the third floor, I gave them a fuck you look and made a show of waving my card over the panel and pressing the button for the penthouse. As we rode upward in silence we stared at our reflections in the mirrored doors. Their outfits probably cost in excess of three thousand euros each. Mine, on the other hand, cost less than three hundred.
Yet it was me who was heading up to the premium suites.
Yay. Notch one up for Daisy Chayne.
Once they’d stepped out, I waited until the door shut before I gave them the royal finger. I examined my makeup, wishing I’d bought lipstick today, but other than that, my makeover was still amazing. My freckles were completely concealed. I gently fiddled with my hair, ensuring the intricate braid was still impeccable. It was.
The elevator glided to a smooth stop and the doors swished open. My heart leaped to my throat as I stepped onto the plush carpet. It was so silent, I actually heard myself swallow as I walked the fifteen paces to room 710.
Stopping at his door, I sucked in a few deep breaths, closed my eyes in an attempt to calm my racing heart, and tugged my knickers back into position.
Recalling his smoky gray eyes, and how they’d devoured me with their intensity, I huffed out a breath, reached up, and pressed the bell.