Sweeter than Honey (Fangs and Feuds #2)

Chapter 1 The Respite Hotel

Lily

The sun hangs low in the sky, its golden rays illuminating the enormous stone building before me.

The hotel takes up an entire city block, which is a big deal when you’re in the heart of downtown Silverlake City, where real estate is precious.

Most developers would gladly trade their first born child for this spot, if it ever went up for sale.

But despite the rarity of its square footage, the entrance to the hotel doesn’t open directly onto the street.

Instead, a thick wall encircles the block, with an arched entryway that opens onto a large courtyard.

A glittering sign declares that I am now entering the “Respite Hotel by Tudor Thornblade.”

I take a deep breath. Although I’ve worked at the Respite hotel for over a year and a half, I never stop feeling awestruck by its imposing, elegant exterior.

A sidewalk leads through the archway, curving around the paved driveway for limos and luxury cars to deposit their esteemed passengers at the hotel’s entrance.

As I walk up to the hotel, I admire its immaculately maintained courtyard.

The grass and shrubs are neatly trimmed, and the benches shine with veneer.

I’ve never seen anyone sit on them. They must be purely decorative, like the fountain that sits at its heart.

I have an urge to toss a penny in. For a moment, I wonder what I would wish for.

Then I catch another glimpse of the setting sun and hurry into the hotel.

A porter in a crimson uniform opens the door for me.

“Evening, Lily,” they say with a tilt of their cap.

“Good evening, Sid,” I reply with a smile as I enter the lobby.

The lobby is as grand as you would imagine, with towering ceilings, everything gleaming with marble and brass finishings.

Two concierge desks stretch out across the length of the lobby, one on each side.

An ornate chandelier glitters high above us.

There are a few families being assisted by bellhops who pile their suitcases and bags onto golden carts.

It’s not too busy this time of the evening.

Most guests will have been checked in by now.

The first concierge on the left gives me a grin.

“Forty-five minutes, Lily,” he calls, before picking up a ringing phone.

With alarm, I look up at the large vintage clock on the back wall. It’s later than I thought. I pick up my pace as I head toward the row of elevators at the back of the lobby. But I’m interrupted by a loud shriek.

“Lily!” Another concierge hurries over to me, her pale face flushed red. She wears a crisp white blouse and a dark pencil skirt. There’s a flyaway strand of light brown hair sticking out of her bun.

“Hi to you too, Chelsie…”

“Sorry, hi,” she says with an apologetic nod. “It’s just that we have a situation.”

I feel myself immediately shift into work mode.

“A guest, or a shareholder?” I ask.

“It’s Mrs. Harrigan,” Chelsie sighs. “She showed up twenty minutes ago, asking for her suite. I told her we can get her a similar room, but…”

“Her usual room was already assigned to another guest,” I finish for her.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’m sure we can smooth the situation over,” I say, looking around the lobby. “Where is she?”

Chelsie bites her lip. “Um…that’s the tricky part.”

“There’s been a huge mistake!” screeches Mrs. Harrigan. “This is my room!”

Mrs. Harrigan is in her mid-eighties, but her age doesn’t stop her from being a formidable sight. She wears kitten heels, a designer cardigan with an ivory broach, and sunglasses that take up half of her face.

She addresses the young couple who stand in the center of the suite.

They’ve clearly already made themselves comfortable here, wearing the hotel’s brightly bleached white robes and holding glasses of champagne.

It looks like they’re celebrating something, or they were celebrating something, before they were suddenly interrupted.

They wear matching expressions of shocked horror as Mrs. Harrigan rounds on them again.

“I’ve been staying in this suite since the sixties!” she declares. “If you do not leave immediately, you will be hearing from my lawyers!”

I quickly insert myself between Mrs. Harrigan and the robed couple. Mrs. Harrigan’s expression (or what I can see of it, underneath her large sunglasses) softens slightly when she sees me.

“Lily, thank goodness,” she says. “Tell these people that this is my room!”

I plaster a sweet smile on my face, and put on my best customer-service voice.

“Mrs. Harrigan, it’s so good to see you this evening. It appears that there’s been some confusion. Unfortunately, as there was no room booking prior to this evening, this suite was assigned to another guest…”

“I don’t care who this room was assigned to!” she snaps. “I’ve been staying here since-”

“Of course,” I reply, with a simpering note in my tone. “We’ll surely do our best to accommodate you. One moment, please, as I have a word with our other guests.”

I signal to Chelsie, and she hurries forward to distract Mrs. Harrigan. I turn around to face the couple.

They both look flustered, unsurprisingly. I would be too, if a screaming Mrs. Harrigan had rounded on me while I was enjoying a glass of champagne.

“My sincere apologies on behalf of the Respite hotel,” I tell them genuinely. “Mrs. Harrigan has been a guest for quite some time, and sometimes she forgets that this suite can be assigned to other guests in her absence.”

“We’ve had this reservation for months,” says one member of the couple, her voice a little shaky. “It’s our honeymoon.”

“Congratulations!” I respond, my brain working fast. “But surely, there’s been some mistake. If this is your honeymoon, you shouldn’t be in this suite.”

The other member of the couple furrows his brow. “Well, this is the deluxe king room, right? That was the one we booked, it was in our budget…”

I flash a bright smile and lower my head, as though I’m letting them in on a special secret.

“You must not have informed our concierge that this is your honeymoon. Allow me to upgrade your reservation. We have a gorgeous honeymoon suite. It’s twice the size of this one, with a hot tub, couples massage package, and a stunning lakeview.

At no additional charge, of course. As my personal treat, I’d like to include a six-course dinner for both of you at our world-class restaurant lounge. ”

Their faces both light up in surprise.

“That’s…that’s very generous,” they say, exchanging shocked but happy looks.

“It’s the least we can do,” I respond. “Consider it our congratulations, and our apology for this evening’s interruption. I’ll have the bellhop come to your room immediately to collect your luggage.”

“The honeymoon suite,” whispers the couple excitedly, grasping hands as I turn back to Mrs. Harrigan, who’s arms are crossed over her chest. Her thin eyebrows are raised high on her forehead.

“Mrs. Harrigan, our deepest apologies again,” I say, nodding my head to the older woman.

“I’ll make arrangements to have a quick turndown service, and your room will be prepared within the hour.

In the meantime, I can arrange a complimentary bottle of Rémy Martin cognac to be waiting for you at the spa, where one of our pedicurists would be more than happy to take care of you until your room is ready. ”

Mrs. Harrigan purses her lips. I can tell there’s a part of her that’s still in fight mode, that wants to find something lacking in my response so she can push further. I smile even wider, my dimples creasing my cheeks.

She uncrosses her arms with a sigh.

“Well, this evening has taken quite a toll on me, and it’s certainly the least you could do,” she concedes. “And Rémy Martin is my favourite brand of cognac…”

“It’s our pleasure,” I tell her.

Chelsie has already called a bellhop, and ordered the cognac on her phone. With a relieved sigh, we slip out of the room and onto an elevator, back down to the lobby of the hotel.

“Thank you so much, Lily!” Chelsie says. “You really saved me in there. You’re the only one who knows how to handle Mrs. Harrigan.”

“It’s no trouble,” I reply. “She’s a sucker for cognac, and she always gets a pedicure on her first night.”

We get back down to the lobby, and Chelsie takes her usual seat along the concierge desk.

“Who did the room assignments for today?” I ask.

“Um…” she logs into her computer and opens the booking program. “It was Ethan. He’s new, he might not have known to put it aside.”

“Send him an email, if you don’t mind,” I tell her. “And add a note to keep her room aside if there’s another deluxe king room available. She’s here often enough that it’s probably worth it.”

“Will do,” Chelsie responds. She lowers her voice. “I heard that she’s friends with Tudor Thornblade.”

“I heard the same thing.” Instinctively, my eyes drift to the large portrait of the hotel’s founder that hangs on the wall of the lobby.

His image is as imposing as the hotel itself, but far less welcoming.

He has a pale, almost drawn complexion, and supernatural violet eyes that seem to bore right into your soul.

“I think he’s kind of exciting,” Chelsie says, leaning forward over the desk. “Strange we haven’t seen much of him lately.”

I mumble something noncommittal in response.

I know exactly why he hasn’t been around for the past six months, but I’m not at liberty to tell Chelsie.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to expect a response.

She’s also gazing at the portrait of Tudor, with a dreamy expression on her face.

I notice something on the desk by her elbow and see that it’s a novel, a worn paperback, with a bright cover.

There’s an image of a curved mouth, with two sharp red fangs protruding from its lips.

In red font the words “Bitten by Desire” are slashed across the cover.

I suppress a grin.

“Oh! Speaking of,” says Chelsie, looking up at the clock above the elevators. “It’s only twenty-five minutes.”

“Shit, I should get downstairs,” I say. Then I look to the hotel entrance. “Is the donor here already?”

“I think that’s him,” Chelsie says, pointing to a man in a jean jacket who’s speaking to one of the other concierges. They point him in my direction.

“Hi, are you Lily Harper?” he says, holding out a hand.

“Yes, I’m the executive assistant for the hotel’s C-suite,” I respond, shaking his hand. “You’re the new donor?”

“That’s right,” he responds with a smile. “I got your email…it was very detailed.”

“Excellent, do you have any questions?”

“Only one: where do you need me?”

“The CEO’s office, it’s just this way,” I answer, leading him toward the line of elevators at the back of the lobby.

There are six elevators that take guests to their suites, and a service elevator that leads…well, to the other parts of the hotel that guests aren’t always privy to. But any elevator will take us to the office floor.

I press the elevator button and pull my phone out of my pocket, quickly navigating to my work email to pull up the forms the donor completed.

“Thank you for completing the forms,” I say, my fingers moving across the screen.

“No problem at all. Very thorough, huh?”

“We like to ensure that everything is covered,” I tell him, with a smile. Then I turn my eyes back down to my screen. “And I should double-check…what’s your blood type?”

“B negative,” he replies casually.

I look back up at him sharply as the elevator door chimes open.

“Sorry, did you say B negative?” I ask.

“That’s right,” he says, his eyebrow rising slightly at my expression. “Is that a problem?”

My stomach drops. I ignore the waiting elevator as my mind races quickly for the second time in my shift.

“It’s just, she’s very particular,” I sigh. “One moment, could you take a seat please?”

I gesture toward the comfortable, modern lounge chairs scattered throughout the center of the lobby. Without checking to see if he’s settled, I speed-walk back to Chelsie’s desk.

She’s typing quickly on her computer, a phone pressed up to one ear.

“Yes, we do have our premium double suite available that weekend,” she says, in her prim and professional customer service voice.

“Unfortunately the beds are in the same room, but we do have a family suite that might be more appropriate for your situation…Yes, there is daycare available, from eight a.m. to six p.m. No…no, we can’t take them overnight, you would need to supervise your children when they’re not at the daycare…

No, again, we can’t watch your children for you…

Yes, I hear you that your children are little demon terrors, and that you never get a minute to yourself, and I understand the situation, but unfortunately, at this time, our daycare only goes until six p.m. Yes, Eastern time. Great, I’ll book you in now…”

Finally, she finishes booking the room and she hangs up the call. Then she sees the worried expression on my face.

“What’s wrong?”

I’m unable to hide the frantic note in my voice. “What’s your blood type?”

“O negative,” she replies. Her eyes widen when she realizes what I’m asking.

“Only if you’re completely comfortable with it,” I say quickly, trying not to glance at the dog-earred romance novel on her desk. “And you would be fully compensated, of course, with an added bonus for the late notice.”

A shy but delighted smile begins to spread across her face. “I…I mean, if you need someone…”

“Fifteen minutes, Lily!” whispers Sid, as they push a luggage cart past us.

“It would be a huge favour,” I say. “I’ll find someone to cover the rest of your shift, and I’ll send you the forms immediately.”

“Ok!” She hurries excitedly around the desk. “It’s the CEO’s office, right?”

“You can come down with me,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you at the elevators.”

I find the other donor and tell him that his services won’t be needed tonight, although we’ll compensate him appropriately for the mix-up.

I offer him a complementary dinner at the lounge for his trouble, and he goes happily on his way.

The great thing about working at a luxury hotel is that almost anything can be smoothed over by some complementary food and drink.

Or, depending on your persuasion, by a blood donor of the right type.