The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers Book 2), page 4
She hesitated.
“Please. Or else I’ll feel terrible.”
Laila looked as if she wanted to argue with him, but he just shook his head. When it came to stubbornness, he would always win.
“All right. I’ll pack an overnight bag. It was nice to meet you,” she said, flicking Ransom a shy glance from under her lashes before ducking inside.
Mason blinked. He had forgotten Ransom was there, which was why the other merc wore a smug, self-satisfied expression.
“What?” Mason grumbled when his friend kept quiet.
“You do like her.”
Mason waved him back inside his apartment. “She’s a nice kid who is paying her way through school. If Laila fails her tests, she can’t afford to retake the classes.”
“Uh-huh.” Ransom’s smirk only deepened.
Deciding to ignore him, Mason grabbed his car keys off the hook in the kitchen. But Ransom followed him.
“This explains so much. Like why you haven’t been trying to hit that,” he said, gesturing significantly to the crowd in the living room.
Mason glanced up. Angie, Dusty’s sister, was here now, and she was on the dance floor. Her heavily kohled-eyes met his for a moment. Movements slowing, she started a rhythmic surge that highlighted the exaggerated curve of her hips. Her red hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place.
“Angie?” he muttered in a low voice. “Why would I try to get with Angie?”
“You know she likes you.”
Mason grunted noncommittally. She had flirted with him, but Angie used to ‘like’ Collins. And before that, it was Ansel, the team leader of Dusty’s Auric team. She was a merc groupie, who went from man to man in the organization—with her brother’s blessing. Mason had always thought that was kind of gross, but if one of the guys said something to him, Dusty would shrug and say Angie was her own woman who could do what she wanted.
The latter, Mason could understand. He wasn’t a hypocrite. Angie could run through all the Auric teams if that were what she wanted, but Mason had too much small-town Tennessee in him to approve of Dusty’s laissez-faire attitude. Mason didn’t have a sister, but he had female cousins he had been close to growing up, and he knew he wouldn’t be that blasé.
Ransom was still talking. “So, if you don’t come back, I can lock up.”
“Lock up?” Mason echoed.
Ransom gestured around them. “Leave me your spare set.”
The dots connected. “You don’t need my keys. I’m coming right back.”
“Sure, you are, buddy. Sure you are.” With a flick of his fingers, Ransom dismissed him.
Chapter Six
Laila tugged on Mason’s sleeve. “This has to be some mistake,” she said in a hushed tone.
It was instinct as if she were in a Cathedral instead of the lobby of a hotel. But this was like no hotel she’d ever been in.
The outside of the building was fairly nondescript. Mason had driven them in his red Corvette a mere ten minutes before stopping at a building with a sleek granite facade. At first, she’d thought they’d arrived at a bank, but Mason didn’t exit to take out cash. Instead, he tossed his keys to a valet who had materialized out of thin air. Then he’d opened her door and ushered her inside.
Laila nearly tripped on the marble tile because she was too busy gawking to watch her step. The interior was the most opulent space she’d ever been in.
Her first impression was of sparking golden-brown marble and elegant brass. A Chevron design in the art-deco style was embedded into each pillar at the edge of the wide lobby. Lush green plants dotted the room.
With subtle pressure on her lower back, Mason guided her to a wooden reception counter where a male employee in a navy suit waited.
“I never expected you to put me up in a place like this,” she whispered as Mason handed his credit card to the man.
“That’s why I’m enjoying this so much.” Mason grinned, transforming his face from handsome to ungodly beautiful. It was like a blast of sunlight appearing from behind a dark cloud. The contrast to his typical stoic expression was like night and day. “And this place is close to campus. You can walk to your test tomorrow.”
Lord have mercy. Laila gripped the polished counter, needing the support after being blindsided by his smile. She glanced at the man checking her in, but the hotel employee didn’t react to the display of absolute masculine perfection.
“Where are we again?”
“The Caislean.”
Laila had never heard of the hotel, but their locations were displayed on the wall behind the counter in raised brass lettering. Boston, Miami, Las Vegas, New York, Milan, Sydney… She stopped reading after Paris.
“It’s too expensive,” she protested. Laila had no idea what this place cost, but she could tell from the heavy stationary behind the desk and the shine of the counter that it was too much.
“Don’t worry about it.” Turning to the man, Mason leaned toward him. “She didn’t get a chance to eat dinner. Will you please send up something up? Whatever the chef’s specialty is. Oh, and she’s a baker, so please add something special for dessert.”
“What are you doing?” Laila squeaked, grabbing his arm. “Dinner must be more than my entire paycheck.”
Another quirk of his lip. “I said, don’t worry about it.”
“Would you prefer a king-sized bed for two or a double room?” the attendant asked with a polite smile.
“She only needs one bed. I won’t be joining. I also have this,” he said, handing over a second card.
The attendant’s demeanor changed subtly. His expression had been welcoming and polite, but when he took the card, it became downright deferential. “Ah. Thank you, Mr. Lang. Why don’t you give me a minute? Let me see if I can upgrade you to a suite.”
He tapped on the keyboard, then looked up with a smile. “Good news. We’ve had a cancellation, so there is one available.”
“Make sure to bill all expenses to that credit card,” Mason added.
“Wait.” Laila tugged him away from the desk. She held up the small paper bag she’d packed in a rush. “At least cancel diner. I brought leftovers.”
“Save them for later,” he told her with a laugh. “When do your midterms end?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“Stay here until Friday then,” he said. “When you’re done with midterms, you can come back here to unwind a bit. Then text me. I’ll pick you up.”
Laila’s eyes darted over the lobby. It was like being in her personal version of Aladdin’s treasure cave. It was tempting, but she couldn’t let him do this. “It’s not too late to find another hotel. This place might cost your firstborn. And what was that card? Not the credit card. The other one.”
Mason chuckled. She warmed, pleased she could make him laugh. He didn’t do that a lot.
“The price won’t be that bad, because that card was a special VIP identification.”
Laila’s drew her head back. “You stay here often enough to have a VIP card?”
“No. But my buddy knows the owners, and they hand out these member cards to their friends. You can put other people on them. The room isn’t free, but it’s heavily discounted and gives you access to many perks. I rarely get the chance to use it. Most of the places I work don’t have fancy hotels—most don’t have hotels period. You should make the most of it.”
“Oh…” Laila didn’t know what to say to that. “I guess I should then.”
“Good.”
Staring up into his perfect face, Laila racked her brain for something brilliant to say. But the man behind the desk signaled them before she could think of anything, indicating the room was ready.
Mason walked her to the elevators. “Do you have everything you need? You didn’t forget any of your books, did you?” he asked, gesturing to her overnight bag.
“Books?” she echoed stupidly.
“To study for your midterms,” he prompted.
“Oh.” Blushing, she shook her head, lifting her bag. “I have them. Thank you.”
Most of her midterm materials were on her computer in any case.
“Well, if you think of anything later, give me a call. I can run you back to your place to get it.”
“That’s kind of you. This entire thing is too generous,” she said, gesturing to their surroundings.
He waved away her thanks. “Don’t mention it. And sorry the party got in the way of your studies. It won’t happen again.”
“Well, you are setting a bad precedent,” she joked weakly. “You can’t rent me a luxury hotel suite every time you have a gathering.”
“All the more reason to keep a lid on things in the future, but I don’t mind treating you. You deserve to be pampered every once in a while.”
His intense blue eyes bored into hers for a beat. The elevator doors opened, and he backed away. Feeling weak-kneed, she stepped inside the cabin.
Walking backward, he raised his hand. “Study hard,” he called cheerfully.
Laila craned her neck to watch him leave.
“Oomph,” she groaned as the elevator doors closed on her.
Flushing in chagrin, she pulled her head inside and pressed the button for her floor.
Laila was still flushed when she reached her floor, but the Caislean hotel suite did a lot to distract her from her embarrassment.
The door opened with a short hallway on the left, which dead-ended with a three-way mirror next to a built-in coat closet beside a sink with smaller mirrors fixed to the wall. Glancing into them confirmed they magnified her face. It was the ultimate set up to get ready for a night on the town, conveniently located next to the door and closet for last-minute touch-ups.
The rest of the suite was just as well designed. She flipped the light switch to the main room, charmed by the sight of a small sitting room with a comfy-looking couch and a loveseat with a sizable flat-screen facing them. Behind it, two steps separated a set of double doors. They stood open, revealing an impossibly wide bed covered by a sky-blue coverlet. It was angled so the occupants could watch the television while lying down.
Laila stroked the couch upholstery, marveling at its softness. In the bedroom, she found an ensuite bathroom. The toilet was in a separate room nearest the door. A walk-in shower stall stood on the other side of a huge oval tub.
Squealing, Laila climbed inside the tub fully clothed. Nestled in the far corner was an entire line of bath products stamped with the hotel’s name and logo, including bath salts and a full-sized bottle of bubble bath.
In contrast, her apartment had a small shower stall right next to the toilet. It was all one room, tiled up to the door. A drain in the middle was supposed to make sure the room didn’t flood, but she always had to place towels against the door just in case. Laila couldn’t remember the last time she’d had access to a tub—probably since her stepmother had to sell their house.
Laila was about to fling off her clothes when a knock at the door announced the arrival of dinner.
“What is this?” she asked when the waitress delivering her tray whipped off the silver dish cover.
“Seared duck magret with polenta and fresh vegetables—today’s house special as requested. We also have a slice of our signature pavlova cake. It’s a personal favorite among the staff. I hope you enjoy it. Please call the concierge if there’s anything you need.”
The woman pointed out the hotel directory, encouraging Laila to look at the other amenities before leaving. Laila had her phone in her hand before the door closed behind her. Rosamie arrived less than twenty minutes later, just enough time for Laila to devour the main course and half the dessert.
Her friend zipped back and forth like a bumblebee on a sugar high, checking every nook and cranny of the suite down to the plush carpet fibers.
“Oh my God, this couch is amazing. I would give up my bed for this. I could live on this thing,” she said, getting on her hands and knees to rub her cheek against the fabric. Using her feet, she pushed herself across the cushions, stroking them with her entire body.
“You better not be wearing foundation, Rosamie,” Laila scolded, climbing on the couch next to her and handing her the cake plate. “Here, I saved you half.”
Rosamie sat up in a hurry, checking each cushion to make sure it wasn’t marked. “They’re fine. I’m only wearing eyeliner, and it’s the expensive smudge-proof kind.” She got up on her knees, making a beeline for the plate. “Gimme!”
Handing over the plate, Laila giggled as Rosamie gobbled up the rest of the pavlova, moaning in ecstasy. “I’m only eating this because you can bake this with your eyes closed,” she said between bites. “You can make this, right? I don’t think I can go back to a world where I can’t get this on the regular.”
“I’m pretty sure I can make it.” Laila laughed. “It’s a basic meringue shell with whipped cream and fruit.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Rosamie said, her eyes rolling back into her head. “There is nothing basic about this. This is better than sex.”
“I will have to take your word.” Laila giggled. “Did you see the size of the tub?”
“Yes!” Rosamie bounced up and down on the plush cushion. “You’ll be able to do laps in it.”
“Almost,” Laila agreed. “Hey, do you want to stay the night? It’ll be like a luxury sleepover.”
Rosamie groaned. “I would, but I promised my mom I’d help get my brothers to school in the morning. Mom has her annual check-up tomorrow—mammogram, pap smear—the whole nine yards. And Dougie and Jerico never get up with their alarm. I’ll have to drag them out of bed by their hair.”
Laila shook her head. Rosamie’s brothers were a handful, but she knew her friend loved them to bits despite the colorful epithets she used to describe them. “Well, then come back tomorrow night. There’s a heated pool in the basement, and I know you love to swim.”
Rosamie’s jaw dropped. “Mr. Marvelous is paying for two nights?”
“Yes—until midterms are over. But he doesn’t pay full price. He’s got some sort of hookup that gets him a big discount.”
The phone on the coffee table rang. She picked up the receiver, then had a short conversation with the concierge. “I’ll let you know,” she said, hanging up.
“Let me guess. There’s a problem with Mr. Marvelous’ credit card,” Rosamie said with a wry twist of her lips.
“No.” Laila wanted to laugh at her friend’s pessimism. “They wanted me to know that Mr. Lang, Mason, has asked them to schedule a massage for me. I guess he’s still worried about my back.”
Rosamie swallowed the last bite of Pavlova before licking the spoon. “Well, that shows me what’s what.”
Confused, Laila frowned. “What?”
Her friend pointed the spoon at her. “Mr. Marvelous totally wants to fuck you.”
Laila cringed. “He does not.”
Rosamie smirked. “Of course he does. A guy wouldn’t go to all this trouble for a neighbor out of the goodness of his heart.”
“He does have a good heart,” Laila protested. “Not to mention that with me out of the way, he and his friends can be as loud as they want.”
With as many women as they want… Laila pushed the image of the tall, attractive model-type woman airily waving her cigarette at Mason out of her head.
“That, and he must still feel bad about tackling me,” she added with a shrug. Her happy buzz dampening, she rose to wash her hands in the bathroom. She came back, kicking off her shoes and taking a running leap onto the bed.
She hit with a soft crash, the mattress engulfing and supporting her at the same time. It was perfect. “Oh, yassss queen.” She rolled over. “Get your bootie over here. You have to feel this.”
Rosamie stood, copying her running leap to the bed. She landed with a crash that barely jostled the thick mattress.
“Holy crap! We have to steal it,” Rosamie said, flopping next to her. “Seriously, do you think they would notice if we carried a humongous mattress out to my car just before check out?”
“I’m afraid they might, so we better make the most of it.” Laila stretched out her arms and legs, pushing them up and down. “Look, I can make a mattress angel and not even come close to touching you.”
Chuckling, Rosamie did the same, twisting and reaching out to brush Laila with her fingertips. “I have to stretch way over to reach your fingers. Is this a California king? Cause it seems bigger than that.”
“I don’t know, but it’s the widest bed I’ve ever seen.” Laila could roll over more than half-a-dozen times without falling off.
Rosamie sat up and grabbed a pillow, pointing it at the headboard, the couches, and a lamp in turn. “I love you, I love you, and I especially love you,” she said.
“Don’t forget about this,” Laila said, getting up on her knees to touch the art-deco design on the wall above the headboard. The pattern was in shining tiles, similar in style to the one in the lobby but different in execution.
“The amenities folder over there says each room has a unique design. It gives this place that perfect personal touch.”
“That is pretty cool.” Rosamie wasn’t even looking at the design. Her eyes were closed as she wiggled on the dense mattress. Eventually, she raised her phone to check the time. She groaned. “I better get going.”
“But you’ll come back tomorrow?” Laila asked hopefully.
“Try to stop me!” Rosamie laughed, heading for the door. Laila followed her, picking up the cake plate and setting it on the tray.
Her friend paused at the threshold. “Well, I’ll come back if you’re alone. However, if Mr. Marvelous decides to drop by to help you test out that mattress, be sure to let me know so I can make other plans.”
The velveteen pillow Laila threw hit the closing door. Once Rosamie was gone, Laila hurried to make sure the pillow wasn’t damaged. “There you go,” she said, laying it gently on the couch as if it were a baby bird.
Spinning around, she twirled like a ballerina before hurrying to the bathroom, undressing as she went. Once there, she uncapped the bubble bath and took a deep sniff. Unused to the perfume, she couldn’t identify the scent, but it was delicious. Impulsively, she grabbed the bath salts as well, determined to make the most of her time with the glorious tub.
