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“Well, right this way, miss.” He offers his arm and I take it with a laugh.
The whole house is actually six townhouses in one, three on the front block and three on the back. There are ten bedrooms and fifteen bathrooms plus a gym, an indoor pool, a large entertainment room, a small theater, and more. Ethan almost seems embarrassed as he walks me through the place, like the extravagance is too much.
Truthfully, it almost is too much. There’s more money in this house than I’ll ever see in a lifetime, or at least that was the case before I landed this job. I know people that live on less per year than he has invested in end tables.
It’s mind-boggling. The comfort, the wealth, the power, I just can barely understand it all. I’m exhausted and it’s late at night, probably around two in the morning, and I feel like I’m running on fumes.
We finish back up in the main living room. “So, what do you think?” he asks.
“It’s... big,” I say.
He laughs. “I know. It’s absurd.”
“Do you use it all?”
“Hardly,” he admits. “I’m barely even here to be honest. I have guests staying here all the time and the place is mostly for them.”
“So you live in a hotel.”
He laughs, pouring himself a drink. “Pretty much.” He gestures at the bottle of whisky. “Want one?”
“Sure,” I say, although I don’t like whisky. He pours and hands me the glass. I accept it and sip it.
He laughs at the face I make. “You don’t have to drink that if you don’t want it,” he says.
“I’m sorry. I’m not much of a whisky drinker.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He takes the glass from me and pours it into his, making it a double.
“I guess I’m not sure how to act in this situation.”
“I know. Strange, right?” He shrugs, sipping his whisky. “Just be yourself. What do you like to drink, anyway?”
“Wine,” I say. “Anything white.”
“Perfect. I have two thousand bottles.”
“Seriously?”
He laughs. “Seriously. Like I said, it’s a hotel.” He walks to the refrigerator, opens a small drawer toward the bottom, and pulls out a white. He opens the bottle, pours me a drink, and hands me the glass.
“Cheers,” he says. He clinks and sip. I look around the room, wondering how the hell I found myself in this situation.
I don’t belong here. Jenkins must have seen through me the second I walked through that door. He knows that I’m trash, that I don’t belong in a place like this with a man like Ethan.
Worse, maybe Jenkins knows what I am. That I’m a hooker for Ethan. That he bought and paid for me and now I’m contractually obligated to do whatever Ethan wants.
Not that I really mind, to be truthful. I would have gone home with Ethan for free if he wanted me. But with the money involved, things are different. I know I need to please him, but I’m not sure how to go about doing that.
“Come on,” he says finally. “Let’s go to your room. It’ll be ready by now.”
I reach down and grab my bag but he waves me off. “Jenkins will bring that up. Come on.”
I frown, leaving the bag, and follow him. We go back upstairs, but instead of moving down the guest wing like last time, he leads me to the right and down a short hallway.
“So, this is my private wing,” he says. “The door at the far end is my room. And this is yours.” He stops in front of a door with the number two on the front.
“The second room,” I say, smiling. “Very clever.”
He shrugs, grinning. “Easier this way.” He opens the door and we step into the room.
It’s gorgeous. There’s a bathroom on the left as we walk inside. In the center of the room is a large four-poster bed. There’s a small fireplace with a fire burning in it, a television with a couch in front of it, a small table, and another room toward the back.
“Bed, bathroom, living room, and there’s an exercise room off the back,” he says. “Balcony too, if you want to use it.”
“You really do live in a hotel,” I say, laughing. “But the nicest hotel I’ve ever seen.”
He grins. “Glad you like it. You’ll be in here for your stay.” He walks over to the dresser and picks up a phone. “Use this to call down to the kitchen. There’s someone on staff twenty-four seven, so if you’re ever hungry, just call and ask. You can also request laundry service or cleaning if you want. Really, call and ask for whatever and Jenkins will make it happen.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I bet he’ll conveniently forget my requests.”
