Page 6 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

I just move.

And it actually feels kind of good.

Until I catch myself in the mirror again.

I snort.

“Nice try, Scarlett.”

I’ll just have to accept that no man is ever going to look at all this and think it’s sexy.

Chapter 3

Morgan

By the time I reach the executive floor, I’ve taken off my jacket and loosened my tie.

The elevator doors open to silence. No board members. No Conrad. No Donovan telling me to let shit go.

Perfect.

I swipe the key over the lock, push open the door and step inside.

Finally.

I toss my jacket over the back of a chair and toe off my shoes as I walk farther into the suite. My socks follow, then my tie, which I pull free and drop on top of the jacket.

Ten minutes.

That’s all I need.

Ten minutes under a shower and maybe I’ll stop fantasizing about strangling my younger brother with the tie I just took off.

I start unbuttoning my shirt as I cross the living room. By the time I reach the open bedroom doorway, I’ve shrugged it off and tossed it onto the bed.

Then I hear it.

Water.

I stop.

Not a faucet. A shower.

For a second I just stand there, listening.

Do I have the right room?

Maybe housekeeping is still in here. Or someone cleaned the shower and forgot to shut it off. It wouldn’t be the first stupid mistake I’ve seen at a hotel, though I’d prefer not to find one at a hotel with my name on it.

“Hello?” I call.

Nothing.

Just the steady rush of water from the bathroom.

I consider going back downstairs and finding the kid who handed me the key.

Then again, if housekeeping left a shower running in an executive suite, I want to see it for myself.