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The mention of the dressing room sends a shiver down Victoria’s spine, and a wave of desire washes over her body once again. Harper blushes and buries herself in her papers again.
“I’m going to try to get some sleep,” Victoria announces, closing her laptop. “I want to be at a hundred percent when we get there.”
“Good idea,” Harper murmurs without looking at her. “I’ll do the same.”
Victoria closes her eyes, but sleep is a lost cause. Harper’s perfume and the searing memory of her moans keep her in a state of unbearable alertness.
Not long after, Los Angeles welcomes them with a beautiful blue sky and wonderful weather, despite the hellish traffic.
The car provided by the agency drops them off at the door of a luxury hotel in Beverly Hills after night has already fallen. They enter the fragrant lobby with the sole intention of taking a shower and going to bed. However, as soon as they approach the front desk, Victoria knows something else is going on.
The young man is typing like crazy while Harper looks like she wants to smash something in his face.
“Is something wrong?” Victoria asks, stepping up to the counter.
The young man sighs, visibly flustered.
“I’m so sorry, ladies. There’s been a mistake. I only have one confirmed suite under your names. The second room was mistakenly assigned to another guest, and the hotel is at one hundred percent occupancy due to the medical convention.”
Harper blinks, her exhaustion giving way to indignation.
“Are you telling me there’s only ONE room for the two of us?” she mutters, throwing her head back.
“Great, just like something out of a romance novel.”
“I’m afraid so,” the young man replies, swallowing hard. “But it’s our Executive Suite. It has a wonderful bed and a sleeper sofa in the private living room. Plus, the views are spectacular.”
“Great, this is the last thing I was hoping for after such a long flight.”
The receptionist looks like he’s about to cry, and Victoria feels a spark of amusement run through her.
“Come on, it’s not that big of a deal, Harper,” Victoria says, resting her elbow on the counter. “We’re in Beverly Hills, the suite is huge, and we’re two grown women. I think we can survive one night without killing each other, right?”
Harper turns toward her very slowly. Her brown eyes are like two sharp daggers.
“Excuse me?”
Victoria takes another step closer to her, lowering her voice so only Harper can hear her, relishing the sparkle in her eyes.
“I’m saying it’s no big deal. I’m absolutely certain I’m not going to eat you… unless you’re the one who doesn’t trust your own self-control.”
Harper’s cheeks flush instantly.
“I trust my self-control a thousand times more than yours, Victoria. From here to the moon.”
“Perfect. Case closed,” her ex-wife says with a mischievous smile.
She looks at the receptionist, who’s watching them as if he were watching an episode of a TV drama.
“We’ll take the suite, thank you. And please apply that discount for the inconvenience you’re about to cause us.”
“Of course!” the young man declares, breathing a sigh of relief as he programs the key cards. “Seventeenth floor. Elevator on the right. Enjoy your stay.”
The suite is a sight to behold. Spacious, incredibly elegant, lit with warm, indirect lighting, and featuring a huge floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the twinkling lights of Los Angeles. And, unfortunately for her fragile mental health, it’s the most romantic room Victoria has ever seen.
There’s an arrangement of fresh orchids on the entryway table, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket accompanied by two crystal glasses, and, presiding over the master bedroom, a colossal bed dressed in silk sheets that seem to scream “sin.”
Harper sets her suitcase down next to the living room sofa.
