Beautiful Secret (Beautiful Bastard #4) (7 page)

I stared at my screen.

I had Niall Stella’s phone number.

Dare I use it? Since I’d most certainly slept through my food being delivered, I could text him and see if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. But that didn’t really fall under the category of
problematic
, no matter how hungry I was. And if he hadn’t told his assistant to ask me about dinner plans, then I had to assume that was because he’d make his and I’d make mine.

Only then did I realize I really
had
begun to imagine the next four weeks with Niall Stella and me
together
in the temporary New York office, or walking along Broadway, or passionately discussing work over meals at great, locals-recommended restaurants. I’d unconsciously imagined the way he would laugh at my new and witty inside jokes over a beer at the end of the day and how we would share knowing looks across the table at our flurry of upcoming meetings.

But the reality was that I was most likely going to be sitting in the back of a crowded room taking notes, then returning alone to this hotel room for a month’s worth of room service meals.

I couldn’t text him, and I definitely didn’t want to call room service again tonight.

I checked my reflection in the mirror opposite the bathroom, and
yikes:
hair like a pile of hay, mascara smeared, pillow lines from temple to chin. I’d looked better after an all-nighter in college. Unless
I wanted to spend time making myself at least minimally presentable, I’d have to settle for a vending machine dinner of chips and diet soda.

With a handful of dollar bills and a stack of change shoved into the pocket of my bathrobe, I opened the door slowly and peered out down the hallway. It was surprisingly shadowed and unfamiliar (hey, jet lag!): the walls were covered in a dark-patterned paper and each door was illuminated with a tiny neon plaque and doorbells.

I spied the sign for an ice machine in the distance and tiptoed out, letting the door fall closed behind me. The carpet was soft and thick against the soles of my feet, a subtle reminder that beneath the cotton of my robe I was completely naked. I tried, but couldn’t hear the blurred shape of voices in a neighboring room, or even the hum of a television. It was too quiet, too still. The hallway stretched ominously dark in front of me. I took a few steps past my room, narrowing my eyes to prepare for the appearance of anything unexpected in the distance.

“Ruby?”

I let out a high-pitched squeal of surprise, flinching, and then squeezed my eyes closed as I recognized the voice, debating whether or not I should turn around. Maybe I could run away. Maybe I could pretend to be someone else and he would realize his mistake and go back down to wherever his room was.

No such luck.

“Ruby?” he asked again, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
Because normal people don’t run down the hallway in fancy hotels barefoot and in their bathrobes. And oh look, judging by the breeze sweeping up the inside of my robe, the air conditioner just kicked on, too.

Nice touch, universe.

“Hi!” I said—too brightly, far too loud—and turned on my heel to face him.

Startled, Niall Stella took a step back, nearly stumbling into the open doorway, which, coincidentally, was right next to mine.

Sharing a wall . . . maybe even a bathroom wall . . . where he showered . . . naked.

Focus, Ruby!

I went for casual. “What are
you
up to? I was just grabbing something to eat myself . . .” I said, lazily swinging the tie of my robe around before realizing what I was doing. I dropped it like I’d been burned.

“Something to eat?” he repeated.

I placed a hand against the wall and leaned there. “Yep.”

Niall Stella looked around the hallway and then back to me, eyes lingering on my robe. And maybe, just maybe, if my eyes were correct, my chest. Where my robe was now gaping, possibly exposing some boob.

We seemed to reach this conclusion at the same time.

His eyes snapped to my forehead and I clutched the material in my hands. At this rate, Niall Stella would see me fully naked by the end of the week.

“From the vending machine,” I explained, and reached
up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, groaning when I remembered how I looked. “I was just going to grab some chips. I mean the American kind of chip.”

He made a show of looking around. “Not sure a place like this will have Fritos,” he said, a pop of color staining his cheeks and a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Energy bars, perhaps? Caviar, definitely. Good thing you’re dressed for it.”

He was
teasing
me.

My brother was my best friend, his friends were my friends, and
this
is what I was good at. Banter. The give-and-take of joking with the guys. I could do this and not be an idiot. And not think about how I wanted to bang him. Maybe. Except he was wearing the charcoal suit—my favorite—and a dark shirt with no tie. I’d never seen him without a tie and it required superhuman strength to keep my eyes on his face, and not on that tiny stretch of skin exposed at the top of his open collar.

He had chest hair and my fingertips tingled with the urge to touch it. Alas, he was still waiting for me to respond.

“You’re lucky I even put this on,” I told him. “I usually eat Fritos pantsless on the couch.”

His eyebrow did a cute little amused twitch while the rest of his face remained impressively stoic. “In fact, I understand those are the instructions on the package. Sadly, the same is not usually true of caviar.”

“Or energy bars,” I added, and he laughed.

“Too right.”

Shrugging, I looked back at the door to my room. “I guess I’ll have another peek at the room service menu.”

“I’m going to lay you down,” he said, “and make you come.”

My eyes going wide as saucers, I whipped my head back his way. “You . . .
what
?”

With a confused draw of his brow, he said very slowly, “I’m going to head on down; would you like to come?”

“Oh,” I said, struggling to take a breath in, and let it out again. “You’re going to dinner downstairs?”

“You said this is your first time?” he started, and both our eyes widened before he added in a breathless rush, “In New York. Your first time in New York.”

“Um, yeah,” I answered, and closed my robe more tightly near my neck.

“Maybe you . . .” Niall started to say, but paused, reaching up as if to straighten a tie that wasn’t there. He dropped his hands again. “I’m meeting my brother. He and his wife live in the city, and I’m having dinner with him and a few business associates downstairs. Maybe you could join us.”

His brother lived here? I tucked this bit of information away, along with how badly I wanted to go—certain I was going to hate myself for this later—and shook my head. There was no way I was going to intrude.

“I think I’ll probably just—”

“You’d be doing me a favor if you joined me, actually,”
he cut in. “My brother Max is a bit of a handful.” Niall paused again as if he’d reconsidered, before giving a small shake of his head and continuing, “You’d be a welcome distraction.”

Because I’m Captain of Team Clueless and intent on painting each interaction between us with either nudity or a shade of awkward, I stood there, speechless, blinking for far longer than was socially appropriate.

“Of course, if you’d rather not—”

“No, no! Sorry, I . . . can you give me ten minutes to change and—” I motioned vaguely to the disaster atop my head.

“Ten minutes is all you need?” he asked skeptically.

God, he’s teasing me again
.

“Ten minutes,” I confirmed with a smirk. “Twelve if you don’t want my skirt in my underwear.”

Niall barked out a laugh that seemed to surprise us both before regaining his composure. “All right then. I’ll wait in the lobby. See you in
ten
.”

No person in the history of forever has ever changed as quickly as I did.

The moment the elevator doors closed behind him, I was off. My robe gone, I yanked a blue jersey dress from my suitcase and sprinted to the bathroom. I ran a washcloth over my face and raced to find my toiletries. I moisturized, concealed, and powdered at the speed of light.
A dab of product in my hair and I turned on the blow dryer, smoothing out the bedhead one section at a time. My flatiron heated up in seconds and after just a few passes I unplugged it, setting it aside. Teeth brushed, blush applied, mascara swiped, lip gloss smoothed, I threw on my dress with five minutes left to spare. Unfortunately I’d forgotten to put on underwear, so I used the remaining time to pull a pair from my suitcase, find a portable charger for my phone, and slip into a pair of sensible heels.

I reached for my bag, double-checked that the various parts of my dress were all where they belonged, and with a deep breath and a tiny prayer, walked to the elevator.

I stood, staring at where she’d emerged from the lift, and fell utterly speechless. She’d changed in under ten minutes, but looked . . . stunning. In an instant, I was both thrilled to be near her and resentful that this complicated wrinkle—the presence of Ruby—invaded what could otherwise be a dry, rote, and
easy
business summit.

Swallowing, I motioned behind me to the entrance of Knave. “Shall we get a bite?”

“Yes, please,” she said, and her enormous smile, her long silhouette slightly vibrating with excitement, pulled every remaining thought from my mind. “I could eat an entire cow right now. I hope they have a steak the size of your chest in there.”

I felt my eyebrow lift in amusement.

She laughed as she dug through her clutch for something, mumbling to herself, “I swear I’m normally more intelligent than this.”

I wanted to protest that Ruby was ebullient and refreshing.
But I held my tongue; this time, her observation hadn’t really seemed to bother her.

“My brother will be there,” I reminded her. “And his friends. I hope this is okay. They’re good people, just . . .”

“Guys?” she finished for me.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, I can handle
guys
,” she said, falling into step with me. I noted, perhaps not for the first time, that she had the ability to say things that might sound peckish had they come from my lips but sounded playful and lighthearted coming from hers.

“I imagine you can.”

Turning to look up at me at the hostess stand, she said quietly, “Is that a compliment?”

Her eyes twinkled under the spots of overhead lights just inside the bar, and again, she seemed to know already that whether or not it was a compliment, it certainly wasn’t an insult. The truth was, it had been praise. What I should have said was that she seemed able to handle almost anything.

“I wouldn’t dream of insulting any of your skills.”

“See?” She shook her head a little. With a teasing smile, she said, “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me. You’re so dry. Maybe I should have you hold up a sign.”

I hummed in response, giving her a wink before turning to the hostess. “We’re meeting some people here.” And as I spoke, just over her shoulder I spotted my brother and his
friends. “Ah, there they are.”

Without thinking, I took Ruby’s elbow and led her to a table surrounded by low, velvet couches and plush ottomans. Her arm was warm and toned, but once I realized how close to flirtation this had come I released it. It was the way I would lead a date to a table, not a coworker.

Our approach was noted when we were still several tables away, and the men seated—Max, Will, Bennett, and George—stopped talking to watch us. Ruby was tall but slight in a sort of gangly way, but you wouldn’t particularly dwell on it. Her posture was perfect, her chin always straight. She had the grace of a long-limbed woman just barely inside the door to adulthood.

Four pairs of eyes moved from Ruby’s face down her svelte body to her feet and back up before turning to me with renewed brightness.

Bloody hell
.

I knew without having to hear one word from his mouth what my wanker of a brother was thinking. I gave him a subtle shake of my head but his grin only expanded.

Everyone stood, greeting me and introducing themselves to Ruby in turn. Hands were grasped, names given, and pleasantries exchanged. A tangle of nerves clutched me. This no longer felt like a business dinner or even a social dinner with my mates. It felt somehow that Ruby was on display, that I was presenting her. That this was an
introduction
.

“I feel like I’m at a job interview,” she said as she took her seat beside George on a red
velvet sofa. “All these
suits
.”

I swallowed, feeling my face heat in embarrassment and relief as I realized she hadn’t shared my sense about the evening. We hadn’t been flirting after all.

I was rubbish at reading cues.

“The danger of Midtown, I’m afraid,” Bennett said with an easy smile, and waved down the waitress to come take our order.

“A gin and tonic, with as many limes as you can get in there,” Ruby said, and then glanced briefly at the limited bar menu. “And the prosciutto sandwich, please.”