Nights With Parker (2 page)

“Oh, hell no.” There’s no way, no fucking way, I’m staying in this shithole. Clearly, I’m being punished for something. What, I don’t know, but I’m not about to sit around here and find out. Grabbing my bags, I turn back out toward the hallway, to the elevators, and right out the lobby. I make it to my rental car in record time, toss my bags inside, and point my car in the direction of the nearest Hyatt.

***

After my horrific encounter at the shithole that we own and then checking in to an decent hotel, I take a few hours to relax and unpack my things. I attend an afternoon meeting to introduce myself to the current hotel owners and upper management, where I find myself spending more time counting the minutes until I can get the hell out of there than I actually do engaging with them. Oh well, I don’t need to be nice. I just need to do my job. Becoming friendly with the people I’m about to piss off or replace is not high on my list of shit to do.

When I leave the hotel again, I finally look around me. Savannah, Georgia, is the complete opposite of New York City in every way, and while I don’t think I could ever live in a place like this, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it’s a beautiful city. Opting to leave my car parked where it is for the time being, I decide to walk the streets for a while and maybe grab a bite to eat before calling it a night. You can see the history of the town just by walking around and looking at the buildings. Antique shops, pubs, and restaurants line the city streets. It really was a sound business decision to purchase a hotel here, but the one they chose is a dump. Lucky for them, I like a challenge. I’ll get that place turned into a five-star hotel, and I won’t even break a sweat doing it.

I come across a small restaurant on the corner of one of the side streets and decide it’s as good a place as any to eat. It’s busy for a Thursday night, but in a tourist town like this, I figure most places are. The place looks more like a house than it does a restaurant with exposed brick walls and family pictures hanging everywhere. This kind of place makes you feel welcome in a way. The hostess seats me immediately at a table in the rear, hands me a menu, tells me the specials, and indicates that my server will be with me shortly. The woman at the hotel front desk could learn a thing or two about hospitality from this girl. I peruse the contents of my menu, which consists mostly of
fried chicken, sausage, beef stew, meatloaf, and a ton of other artery clogging side dishes.

“Hello, I’m Riley, and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

The sound of her voice is quiet but sweet, sexy as all fuck, and I have no choice but to look up from my menu in order to find out who it belongs to. Usually, when the voice doesn’t match the face, there’s a level of disappointment there, but this time, it works in her favor. The voice may be sexy, but this girl … this girl is just stunning. Not sexy, not sweet, just beautiful. She’s of average height but curvy, the stark opposite of what I would normally go for, but on her, it works. Her blond hair falls in layers around her face, accentuating the best part of her. Her deep blue eyes call attention to them, drawing you in while her button nose and full lips make her face look almost porcelain. Jesus, I’m getting hard just looking at her. As a matter of fact, one look at her, and Savannah is becoming more and more appealing.

“Bourbon, please.”

“Sure. Do you need a few more minutes with the menu or are you ready to order?” she questions, shifting her weight from one foot to the next. Leaning back in my chair, I let my gaze run from top to bottom, taking her in completely and making her aware of the fact I’ve noticed her.

“What do you recommend?” I question with a smirk.

“The Southern fried chicken is really good here,” she replies quietly. I watch with mild amusement as she taps the tip of her pen on her notepad. Her hands are bare; no wedding ring means she’s fair game.

“I’ll try that with the mashed potatoes and gravy. Thank you, Riley,” I say, using her name as a form of intimidation. Making her squirm for some reason gives me an almost sick level of satisfaction. She’s nothing like who I’m used to dealing with. Actually, I’m not sure she’d last a day in New York City.

“I’ll put your order right in.” She turns on her heel and walks away in a hurry as I watch on, enjoying the view a little too much. My phone chimes, and I glance down at the latest text message from my older brother, Jacob.

How’s the property looking to you? Are you all checked in?

I roll my eyes, wondering why he always feels the need to check in on me. He and our father treat me like I’m the family fuck-up because I don’t always agree with the way they run the company.

Checked in, it’s a fucking dump. I’ll take care of it … I always do.

I type out my response, hit send, and then turn the phone off. I don’t want to be bothered with any more of his nonsense. If this job didn’t keep me in the lifestyle I’m accustomed to, I would have left a long time ago. Working the family business is more than just a birthright, it’s an expectation. My father wouldn’t accept it any other way, and for some fucking reason, I still care about my family.

“Here you are.” Riley reappears, placing a napkin then my drink on the table. “Your food will be out shortly.”

“Riley?” I call before she has a chance to retreat.

“Yes, sir?” She looks me dead in the eyes; her posture is firm, and her shoulders squared. She’s used the time away from me to re-up her defenses.

“What does one do for fun in Savannah?”

She lets out an audible sigh, relaxing just a little before responding.

“Well, there’s a ton of museums you can check out, and you can take a walking or a trolley tour through the historic district.” Her blue eyes glimmer in the dimly lit space, and I imagine what they look like in the moments before she comes. I imagine her mouth involuntarily opening mid gasp as I slam my cock into her. I imagine a throaty cry when I pull out and thrust back in. This is where my mind goes; all the while, she stands there looking the picture of virginal innocence.

“I just got into town a few hours ago. Would you have any interest in perhaps giving me a tour?”
And a ride.

She looks at me as though she can read my thoughts. She knows I’d like to fuck her until she sees God, and she wants no part of that kind of spiritual awakening.

“I don’t make it a habit of going out with people I don’t know.”

“Then how do you ever get to know anybody?” I retort with my best flirtatious grin.

“I’m going to go check on your food.” She’s gone before I can utter another word. Before, she was just a pretty girl I could see myself fucking … but now, she’s become a challenge. One way or another, this is going to end with her mouth wrapped around my cock.

I let her keep her careful distance when she delivers my dinner, watching her through the corner of my eye as she checks on her other tables, and give her the polite “good, thank you,” when she asks how my meal is.

“I’ll take this whenever you’re ready,” she says, placing the check on the table after having cleared my plate and asking if I had room for dessert.

“I’m ready now.” I pull my wallet out, grab the first credit card I see, and hand it to her. When she comes back with my receipt, she gives me a forced smile.

“You have a wonderful evening.”

“Do you work again tomorrow, Riley?”

Her hesitation is cute, but it only makes me want her more.

“Yes.”

“What time?”

She debates whether to answer me because she can’t tell which way the conversation will go. It takes a second, but she finally speaks.

“The dinner shift.”

“Wonderful,” I say, pushing my chair back and rising to my feet. The contrast in our height is significant; the way I tower over her gives me a sense of power. “I have a meeting in the morning, but if you’d be interested, I’d be more than happy to pay you to be my tour guide.”

Her eyes grow wide with surprise and confusion. “I’m sorry; I don’t think I can do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a tour guide,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. “Actual tour guides would do a much better job than I would.”

“Likely so,” I agree with a smile. “But I want you.”

“Why?” she asks, shifting her weight in a sign of annoyance.

“Because I’d like to see some of the sights, and I’d very much enjoy the company of a beautiful woman when I do it.”

“Look …”

“Oliver,” I interject, trying to make this more personal by extending my name.

“Oliver, I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

“Why not? We know each other now. We’re on a first-name basis.” She smiles, and I know she’s wavering, but I decide to sweeten the pot and make it more about business than anything else. “Would one hundred dollars do?”

“It’s not about …”

“Two hundred.”

“Oliver.”

“Fine. I will give you five hundred dollars for three hours.”

“A three-hour tour?” she questions with a raised eyebrow and the barest hint of a smile.

“Yes. A three-hour tour. Do we have a deal, Riley?”

“You do know you can get a tour for a fraction of that cost, don’t you?”

I sigh in mock frustration. “Riley.”

“Okay.”

I pull a business card out of my wallet and hand it to her. “I’m staying at the Hyatt Regency; meet me outside at eleven am,” I instruct before walking away, not giving her a chance to back out.

OLIVER

“Effective immediately, the entire housekeeping staff is being let go.” I say the words, aware of how harsh they sound, but there is no easy way to say them. I’ve never seen such a filthy fucking hotel in my entire life. The groans and moans of those affected hit me with a tremendous amount of force. I feel bad for some of them, I really do. It’s never fair when the good employees are punished because of the carelessness of the bad ones, but I don’t have time to weed out the good from the bad. This hotel needs to be in top condition quickly if it’s going to be a Parker Hotel.

“You’ll each receive a severance package that will be determined by the length of your service, and you’ll all be entitled to collect unemployment benefits, but as of today, I’ve contracted a temporary cleaning service to relieve you of your duties. I’ll be taking time over the next few months to hire a new staff, and you are all more than welcome to apply.”

I say this in order to give them some type of hope, but the chances of me hiring any of them are slim. I’ve barely even said thank you before I turn and walk out of the conference room. It’s just easier that way. Thinking about looks of sadness, anger, and disappointment doesn't help me to get the job done. Checking the time as I get in my car, I surmise that I have less than half an hour before I’m due to meet Riley. Within a matter of minutes, I’m parked and making my way to the hotel. When I reach my room, I quickly undress, throwing my discarded suit on a nearby chair to change into comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. My phone rings, and I know it’s either Jacob or my father wanting a brief about this morning’s announcement. They’ll just have to wait until I’m ready to return the call. I grab my wallet, leaving my phone where it is on the bed, and head downstairs.

As promised, Riley is waiting for me out front. Her blond hair waving in the wind makes her look almost whimsical. As her eyes lock on mine, my step falters, making me pause for a moment. Her gaze hits me as if it were a physical force, like a beam pulling me to her, and for the briefest of seconds, I’m left feeling bare, vulnerable even. The feeling makes me uncomfortable, makes me want to turn and walk away, because I swear she can see right through me. I could swear that with one look at me, she can see everything about me that lies buried deep, past the carefully crafted façade to a view I’m not happy to share.

“Riley,” I greet, as I recover and continue my trajectory to her.

“Oliver,” she returns with a shy smile.

She looks different in the light of day, outside of the dimly lit restaurant where she works. She has a lovely glow to her skin, her cheeks tinted a demure shade of pink, and her pouty lips glossed in a soft nude color. You wouldn’t find a face like hers in the pages of a fashion magazine; she’s far too pure and clean for that. The girl next door who, given the right tools, would bring any man to his knees. Her beauty is there, but hidden, and she likes it that way. She likes to blend in with the crowd. Being the center of attention makes her uncomfortable. She’s not comfortable with my eyes on her and the thoughts she knows are in my head.

“I’m glad to see you made it,” I say when I finally reach her.

She averts her gaze, choosing instead to glance at the ground rather than look me in the eye. I like that she reacts to me like this. I like that I intimidate her. Her body language tells me that I have the upper hand, and that’s always my goal.

“I said I would,” she replies quietly. So quietly that I could have easily missed it above the chatter on the street.

“And you’re a woman of your word.”

“I am.” She finally looks at me, gives me her pretty eyes, and the thoughts her gaze ignites in me are even more fucked up than I care to admit.

“That’s an excellent trait to have.” I compliment her, hoping that it will help her relax a bit.