Page 3 of Hollywood Crush

She wasn’t exaggerating. The hotel was as old fashioned on the inside as it was on the outside. It was dark, with walls made of deep mahogany lit by struggling fluorescent bulbs in a chandelier that had seen better days. It was pretty cold, not the respite from the storm I had expected. Behind reception ran a single staircase, and there was a door either side of us leading deeper into the hotel. I couldn’t see an elevator anywhere.

I couldn’t see any people either. It was as dead as a cemetery, and I could hear nothing but the howling wind and creaking timbers. I stepped toward the reception desk — it had been polished to a sparkle at least — and pressed the bell. It chimed throughout the foyer, but no one came. I pressed it again.

“Coming!” shouted a voice from one of the hallways. It was deep and echoed through the foyer before its owner stepped through the doors. He was a taller man than I with dark blonde hair, dark blue-grey eyes and stubble on his cheeks and chin. His hair looked like he had been raking his fingers through it and messed it up, and he was wearing a dark red shirt with black trousers. He had a purposeful stride and his arms and shoulders filled his shirtsleeves very nicely. I was conscious of myself looking him up and down with little shame. He was gorgeous.

“So sorry if you’re looking for a room,” he said.I couldn’t stop staring at his face so barely noticed when Sandra once again stepped up to stand alongside me. “But we’re fully booked from Monday onwards so you’d only be able to stay the weekend. Got some big film stars staying here and you know what they’re like, divas, the lot of them. You should see some of the demands…” he chuckled. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

It was that moment that Sandra chose to explode.

Chapter Two

Tudor

“What the fuck do you mean bydemands, idiot?” said the little lady stood at reception with nails that looked like they could scratch off the varnish that I’d so carefully applied to the counter. I’d hardly noticed her thus far, I was so enraptured with the man stood next to her. He had olive-tanned skin and dark brown hair that was perfectly coiffed hair despite the rain. Stubble played around the edges of his cheeks. His eyes were a deep dark brown like the mahogany of the worktop. He wore an expensive looking linen shirt and jeans that hugged every inch of him from ankle to arse. I wanted to take him back to my room and blow his mind.

I tore my eyes away from him to focus on the woman. “I asked, what do you mean,demands?” she screeched again.

“Sorry,” I replied as earnestly as I could. “Just that film crews have very exacting standards, all those big personalities you know.”

“And they have the right to!” The woman looked furious.Shit. They were part of the film crew.

“So sorry madam, let me show you both around the hotel. I’m sure you’ll find that we’ve renovated to an exceptionally high standard in anticipation of your arrival.”

And we had. For the most part. But the advance pay for the filming had only covered so much, so reception had been left till last when the bedrooms had such particular demands.

“No, no, no. I want to see your manager. No, screw that. I want to see theownerof this hotel and have you reprimanded — no, fired — for speaking to a star in the way you just have. Don’t you know who he is?”

I hesitated, looking between the lady and the man — of course he was a film star and not just crew with those Hollywood good looks of his. He hadn’t jumped to my defence yet, but then again if he was friends with this woman he could hardly be the nicest of people. When I looked at him he bit his lip as if to stop himself from saying anything.

I realised if I wanted this situation to go anywhere, I would have to take control. I was always, always in control.

“Thing is,” I replied when it was apparent the woman had stopped speaking, “I am the owner. Tudor Morris, at your service.”

“Of this dump? I’m not surprised. Don’t be surprised if the film crew leave the second I warn them about this place.”

“Sandra.” The man’s voice was low anddemanding as he spoke for the first time. “I need you to stop. Thank you for picking me up. Don’t you have more to do today?”

“Well, um, yes. I guess I’ll be going. Don’t think I won’t fight for better accommodation for you. I’m not having you stay in this place for long. Don’t want you to catch anything.”

And with that, Sandra — I presumed that was her name — turned on her heel and strutted out.

“I presume you must be Mr Ellison?” I said to the man as she left. “Only, it seems you’re not booked in until tomorrow. Same day the director is meant to arrive.”

“Oh, please God tell me you have a room ready for me. I don’t have anywhere to stay otherwise.” Mr Movie Star Daniel Ellison looked genuinely worried, so I gave him my best reassuring smile.

“No worries, we’ve got a room made up for you and luggage arrived yesterday. Follow me.”

Before leading him up the stairs I gestured to the doorway on the right of reception. “The bar is through there. I think the production company are doing their own catering but as no one told us you were arriving so soon I can get some grub rustled up for you tonight.” I pointed to the door on the other side. “And through there is staff accommodation, but if you follow the hallway to the end and down the stairs to the basement you’ll find the gym. State of the art.” It had cost the last of our renovation bill too being requested so lastminute, but the crew would hopefully bring more money in with future series and we’d have plenty of tourism if the show was half as successful as the books it was based off. The producer who I’d first spoken to called it theLord of the Ringseffect, and if we were one tenth as successful from this show as parts of New Zealand had been from Lord of the Rings we’d be in for a treat.

We walked up the stairs, Mr Ellison just behind me, all the way up to the second floor. “Room 302,” I said. The keys had been left in the doors on this corridor as there were no other guests at the hotel for the entire weekend and it had been easier to make sure the clean up was completed. I stuck my head in to make sure Llywelyn, our renovate, hadn’t left any paint or DIY materials behind.

“Welcome to your room,” I said. It was one of the nicest, with off-white walls and crisp white sheets, a new king size bed and artwork above it. Off to one side was an en-suite with a shower and bath separate. The whole thing still smelled faintly of paint. The producers had been very exacting of the standards expected for actors, producers and directors. The rooms for the crew, though nice, just hadn’t been allocated the same exacting specifications. The luggage which had been shipped in ahead of Mr Ellison had been left at the foot of the bed.

“Thank you, looks…comfy,” said Mr Ellison.

“Is there anything else you need?” I asked.

“No, all good. When is dinner?”

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