Page 11 of Stalk

“Wonderful!” Rachel says. She turns her attention to a man working behind the check in counter and waves. “These gentlemen will leave their belongings to you, Adam. Please bring them up to rooms 800 and 801 as soon as you can.”

Adam nods to Rachel, then hurriedly strides away from the couple he was helping at the counter.

“Follow me,” Rachel instructs. She turns on a heel, and leads us to the other side of the lobby where the elevator is.

Rachel’s backside is just about as pleasant to look at as her front. She’s well-endowed in both areas, and I want to pinch myself. I need to stop obsessing over her, already, but I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Sure, there are many beautiful women all over Italy, but I guess it’s nice to see a different fish from a different pond.

We come to a stop behind Rachel as she presses the button to take us upstairs. To my surprise, no other guests get on or off when the doors eventually slide open. Once we’re inside and the doors are closed, Rachel presses the button for the eighth floor, then passes Marco and I our keycards.

“Mistress Giordano has asked that I take care of you during your stay. Mr. Giordano, you have the best suite in the hotel.” Her eyes take me in, and I can’t help but notice the way she glances down at my lips before looking back up. “I hope it is to your liking.”

I laugh somewhat nervously. “I’m sure it will be fine. Thank you.”

She turns her attention to Marco. “Mr. Ricci, your room is right across from Mr. Giordano’s. I assure you that it is oursecond bestsuite.”

Marco shoots her a shit eating grin. “Please, call me Marco.”

“Marco. It is nice to meet you.”

“I am Mattia,” I add. She turns back to me. “No need for such…formalities, Rachel.”

Her eyes widen and she bites her lower lip. “Mattia and Marco. Got it.”

The elevator dings and brings us to our destination.

“Your rooms are right here,” Rachel says as we walk out. “Mattia, I will show you into your suite. Marco, I will come and check in on you before I head back downstairs.”

Before Marco walks over to his suite, he sneakily sends me a wink once Rachel’s back is turned. My heart speeds up and I realize just how fucking long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid. Or been kissed, for that matter.

I readjust the strap of my laptop bag on my shoulder, then touch my keycard to the door. There was no way in hell I would risk leaving my laptop downstairs in the foyer. With a soft click, the door unlocks, and I open it wide for Rachel and I to enter.

Zìa really goes all out for trips like these. I can only imagine how luxurious our rental home will be. Rachel strides in and immediately makes a beeline for the curtains on the opposite side of the gigantic room. She opens the heavy curtains as wide as they will allow, allowing as much natural light to shine in on the king-sized bed, the eloquent, light teal walls, and everything else as possible.

“Is it to your liking?” she asks once she waltzes back over to me.

I chuckle. “Oh, yes. Thank you so much.”

Rachel hesitates by the door. “Your aunt has instructed me to be here for you if you need anything. Restaurant recommendations, local nightlife spots… if you’d like to know the hidden gems in the city. Just let me know, okay?”

She takes out a small business card from the pocket of her dress and hands it to me. On it is her name and phone number. Turns out, she’s one of the managers at the hotel.

“That’s my personal cell phone number, should you need it.”

I grip the card in my hand and decide to be ballsy. Why the hell not? My pulse quickens, but I shoot my shot. As soon as she turns to take her leave, I say, “Well, there is one thing.”

Rachel looks behind her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Would you be free to accompany me for a drink sometime during my stay? I understand if you’re busy?—”

“I’d love that,” she says quickly, before I can even get a chance to ramble or make a fool out of myself. “Text me and we’ll set something up.” With a smile that shows off her straight white teeth, she opens the door. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

CHAPTER 6

Ren

After watching and following Helena for the last couple of days, I know her routine like the back of my hand. I wish I didn’t—just like I wish today wasn’t already Wednesday.

I wake up at my usual time, around nine. At this time, Helena should still be passed out on her couch. Though she has a bedroom in her apartment, she never uses it. Not even to have sex. I know this because of the cameras I broke in to install shortly after reading Helena’s report on Monday. It was much easier to break in and go unnoticed due to Helena being severely under the influence, but invading her privacy in that way still left me feeling utterly disgusting.

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