Page 108 of Boss of the Year
“I’ll take cots with Joe and Barney. You and Lucas can take the room,” I suggested to Robbie.
“Absolutely not.” Lucas’s voice cut through our discussion. “Marie will stay with me. Robbie, you and the guys can take the cots.”
His commands brooked no argument, but I could see guilt in his expression. Poor Robbie was going to spend the night in an actual broom closet because of a booking mix-up that wasn’t his fault.
“Lucas,” I tried, keeping my tone low. “Really, it’s okay. It makes more sense for you two to share a room since he has to travel with you, and?—”
“You are not. Spending the night. In a fucking storage room,” he gritted through his teeth. “Isn’t that right, Robbie?”
Robbie looked so relieved that we had anywhere to sleep that I had a feeling he would have curled up in a cardboard box if Lucas had asked him. “Absolutely. And it’s just for one night. I promise, by tomorrow, I’ll have something much better figured out.”
He turned to the concierge and immediately started arguing about comping us the room and getting whatever other perks were possible while Lucas and I grabbed our bags. I tried Frankie again, but the call still went to voicemail.
“You don’t think you’re being a bit unfair?” I asked as we rode up to the eighth floor of the posh Georgian building. “It’s not his fault they booted us from the reservation.”
“It’s not his fault at all,” Lucas agreed. “But I need a reasonable night’s sleep to continue doing the business that pays everyone’s salaries. And I won’t get that sleep knowing you’re next to a couple of mercenaries.”
“Didn’t you hire them for protection, though? Seems like that would be the safest place in the world.”
He darted a quick blue look my way. “In some ways, maybe. But leaving you alone in a room with two men isn’t something I ever plan on doing.”
On that note, the elevator opened, and I followed him down the hall, where he opened the door with a swipe of his keycard.
The hotel room was small but elegant, decorated in soothing grays and creams with a view of Hyde Park. It had everything we would need for a comfortable night except one essential item: a second bed.
One king-size mattress dominated the limited space.
One.
As in uno.
As in a single bed designed for two people.
Lucas dropped his bags. “Fuck.”
“Sounds about right,” I agreed.
“Apparently, ‘two double beds’ was wishful thinking.”
“I’m going to leave them the worst Yelp review,” I concurred. “One star: inadequate separation for fragile emotional boundaries.”
Lucas snorted. “Two stars if the sheets are soft.”
We turned to each other with straight faces and immediately started chuckling. Seconds later, I was leaning into the doorframe for support, giggling like I hadn’t in weeks while Lucas was shaking his head and grinning.
The tension that had enveloped us since last night finally cracked like a broken egg.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said once we’d both calmed down.
I examined the narrow strip of carpet between the bed and the wall and then his tall frame. “You’ll never fit. Plus, you have meetings all day tomorrow. Your back will hurt, and you’ll probably end up costing your company a billion dollars when you bite the head off the prime minister or someone for saying ‘schedule’ too many times.”
He chuckled. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
“So have I. We can share.”
The words came out more confidently than I felt, and it didn’t help that Lucas immediately turned to me like he thought I was crazy.
“Lucas, come on. We’re adults, and just last night, we were rubbing up on each other in the onsen like horny dogs. I think we can handle a giant bed with a pillow wall between us. I’m not very big.”
