Page 16 of Temptation
“Lucky guess. Do you like working at The Lodge?”
I chew my venison as I think about it. The Emerald Heart Resort is the most upmarket resort on the mountain. There are plenty of boutique hotels and private cabins for the tourists who flock to Wild Heart Mountain, but the resort and especially The Lodge is something different.
It caters to the high end tourists, those who can afford the $1000 a night rooms, right up to the penthouse suits which costs more than I earn in six months. Then there are the private cabins nestled in the woods and dotted up the mountain to be even closer to the ski fields.
“It’s… a good job.”
The clientele is wealthy. We get some celebrities and sports stars, and most people are friendly and they tip well, but there are also a few entitled assholes. Like Chad.
At the thought of him and his rich Ivy League buddies, I cringe. I was stupid to think that they were doing anything but playing with me. Which is exactly what this man at the opposite end of the table is doing.
Lorenzo notices my change in mood, and he goes still. “What is it, coniglietto? What happened to you?”
I take a sip of the smooth wine, enjoying the warmth it brings.
“Wealthy people come to the lodge,” I tell him evenly. “Some of them feel like they’re entitled toplaywith the staff.”
My chin juts out as I say it, letting him know that I know exactly what’s going on here. I’ve been the pawn in one man’s game, and now I’m the pawn in another. “I guess that’s the thing with wealthy people. They like toplaywith us commoners.”
Lorenzo pushes his chair back and stands up. The sudden movement surprises me, but I keep my eyes on his.
He strides to my end of the table, coming up close until he’s leaning over me.
“I’m not playing, Greta. And you’re anything but common.”
The scent of wine and leather and a delicious expensive aftershave fills me senses. My breath hitches as I look into his intense eyes.
“This isn’t a game.”
“Then what is it?” I snap.
His nostrils flare, and he reaches out a hand. My skin pebbles in anticipation of his touch. But he stops his finger centimeters from my cheek.
“I don’t know what this is. All I know is I can’t stop watching you.” His fingers tremble, and I will him to caress my cheek.
“Ever since you turned up at my door like a gift from the fates, you’ve awoken a longing inside me, Greta, one that I thought was long buried. I watch you sleep, I watch you eat, I watch you make yourself come with that pretty hand of yours. I don’t know what this is, Greta, but it’s not a game.”
His words make me shiver with equal parts indignation and desire. How did he watch me touch myself? My mind reels, but of course he would have cameras in the room. My cheeks heat and so do my insides. I clench my thighs together as my core tightens.
He speaks of longing, and as I breathe him in, his scent, his presence, I long for his touch. My head tilts, leaning into his hand. He pulls it away quickly, but not before I see his trembling fingers.
I won’t touch you.
His words echo in my head, and I swallow the lump of disappointment with another sip of wine.
Lorenzo pulls out the chair next to mine.
“So tell me. Who played with you, and what do I need to do to make it better?”
By the time I finish telling Lorenzo about Chad, he’s pacing the room with his hands coiled into fists.
The waiter brought in dessert a long time ago. A platter of Italian candy sits in the middle of the table, untouched.
Lorenzo stops in front of the window and looks out to the dark forest. From here, you can see the lights of the resort twinkling in the distance. I think about my brother and going back to our cabin and find that I don’t want to.
Lorenzo turns around to face me, and his face is in shadow.
“It’s late, coniglietto. You need your rest.”
