Masquerade by Cara Lockwood

Author:Cara Lockwood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-10-13T19:00:44+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

ASHA LAY IN a thick white cotton robe, her bare feet dangling from the white love seat in Durand’s suite at the Savoy the next morning, as she dipped an oversized strawberry into her flute of bubbling champagne and took a bite. This was the kind of breakfast she could get used to: fresh fruit and off-the-charts expensive champagne. Her head fell back on the pillow, nearly dislodging the hasty bun she’d made with her tangled hair that morning. Asha knew she should think about leaving. She’d overstayed her welcome and she’d had to unplug the phone so the front desk wouldn’t call. And the maids had been by five times already this morning. Soon enough, security would come knocking on her door, no doubt. And she was pretty sure this fruit from yesterday and the champagne chilling in the mini-bar was the last room service she’d get for some time. Actually, the front desk had made that clear the last time she’d called down. If she didn’t offer her own method of payment, no more hospitality would be offered to her by the Savoy. She could pay, but she didn’t want to. What she wanted was to teach Durand a lesson.

She told herself, of course, it wasn’t that she was just licking her own wounds, nursing her pride, hurt from being told by his cold-hearted assistant she was just one more conquest among dozens, one more exotique. He needed to be brought down a peg or two. So did his mean-spirited, jealous assistant...what was her name? Megan? Marie? Some M-name.

She heard the automatic key at the suite’s door, and then someone try to open it, but the safety lock was latched in place. Then, came a stern knock. It was probably Savoy management again, maybe with security this time. They’d ask her to leave, no doubt. Well, she’d damn well leave when she wanted. And not a minute before.

“Asha?” came a deep rumble of a voice she instantly recognized. Faint French accent. Durand.

She sat up, and her hand flew to her hair. She caught her reflection in the mirrored wall adjacent to the living room. She rushed to it, fluffing her hair and pinching her cheeks. She’d forgone makeup. And clothes, for that matter. She wore only the robe and had been quite comfortable for the last two days.

She swept to the suite’s main door. “Durand?” she asked, tentative, as she pressed her eye to the peephole. It looked as if he were alone. No security. No hotel management. Just Durand in a sleek, expensive gray suit, no tie, crisp white shirt open at the throat, one hand behind his back, looking sexy as hell. He almost seemed to meet her gaze through the peephole, flashing a wry grin.

“Asha, my chérie. Let me in.”

Her fingers found their way to the dead bolt, but then she hesitated. Durand sent his assistant to humiliate her. Now, he swept in after two days and all was forgiven? She opened the safety bolt just wide enough to open the door two inches.

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