ALL THAT HE WANTS (Volume 1 The Billionaire's Seduction) (11 page)

The weird thing was, she seemed almost awestruck.

“Mr. Templeton, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” she said in a very friendly, but slightly panicked, voice.

I recognized that voice. It was the same tone I used whenever I had to interact with the bigwigs at my company when they came in for meetings. Like, the
big
bigwigs – the CEO, the COO, the CFO…

And she called him ‘Mr. Templeton’ again.

Man, Sebastian sure did his job well… whoever they think Mr. Templeton is, they’re about to mess their pants over him.

“Please, call me Connor,” he smiled. “Are the rooms ready?”

I frowned.
The rooms? Plural?

I was confused – but it sure meant something to the bodyguard.

“Connor, no,” Johnny protested, his face suddenly set and unsmiling.

Connor’s eyes flitted down to me, then back up. “Johnny –
yes.
”

Johnny just sighed. Connor turned back to the supermodel behind the counter.

“Yes, they are,” she confirmed a little too eagerly as she slid two sets of plastic keycards across the marble countertop. Connor took one, and Johnny took the other. “Of course, you know about the code to get in – ”

“Yes, I’ve stayed here before,” Connor interrupted. His voice was amused, but also a tad bit annoyed, as though he wanted to wrap this up.

She blushed a deep scarlet. “Of course. My apologies.”

I scrunched up my face.
What the heck was this chick apologizing for?

“And the room service – ” Connor began.

“ – is on its way,” she finished. “As is the luggage.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Templeton. Would you like a bellhop to show you up?”

“No, we’ve got it from here.”

“Of course. Have a wonderful stay.”

She flashed her smile at him, then at me, and bowed just slightly at the neck. I smiled back at her, and then Connor pulled me away from the desk and toward the elevators.

I’m sure it was fairly normal to get gold-standard service at a super-posh hotel, but her vibe was odd. It was like she was talking to Bill Gates, or the President, or Jesus or something.

Weird, weird, WEIRD.

“Does
everybody
kiss your ass all the time?” I whispered to Connor.

He laughed loudly. “Not you, apparently.”

“Is that why you brought me along? To remind you of what normal human interaction is like?”

“You mean, without a pair of lips puckered on my posterior?”

“Exactly.”

He gave me a sly look. “We’ll see about getting them puckered around something else later on.”

I blushed and smacked him on the arm. He just laughed again.

The elevator door slid open. From that last comment – and from previous experience in the elevator at Exerton about an hour ago – I was a little concerned about what Connor might try inside. But Johnny stepped in with us, and I was relieved.

And a little bit disappointed, to tell the truth.

The interior was gorgeous, with dark, paneled wood and marble flooring. The control panel looked like it was obsidian, except for the 18 buttons for the various floors, which were pearl inlaid with gold numbers.

Connor hit the top one – which didn’t have a number. Just the letter ‘P.’

The light blinked, and he inserted one of the cards the front desk supermodel had given him into a slot in the obsidian panel.

The light stopped blinking and glowed brightly, and the elevator started moving.

My eyes bugged out. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“About what, the penthouse?”

I nodded.

“Nope, not kidding.”

I looked over at Johnny, as though asking him to confirm it was all just a joke. He shook his head grimly. “Unfortunately, no.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘unfortunately’?”

Connor grinned. “Because he has to stay in the little kid’s room across the hall.”

“The little kid’s room?”

Johnny sighed. “Every penthouse in – ”

Connor coughed.

Johnny paused, then resumed again.

Okay, THAT was weird…

“…in a lot of hotels have a secondary residence nearby… for security details.”

“For you, you mean,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because Johnny doesn’t want me to wipe my ass without him standing outside the door,” Connor smirked.

Johnny just rolled his eyes.

“
That’s
a pleasant image,” I said sarcastically.

Connor gave me a look like I had something nasty on my face. “I didn’t know you were into stuff like that…”

I hit him again on the arm. “Gross! Shut up!”

He laughed.

“Seriously, Connor,” Johnny said, “I’d feel a lot better if – ”

“No. I want my privacy tonight.”

“But – ”

“NO, Johnny.”

His voice was cold, his expression commanding. A chill went down my spine.

Johnny just sighed again. Apparently he was used to losing a lot of battles this way.

“You’re the boss.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Be nice,” I said, nudging him.

He looked down at me, amused. “Why should I?”

“Because he’s just looking out for you.”

The elevator door dinged and slowly opened.

“Remind him of that someday when his ass gets killed,” Johnny said to me, then stepped out into the hallway and looked in both directions.

“What does
that
mean?” I asked Connor, a little worried.

“It means Johnny’s overprotective, is what it means. Coast clear?”

Johnny nodded, and we stepped out.

It was a short hallway, only about twenty feet long, but it was incredibly beautiful. Thick, luxurious carpet… dark wood paneling… another, smaller chandelier casting its soft light from the ceiling… and a massive mahogany door across from the elevator. Next to the door was a tiny obsidian panel, like a baby version of the one in the elevator, with a gold keypad next to it.

“I’m checking out the room first,” Johnny informed us.

“Fine, as long as you don’t stay,” Connor said.

Johnny shook his head like
Why do I put up with this?
, then inserted one of his cards into the panel. A red light blinked, and he tapped out a code on the gold keypad.

The light turned green, and Johnny pulled out the card, opened the door, and stepped inside. He was gone for about fifteen seconds, and then he came back to the door. “Coast is clear.”

Connor led me inside by the hand.

The inside of the penthouse was entirely different from the hotel, but no less amazing. Maybe even more.

The first thing that hit me was all the glass. As in, almost every wall had at least one gigantic window that was at least thirty feet long. The city lights sparkled outside like diamonds on black velvet. I walked over and gazed down at Sunset Boulevard. Two hundred feet below, club-goers marched along the sidewalks like little columns of ants, and the jam-packed traffic moved along an inch at a time.

On the opposite side of the massive apartment, I could see the Hollywood Hills. In case you haven’t been to LA, just north of Hollywood is a very, very small mountain range that extends for about four or five miles. And on its slopes are some of the most expensive homes in Los Angeles outside of Beverly Hills and Bel Air. A lot of young, hip actors and directors and producers live up there – along with real estate moguls and doctors trying to be young and hip. Plus the occasional drug dealer, from what I’ve heard. But no matter who owns them, they shine like fairy houses in the darkness, tiny outposts of luxury on curving roads and steeper hills.

I stood there, entranced. Los Angeles can be an ugly place – brown and dry in the summer months, overdeveloped with a thousand grungy strip malls, packed to the gills with way too many people. But seen up here, with the patterns of lights stretching far in the distance… it was magical.

“Want a drink?” Connor called from the fully stocked bar in the corner of the room. From what I could see, it was
all
top shelf stuff.

“Actually, I need to use the little girl’s room to freshen up. Where…?”

Connor pointed to the left. “Back through the bedroom.”

I smiled demurely and skedaddled.

I’ll spare you the details of what I did in there, but I
won’t
spare the details on the bathroom itself.

But first… the bedroom.

It was dark when I walked in. Well, except for the lights from outside. Like the rest of the penthouse, there was a gigantic window. One whole side of the room, in fact, looking out on the Hollywood Hills.

Okay,
I thought,
that’s a stunning view, but it’s going to be a pain in the ass when the sun comes up in the morning.

As I was fumbling around for the light switch, though, I figured out that it wasn’t going to be a problem. I hit some kind of sliding dimmer switch, and the glass went from transparent, to vaguely translucent, to completely opaque. I found myself plunged into complete darkness.

“Oh… my… God,” I whispered.

I was spending the night in a sci-fi movie.

I moved the dimmer up and down several times, transfixed by how the glass went from totally clear to a wall of black. Then I realized I should probably move along before Connor came in and found me acting like a three-year-old playing with a car’s door locks.

I moved my hand over and found the lights.

And was transported into paradise.

The room was exquisitely decorated in neutral colors that shaded into darker territory. The dark coverlet on the bed looked so soft and plush I wanted to run and jump on it (again, like a three-year-old). Over the bed hung a billowing, white cloth canopy that made the room look like a tent out of
1001 Arabian Nights
. Little sofas and chairs with overstuffed pillows, beautiful hanging lamps… I was in love. I wanted to stay in there forever… until I finally tore myself away and went into the bathroom. Then my fickle heart found another infatuation.

I’m a sucker for big, beautiful bathrooms, and this one was larger than my apartment.

The décor continued the lobby’s theme of black obsidian with gold fixtures. There was a giant jacuzzi bathtub set into the floor that looked almost as deep as I was tall. It sat in front of a massive window overlooking the twinkling lights of Los Angeles. I could imagine relaxing in there, the water bubbling sensually around me, with a glass of champagne and Connor as we…

Ahem.

I’ll move on to the rest of the bathroom now.

The shower was gorgeous, a wide open space with two golden showerheads on opposing walls – and a huge one, three feet in diameter, directly overhead! I guess it was for that ‘summer rainfall’ feel or something.

Oh – you know how a hotel will give you a teensy little bottle of shampoo and another of body wash? Unless they just combine them into one generic mishmash of ‘shampoo / body wash’?

Ten different bottles in the shower, all with expensive-sounding names. Three types of conditioner, too.

There were mirrors everywhere. Two sinks set into the obsidian counters with gold faucets. Next to them, an assortment of exquisite-smelling soaps and lotions.

The towels were heaven – thick, luxurious expanses of softest white, with ‘The Dubai’ embroidered in black thread. Oh, and bathrobes of the same material hanging on the wall.

A few flowers graced the room, arranged tastefully in glass vases. Orchids and – in what I took as a good omen – lilies. There were only a handful, but I figured that was because their scent was already pleasant enough. Any more in such an enclosed space, and it might have been overpowering.

After I’d finished up, I took one last look around, reluctantly tore myself away, and returned to the main room of the penthouse.

When I came out of the bedroom, I surveyed the rest of the penthouse: plush leather sectional couches. A widescreen TV bigger (and thinner) than I’d ever seen before. A magnificent dining table. And most surprising of all, a pool of water in the floor that glowed sapphire blue.

That’s when I realized that the pool – about ten feet square – extended
under
the glass walls to the outside, where it joined a much larger swimming pool on a private patio. Sumptuous outdoor chairs and more potted jungle plants ringed the glowing blue water. I could start in here, swim under the glass wall, and end up outside with a few strokes.

Johnny saw me looking at the pool. “Yeah, I’m not too fond of that,” he said to Connor.

Connor was over by the sofa taking off his tie and jacket. I had a lovely little flashback to less than an hour ago as he shrugged off his clothes.

“Relax, there’s a gate,” he told Johnny.

I looked closer. Sure enough, a sturdy metal gate extended from the bottom of the tiled pool to the bottom of the glass wall.

“Don’t worry,” Connor said to me, “if you want to go swimming, there’s a button that retracts it. Or…”

He pushed a glass door open to the outside patio area.

“…you could walk outside like jus’ plain folks.”

Johnny shook his head in disgust. “This room is way too unsecured.”

“No, it just
looks
that way,” Connor answered.

“Whatever, I’d still feel better if – ”

Knock, knock.

Someone was at the door.

Johnny tensed up, and his hand reached unconsciously towards the inside of his jacket.

“Relax, it’s room service,” Connor said. “But, just to be sure it’s not a crazed killer, why don’t you check for yourself?”

“I will,” Johnny shot back. He walked past the luggage, which had already been left before we walked in, and opened the door.

A man in a crisp white uniform stood behind a rolling table disguised under a linen tablecloth. On top were two domed metal dishes, a crystal decanter of red wine, two bulb-shaped glasses, and two lit candles on ornate silver bases.

“Room service,” he announced brightly.

Johnny stooped down, peeled up the tablecloth, and looked underneath.