05 | mr. romano
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The bright sunlight is what jolts me from my sleep. That and the sudden chill that came from the vent above me. My eyes flutter open, taking in the sight of the floor to ceiling windows glaring directly at me. Turns out I'd fallen asleep on my back, my hair neatly laying under me, much to my surprise.
Memories of last night flash through my mind, recalling the three other rounds after he came the first time.
Yeah, we were busy.
Turning my head slightly, I catch sight of the man in question and try not to gasp at the view of his beautifully taut back. He's resting on his stomach, his head on his hands, and turned the other way. He has delicately inked wings along his upper back — I didn't see this last night.
I don't have the time to admire them before I realize what time it is. "Fuck," I whisper under my breath as I visually search for my purse in the pile of clothes in the corner. With no luck, I'm forced to get up from my spot in the bed and limp over to the stash with sore legs.
Finally finding it, I check the time — 7:27 AM. Crap. Laurie and I are supposed to have a meeting with Mr. Romano at 8:30. With that in mind, I spare the man a short glance before quickly throwing on my dress and grabbing my shoes.
He shifts slightly, making me pause in my footsteps. And then he goes back to sleep.
Silently thanking God, I continue my haste and make my way down the steps of the lofted bedroom. It's a clear shot to the elevator so I waste no time rushing towards it and pressing the down button - maybe four times too many, but something in me was yelling "The more you press it, the faster it'll arrive!"
Obviously, that was not the case considering it was taking its own sweet time.
Finally. Fina-fucking-ly, the doors open with a ding and I can't help the wince that escapes me at the sound. Praying that this doesn't wake him up, I swiftly step into the lift and press the seven-button with the same amount of fervor. This time, it seems to pick up that I'm in a rush and it closes before I can blink.
Thank God.
The walk - or rather limp - to my hotel room was painful, to say the least. Rushing out of mystery man's hotel room was based on pure adrenaline, but now that it's worn off, I want to do nothing but cry about what I'll be missing and of course, ice my inner thighs.
I take a quick hot shower and get dressed in my outfit for the day. Can't forget the Tylenol or the makeup to conceal my 'souvenirs'. As Roxanne said before, first impressions are the best impressions and this outfit is sure to solidify the fact that I'm a professional woman with an impeccable fashion sense. Laurie, on the other hand . . .
She's leaning her head against the wall opposite my room when I step out of it and lock the door behind me. A pair of sunglasses cover her eyes and she has a thermos in her grip. She's dressed in a business suit - not as cute as mine, but still workable.
Furrowing my brows, I scan the hallway to try to figure out what the hell is going on. It's only when a soft snore leaves her mouth that I rest my hand on my hip.
"What is wrong with you?" I finally question.
The woman jumps up with a snort before removing her sunglasses to try to play it off, "Nothing. I'm great."
Is this girl . . . hungover?
I can't help the laughter that bubbles out of my throat at the aspect of this woman I absolutely despise going to a business meeting with me to meet our newest client. It's just downright hilarious.
How I'm more put together than her with the night I've had? I have no idea. Maybe mystery man fucked all the sangrias out of me.
She winces and begins to massage her temples, "Please, shut up." Her accent is even thicker than last night. I'm not even sure how I missed this though. Well, she was more annoying than usual last night. That, and she might've consumed more alcohol after she got back up to her room.
Not that I care.
"How are you gonna get through this meeting, Laurie?" I question, folding my arms across my chest, "It starts in -" I check my watch, " - ten minutes."
"Shh." She pushes a finger forward, almost touching my glossed lips. I lean back and swat her hand away. The caucasity. "I'll be fine." Just as she finishes her reassurance, she hunches forward and gags. I have never jumped so far so fast in my life. I'd rather have her not throw up on my red bottoms.
"Yeah, no." I deadpan, "Your ass is definitely not going to that meeting. I'm not about to adult-sit a grown-ass woman or have you throw up on our client. Take your ass back into your room and do whatever you gotta do to not look like this." I don't give her the chance to argue before turning her around and pushing her towards her door.
I hold back a snicker as she runs into it but I give her time to hold her card to the sensor and step in. I don't follow her in because why would I?
With that out of the way, I head towards the elevator and press the button for the first floor. In the file Roxanne gave us while we were still in New York, she explained that we would be meeting Mr. Romano at the breakfast bar in the hotel (well, more by the beach than anything) so he could give us a rundown on what he plans to do, business-wise.
Honestly, I'm excited. I know I talk all this shit about my job being boring, but when it comes down to it, I actually enjoy it. As I said before, I'm good at my job, and that can only happen if I like it. Being sent to help out different clients just brings out my creative juices in a sense.
The elevator dings to signify that I've reached the main floor. Greeting those that are entering the lift, I send them a smile and exit the small area, my feet hitting the tiled floor.
As soon as I step outside towards the breakfast bar, I'm hit with the beautiful sea breeze that does nothing but induces a serious case of homesickness. Breathing it in, I approach the reception area where a woman dressed in a neat dark red shirt is standing, minding her business.
Taking in the Grand Palace tag on her shirt, I correctly assume that she's the hostess, her name being Camila.
"Hi," I greet her with a wide smile.
"Hola. ¿Cómo está?" She greets, matching my smile with one of her own.
"Muy bien, gracias. Y tú?"
"Muy bien." She tilts her head, "Do you have a reservation?"
I nod, "Yes. It's supposed to be under Romano."
Camila looks down at the tablet in front of her for a couple of seconds, "What's your name?"
"Monique Harper."
She raises an eyebrow, "It says you're supposed to have a Laurie Hill with you?" Saw that coming.
"Yeah, she's not able to make it, unfortunately." Very fortunate, actually. Don't have to endure the better part of an hour of her acting stupid.
"Alright, no problemo. Mr. Romano has just arrived, by the way, so he hasn't been waiting long." She grabs a menu from the stand and sends me a smile, "Follow me."
I oblige and follow behind her, taking in my surroundings of people seated along the beach, munching away on their early morning breakfast and whatnot. Calming waves crash against the beachfront, soaking the sand below it. I was so caught up in my staring that I didn't notice when Camila stopped walking.
Fortunately, I stop myself before I can bump into her.
"Mr. Romano, your guest, Ms. Harper, is here."
At the sound of his name, I make the grave mistake of looking up. Meeting those intense brown eyes, I am thrust back into memories of last night in which he was thrusting into me.
Sitting in the seat of the man I'm supposed to work for is Mystery Man, the man I called Daddy most of the night, the man who made me come more times than I could count, the man whose tongue I came on.
He turns to the hostess for a moment and sends her a charming smile, "Thank you, Cami."
What have I gotten myself into?
mystery man is matteo — ✨who coulda thunk it✨ lmfaoooo no but fr 💀
im deadass thinking bout giving laurie a stomach bug 🤞🏽 she deserves 🧚🏾♂️