Page 5 of Princessa
Chapter 5
“…and honestly, I’m not too sure about the state of those furry bundles of joy which, in my opinion, are just as magical as unicorns…”
I grabbed my cell phone from off the café table and opened my favorite app. See, while I loved my assistant Emma who incidentally played a crucial role in helping me ease into my new duties at RRF—Royale Resort France—the woman spent way too much time talking about alpacas.
Seriously. Al. Pa. Cas.
Other than cutting my ears off, I needed to find something to tune “Alpaca Talk” out before my head exploded. Scrolling Instagram was the most viable choice.
“…true, there are a ton of alpaca farms popping up where I’m from in California and all over the world, but with global warming”—She paused mid-sentence, reaching over to my side of the table, mouth agape, giving my arm a gentle squeeze—“Is that? No, it can’t be. Wait…isthat him?” she squeaked, looking like she’d just spotted Thor wearing an alpaca suit.
“Is that who?” I turned my head, following the direction of her starry-eyed gaze.
“Oh, never mind.” She released her grip from my arm with a sigh. “For a minute there, I thought for sure my eyes spied Shawn Mendes, especially since rumor has it he’s hiding out somewhere in France, recording a new album.”
Since the week I’d arrived at the resort, it became apparent celebrity sightings were a regular occurrence. Big names often chose RRF to be their hideaway go-to, a place to lay low when they didn’t want all the paparazzi buzz St. Tropez resorts attracted. However, the alpaca-obsessed blonde seemed to have hourly star sightings that inevitably ended up being false alarms. Given she was from California—a place typically littered with celebs—I sort of expected her not to be so groupie-like all the damn time. But who was I kidding? The woman almost stopped breathing the first day she met me, the mere celebutante that I was back then. Emma was also like having my personal little celebrity gossip reporter, having supposed firsthand information on all the stars she believed she’d spotted. Other than being crazy about alpacas, she was actually pretty entertaining.
“Right,” I said, grabbing my planner. “Lunch break’s over. We should probably head down to the office to prepare for our tasting meeting with the soon-to-be bride and groom.” My chair scraped the floor as I got to my feet, and Emma followed suit after taking one last slurp of her soda. “Were you able to get the bakery to prepare samples of our three most popular flavors?”
Part of my responsibility in my new role as Events Coordinator was to increase revenue by adding more events to the roster. Considering it had been over a year since the resort’s last event, convincing clients RRF was the quintessential soirée destination didn’t come as easy as I’d hoped. But, by some stroke of luck, we’d secured a last-minute wedding for a high-profile couple.
“Sure did,” Emma replied, padding close behind me as the two of us made our way to the elevators. “But, I feel like I should warn you: besides wanting to secure the Grande Ballroom and invite all resort guests to the wedding after-party, the bride and groom mentioned something about tigers.”
“Tigers?”
“Mm-hmm,” she huffed out, scurrying to catch up with my fast pace. “Evidently, tigers are an integral part of the couple’s ceremony.”
“Um, this is Royale Resort France, not some place in Las Vegas. We don’t do tigers.”
Of course, during the elevator ride, Emma chewed more of my ear off about—you guessed it—her favorite furry animal. By the time we reached our floor, I swear my chest heaved, suffocating in a sea of alpacas.Please, stop.
When the elevator doors eased open, I charged out as if my life depended on it, landing smack into what felt like a man made of steel.
“Whoa there,” a low, husky voice rumbled. “Shouldn’t you slow down before someone gets hurt?”
For a good ten, okay fine, maybe it was more like twenty seconds, I remained face smashed against a set of glistened pectorals, inhaling the most delicious concoction of masculine musk, coconut sun-tan lotion, and chlorine. Believe me, I didn’t mean to linger so long, but holy heck, Man of Steel’s scent, was core-tingling nirvana.
Blinking up, I murmured, “Ga…” because once my eyes caught a glimpse of his face: its chiseled jawline splashed with sexy stubble, capable of making any right-minded woman want to reach up and stroke; forget-me-not blue eyes framed with dark lashes, even the best mascara couldn’t mimic; and a smirk saucy enough to bottle and sell on Amazon… Well, ladies and gentlemen, I was suddenly graced with the tongue of a one-year-old, maybe even an intoxicated one-year-old because I most certainly felt drunk.
Armed with a heady gaze that was definitely making out with mine, Man of Steel snickered with a “Ga?” then wrapped his manly hands around my arms, helping me regain my footing. I’m not ashamed to admit, that subtle touch sent a jolt of euphoria through my veins. I’m telling you, the hunk, who stood at least six-foot-two compared to my five-foot-five, personified everything there was about tall, dark, and studmuffin.
Oh, my god.Studmuffin?
Really?
Wonderful. I’d become an inebriated one-year-old with Hallmark movie-rated vocabulary.
After I slowly pulled away from his grip and caught sight of the ink splayed across his magnanimous chest, it didn’t help matters when the tattoo practically cried out,lick me.
“Um, Ms. Royale?” Queen of Alpaca’s cautionary tone, accompanied with gum popping, slayed my euphoric haze. “This, uh, isn’t even our floor.”
The realization hit me like a smack to the face.
“Oh…” Cheeks flaming, I took a couple of steps back until my feet planted themselves onto the elevator floor. Obviously, I’d burst out of the elevator, without bothering to notice we were on the first floor, instead of the Mezzanine level below where the offices were. Which explained why Man of Steel’s chest was slightly wet, he smelled of chlorine, and why a towel hung loosely around his shoulders. One of RRF’s spa pools was on the first floor. “Well, I guess we should be getting on to the floor below then, Emma.” I rolled my shoulders and lifted my chin, trying to become the refined Arabella instead of the babbling one. “So sorry I bumped into you, Man of…” I bit down on my lip, forbidding my mouth to finish it off with,Steel. “…sir.”What the hell?I so wanted to slice my stupid tongue off.
“Man of…sir?” he repeated with that sex-in-a-bottle smirk. I mean, the guy was beautiful, but in my experience, men who looked that yummy were either gay or already taken. With that in mind, I pressed the Mezzanine button, cocked my head, blinked at the Adonis peering back at me, then, as the doors crawled closed, mentally kissed him and his delicious-looking tattoo goodbye.
“Well, that was interesting.” Emma leaned against the elevator wall, arms folded across her chest, an amused gleam in her eyes.
