Hoax Husband - Candice M. Wright Page 0,1

my eyes and mentally count to ten. “Sorry, sir, I’ll get right on that for you.” I offer him a weak smile and stand, placing my laptop on my chair before scurrying through the room and out the door.

I make my way across the lobby and into the restaurant, signaling the pretty bartender at the bar.

“What can I get you, miss?” she asks in an accented voice I can’t place.

“A pitcher of iced water, please, with a twist of lemon.”

She nods and busies herself with my request while I look around the room.

It's modern and upscale, naturally. Only the best will do for Graham Asshole Morgan.

The walls are dark wood paneling, the curtains a thick damask of red velvet and gold brocade. The same materials are echoed on the sumptuous wing-backed chairs and the seats of the dark wood stools that line the bar.

All the tables and bar match the wood-paneled walls, and although everything is on the dark end of the scale, the room is bright and warm thanks to the two dazzling chandeliers that light it from above.

“Your water, miss.”

I turn at the sound of the bartender's voice and offer her a grateful smile before thanking her and heading back to the conference room.

When I get there, I find the doors locked and a sign hung upon them stating that admittance would not be granted now that the meeting is in session.

“Fuck,” I swear, just knowing the reaming I’ll get for this later.

With nothing I can do about it, I take the pitcher back to the bar and decide to head up to my room. That’s when it dawns on me that my laptop bag with my keycard and phone is still inside the conference room.

“And isn’t that just the icing on the freaking cake,” I mutter, plonking myself down on one of the barstools.

“Something wrong?” the bartender asks, eyeing the water.

“No, I’ve just found myself locked out of a meeting I was supposed to be in, and I can’t get into my room because my stuff is still inside the conference room.”

“Damn, that sucks. Do you want me to call the front desk and get you a spare keycard?”

I’m so used to spending my days surrounded by vipers that it's nice to know there are still some kind people out there.

“You know what? I think I’ll have a drink and wait for the meeting to finish. Then I can collect my stuff without causing a fuss.”

“It's no problem if you change your mind, but I won't say no to some company before it gets busy. My name is Gina. What’s your poison for the evening? A cocktail, maybe?”

“I’m Linda,” I smile. “It's nice to meet you. I’ll take a beer, please, whatever you have on tap is fine.”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart.” She smiles and disappears down the other end of the bar when someone signals her, so I sit quietly and wait until she returns with my ice-cold beer in her hand.

“Thanks, Gina, can I charge it to my room, please?”

“Sure thing.”

“Ha—” My words are cut off when a man steps up beside me and snags Gina’s attention.

“Is there any way I can get into the conference room? I know I’m late, but it's important.” He bats his eyes at Gina, but she seems immune to his charms.

“No can do, I’m afraid. Once it's locked, there is no going inside until after it's finished. I don’t have the keycard for it, regardless. Drink?” she offers, almost as an apology.

“Fuck!” he grunts, dropping into the seat beside mine before nodding at Gina and answering her. “Whiskey, neat. In fact, make it a double.” He pulls his phone from his crisp black Armani suit jacket and focuses on that, effectively shutting out the rest of the room and the people in it.

Well, okay then. I guess I’m not the only one having a bad day.

I sip my beer, acutely aware of the man beside me, checking him out in the mirror that lines the wall behind the bar.

He has tousled dark blond hair that looks like he has run frustrated fingers through it for the best part of his day. Slightly longer on top and short at the sides his hair is a style not usually seen on suit-wearing businessmen, but rather on a leather jacket and jeans wearing, Harley riding, hot as fuck—

Okay, I take a big swig of beer and swallow it down while I corral my wayward thoughts and vow to stop watching