Wait For Me: Hotel D, #8

By Nika Stone

I cut my rival out of my life. This time, he's determined to stitch himself into my heart…

 

Years ago, I beat Alex Brennan in court, never imagining that it would lead him to ask me out. At the time I ran scared — but a lot's changed since then. These days, I've traded my legal briefs for designing luxurious lingerie, and I'm brave enough to give the sexy hotshot a chance.

 

Despite his tough reputation, I discover a tender side of him that weaves its way into my heart before I even realize it. Falling for my former rival is far too easy, and much too risky. No matter how expertly he seduces me, I can't let myself get tangled up in a legal world that literally broke me.

 

It took us two years to find each other — but only moments to fall apart. Can we find a way to stitch our fragile hearts together, or will our love unravel at the seams?

 

Wait For Me is the eighth book in the Hotel D series. These short, steamy stories feature mature couples who know what they want, in the bedroom and out! Each book in the series can be read as a standalone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nika Stone
• Release date: Mar 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223970514

Book preview

Tori

Y our honor, I’m sorry to be so blunt, but opposing counsel’s statement has no basis. Frankly, he’s wasting the court’s time.

The judge and I both look at my opponent. Alex Brennan’s face is calm, but an alarming shade of pink is rising up the back of his neck. He’s pissed and trying to not to let it show.

Honestly, I’m surprised he even took this case. He doesn’t usually slum it down here in the trenches of landlord/ tenant law with us peasants. His clients are the sort who hire white shoe law firms and wipe their asses with $100 bills. He must be doing a favor for a friend.

Okay, Ms. Lewis. I’ll decide that for myself, thank you. Judge Thompson is just shy of an eye roll. He’s not gonna get on my ass for trash talking, but I need to dial it back. No reason to aggravate him.

Ms. Lewis’s client owes mine several months’ back rent. The man looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. I don’t see how it’s a waste of time for us to try obtaining what’s owed.

My client is more than willing to pay — which your client knows, because their agent verbally represented that we were able to make an arrangement. They said, and I quote that ‘we’ll work something out, don’t worry about all of it right now.’ If that doesn’t mean that my client is entitled to extra time, I don’t know what does.

Is that true, Mr. Brennan?

That’s… that’s not my understanding, your honor. His slow blink is the only sign of panic.

I bat my eyes at him. Would you like me to send you the email, Mr. Brennan? Although I’m sure it’s in your client file…

If I could have a moment to confirm, Your Honor?

Go on. I need to move this docket along. The judge looks irritated. I hold back a smile. Check back in after you’ve conferred, please. Come with a deal.

Brennan and I walk through the giant oak doors into the overheated yet freezing marble hallway outside Courtroom 4. He’s on the phone to his client almost before the door shuts. A single frown line disturbs his normally placid face. This time, not only do I give him a cheerful smile, I add a saucy wave to the mix.

A second frown line joins the first.

Oh, he is super pissed.

Idly, I note that his fury in no way detracts from his hotness. I’d die before admitting it, but Alex Brennan is shockingly good looking. He’s fit, but not overly muscled. Tall. Smells delicious. He’s also got thick blond hair, caramel-colored eyes, a strong jawline, and a bottom lip I want to bite.

And most importantly? I’ve never seen him smile in the five years I’ve known him. Not once. That emotional unavailability thing? It’s like catnip, and my kitty is desperate for a hit.

I want to see him smile. Over drinks, perhaps. He’d tell me all about how everyone deserves zealous defense, and how his work actually helps to keep prices down for his client’s customers, etc, etc. He’d try to convince me to give up this life fighting for the little guy and head over to the soul-destroying insurance defense side instead. Maybe I’d even consider it, on that imaginary date.

But not today.

Today, I’m going to kick his ass.

Brennan ends his phone call and walks back towards me. I smooth my skirt. Button my blazer and fold my arms across my chest. Not a hair out of place. I want to look as perfect as possible when he acknowledges that I’ve won.

Ms. Lewis. His voice is gravel. It seems you have the upper hand. What’s it going to take—

I’m sorry, just a moment, I say, making a show of pulling out my phone. Would you mind repeating that, Brennan? I’m going to need audio of this moment so I can play it to myself on repeat as I fall asleep at night. Really can’t imagine anything more soothing.

Despite his best efforts, the corner of his mouth quirks up. It’s so fast I almost think I imagined it, except I can tell he’s having trouble keeping a straight face. I’m absurdly pleased by this.

I’m sure it’s a thrill to be your lullaby, but I’ll pass. What kind of deal can we work out?

Alex bargains strategically, but we both know I’ve got him exactly where I want him. In the end, it’s a wash: my client gets extra time to catch up and move out, his client gets control of the property without having to evict. We take it back to the judge, who approves our plan and enters the order quickly. Done and dusted.

The ink is barely dry on the agreement when I blow through the courtroom doors. I’m halfway down the carved oak staircase when I hear that distinctive voice again.

Ms. Lewis. Alex’s long strides close the distance between the two of us in no time.

I’m confused. I thought we resolved all the issues in this case. No, I’m sure we did. I stop, turning to lean against the baluster.

Did you need something else, Mr. Brennan? I think my tone is just right. A little arrogant, a little genuine curiosity. My heart, for some reason, is racing.

Need? That’s an interesting question. He licks his lips. I want to do the same.

I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say need, he continues. Want, on the other hand. That’s a different matter.

I forget to breathe. Is he flir —? Oh, yes. He so is.

Yes. I can safely say I want. That look in his eyes, like I’m the last lick of ice cream on the cone — it’s a flashing neon sign. My mouth goes dry.

Would you have dinner with me?

I want to say yes. To embark upon an adventure with this man. I can see it now: every other week, we get together for dinner, a quick screw, casual conversation about our careers and clients as we strategize our way up the ladder. Lather, rinse, repeat. Eventually, if we’re compatible, and the sex doesn’t suck, he proposes.

Then there’s the expensive wedding and someone’s parents start in on the subject of babies. He wants four;