Their clothes formed a trail from the doorway to the bed.

  The bedroom was enormous and impeccably decorated. Cream walls rose to a coffered ceiling painted in soft white. The king-sized bed dominated the space. Soft white sheets and the thick comforter had been kicked to the end of the mattress. Matching nightstands flanked them. Crystal lamps were the only thing that dotted the surface.

  The windows stretched nearly floor to ceiling, gauze curtains filtering the afternoon light into the room. A single armchair sat in the corner. His jeans had landed on his arm.

  Morthisal lay in bed, Yvette's platinum hair spread across his chest. He traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder with his fingertips. They'd been in bed for several hours, and his stomach was starting to grumble for food. It could wait.

  "This mattress is incredible," he murmured.

  Yvette shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. "Better than the Hollywood Hacienda?"

  "Much."

  She laughed softly and settled back against him. "I missed this."

  "As did I," Morthisal said honestly.

  They fell into comfortable silence. Minutes passed. The late-afternoon sun filtered through the curtains. Soft shadows fell around the bedroom.

  Morthisal had not mentioned his bit of good news, even though it hung out in the back of his mind. The combination of Yvette and the new part had competed for attention, but this lovely woman had won the contest. He turned to her and said, "Something extraordinary has happened."

  "More than one extraordinary thing just happened in this bed." Yvette grinned at him.

  Morthisal chuckled at her innuendo.

  "I have earned the role in The Last Bookshop starring opposite Serena Winters," Morthisal proudly stated.

  Yvette sat straight up. "What!? You did! Congratulations!"

  She leaned down and kissed him hard, then pulled back with a grin. "When did you find out?"

  "This afternoon. Serena sent a message."

  "And you waited until now to tell me?"

  "I, er…" Morthisal glanced down at her naked body.

  "Oh. I see." Yvette laughed. Then her smile fell. "Did you…you know. Use that, I mean, the um…the thing to help?"

  Morthisal wasn't sure how to tell her that he'd used it on himself. He skated the subject instead. "None of those in the film fell under my influence. I can assure you. This role was earned."

  Yvette grinned, then looked away.

  "You do not believe me."

  "No. I believe you. There's something I want to talk about, but…"

  Her words trailed off as something clanged in the other room. Then there was a clatter of pots.

  Morthisal turned to Yvette. "The chef?"

  "They needed the menu for the night, and I didn't have time to ask you. I hope I made good selections. Let's eat first, then I'll tell you what's on my mind."

  Morthisal nodded. "I am famished, and I doubt my stomach will protest."

  "Appetizers should be ready. Shall we?"

  Morthisal's eyes lingered on Yvette's form as she sat up and swung her legs over the bed. They dressed slowly, pulling on robes the hotel had provided.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  They moved to the living area and settled on the couch. Yvette curled against him, her head on his shoulder.

  A quiet knock on the door to the room sounded. The kitchen door opened slightly. A man in his forties glanced in and smiled at Morthisal and Yvette. He emerged, wearing chef's whites and a black apron. He had salt-and-pepper hair and moved with practiced efficiency.

  "Good evening. I'm Chef Mario." He gestured toward the dining table, already set with white linens and polished silverware. "Tonight we're doing elevated comfort food. Pan-seared chicken breasts with a lemon-herb butter sauce, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, and honey-glazed carrots. I also prepared a Caesar salad with house-made dressing and fresh parmesan."

  Morthisal's attention fixed on the salad. Large, crisp romaine leaves. Shaved parmesan. Golden croutons. His diet plan could survive this meal, especially with chicken breast.

  "Before the main course, I have some appetizers." Chef Mario produced a platter. "Bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with goat cheese, crispy Brussels sprouts with balsamic reduction, and mini crab cakes with remoulade sauce."

  He set the platter on the coffee table between them.

  "The chicken will be ready in about ten minutes."

  "This looks amazing. Thank you, Chef Mario."

  "It is my pleasure, Ms. Sterling. If you require anything else with your meal, I will make sure it is brought here."

  Chef Mario disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Morthisal reached for a bacon-wrapped date. The combination of sweet, salty, and tangy was heavenly in his mouth. Yvette took a crab cake and 'mm'd' with approval.

  "These are dangerous," she said.

  They sampled each appetizer. The Brussels sprouts had a satisfying crunch. The crab cakes were perfectly seasoned and filled with more crab than any other ingredient.

  Chef Mario returned with two glasses of water, then excused himself. "Would you like anything else to drink?"

  "A bottle of champagne would be nice. Make it something special."

  Chef Mario nodded once. "I have just the thing in mind. I'll bring out the main course shortly."

  They moved to the dining table, which could seat six, and sat beside each other, moving silverware and napkins to accommodate their positions. Morthisal and Yvette spoke quietly. He asked what she had asked to talk to him about, but she was coy and told him to wait until the chef was gone.

  Moments later, the champagne was delivered by another staffer. The woman placed the bucket on the table and inquired if they needed anything else. Yvette shook her head.

  The chef emerged once more with several large plates. The chicken breasts had been sliced and fanned across one, while the second contained a mound of glazed carrots. He went back to the kitchen and brought a selection of potatoes, two baked and split, and a pile of mashed potatoes, the top browned, with a large dollop of butter melting around them. His third trip resulted in sautéed green beans and seared asparagus, both topped with lobster. Morthisal practically drooled at the sight.

  "Enjoy," Chef Mario said, then gathered his things and left through the side entrance.

  "Thank you, chef. Would you mind excusing yourself for half an hour while we eat?"

  Chef Mario placed his right arm under his chest and gave a slight bow, then left.

  Morthisal cut into the chicken. It was tender, juicy, and the lemon-herb butter complemented the meat. He turned his attention to the salad, loading his fork with romaine and parmesan. The dressing was sharp and tart, but creamy and smooth. Everything on the table was a delight.

  "Good?" She asked.

  "Wonderful, Yvette. Just wonderful. Thank you for ordering such a lovely meal."

  She waved her hand dismally in front of her face before reaching for the champagne. "I'm glad you like it."

  Yvette poured champagne into two flutes. Bubbles rose in steady streams.

  "To your new role," she said, raising her glass.

  "To us."

  They clinked glasses and drank. The champagne was dry and crisp.

  They ate and talked about inconsequential things. The weather in Singapore. A funny email Yvette's assistant had sent. The strange wallpaper pattern in Morthisal's hotel room.

  Yvette laughed at his impression of Kenadee's workout enthusiasm. Morthisal smiled at her story about a board member who'd fallen asleep during a presentation.

  As Morthisal set down his fork, Yvette's expression shifted. The lightness faded from her face.

  "Remember when I said I needed to ask you something?" she said.

  "Of course."

  "It's business-related." She paused. "I want you to know this isn't the only reason I came here. I wanted to see you. I did. But I was able to set up a meeting for Sunday at this bungalow."

  Morthisal leaned back in his chair. "What kind of a meeting?"

  "With Philip Brennan? My father's half-brother?"

  "The one challenging the will."

  "Yes." Yvette refilled her champagne flute but didn't drink. "He's being difficult. More difficult than I expected. I need someone who can... persuade him to drop the lawsuit."

  "You want me to use my abilities."

  "Yes."

  Morthisal studied her face. No hesitation. No guilt. Just determination.

  "I hope you don't think I'm using you," Yvette continued. "Because I'm not. I came here to see you. To be with you. But this opportunity presented itself, and I thought…"

  "I am delighted you asked," Morthisal interrupted. "You need not explain any more."

  Yvette blinked. "You are?"Relief flooded Yvette's features. She smiled, leaned to the side, and kissed him.

  "Thank you."

  "I very much look forward to meeting this Philip Brennan," Morthisal said with a wicked grin. "Those who dare cross my girlfriend shall find no succor from my wrath."

  Yvette laughed. "That's downright biblical. Was that line from Dark Realms?"

  Morthisal nodded.

  "Girlfriend, huh. Presumptuous much?" Yvette said.

  "Am I?"

  Yvette gently shook her head. "No. Not presumptuous at all."

  She leaned into Morthisal. He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.