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And then he pulled away, giving me a light slap on the ass. “Now go shower and change. You stink.”

I couldn’t stop grinning as I spun around and dashed into the bathroom.

“STAND UP STRAIGHT,” Michael scolded, tossing his keys to the valet.

I followed him to Hunter-Bailey’s stairs, immediately squaring my shoulders and clutching my forest green duffel bag over my shoulder.

“Are you sure this is going to be okay?” I asked, facing him.

He reached behind my head and grabbed the black hood of the over-sized sweatshirt he’d put on me, pulling it over my hair.

“Who’s going to stop us?” he shot back.

I twisted my lips to the side as he tucked my long hair inside the hood.

Who’s going to stop us? Would I ever learn to retort with that when I had doubts? No, because I was a worrier.

“Well, what if they find out I’m a woman?” I pressed, my skin tingling as his hands grazed my face.

“Then smile and own it,” he replied. “The only way we find out what we’re capable of is by getting into a little trouble.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Sometimes getting into trouble can get you into a lot of trouble. Just ask Kai and Will.”

He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Are you planning to beat up any cops or sleep with underage girls?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Come on.” He took my hand, pulling me up the stairs.

Opening the door, he entered, letting me follow, and I kept my head down, hearing glasses clink and boisterous laughter coming from the dining room.

The pungent scent of cigars drifted out, assaulting my nostrils, so I inhaled short, shallow breaths.

Michael laid a hand on my back, guiding me toward the stairs.

“Mr. Crist?” a male voice called, and we stopped.

My heart jumped in my chest, but I didn’t turn around.

“Policy requires that everyone check in, sir,” the man said. It must’ve been one of the attendants.

“This is William Grayson III,” Michael answered, his voice calm and confident.

I could feel the man’s eyes on my back.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat and answered, “Of course, sir.”

Relief swept over me, but I knew he knew. How could he not? If he knew Will at all, he would know I was several inches shorter and eighty pounds of muscle too small.

But he wouldn’t challenge a member. If Michael said I was Will, then I was Will.

“Come on.” Michael nudged my back, sending me up the staircase.

I tightened my grasp on my bag and jogged up the stairs, hearing footfalls above me and chatter coming from the rooms we passed as he led me down the hall.

“Follow close,” he told me over his shoulder. “Don’t look up.”

I kept my eyes down and my head bowed, simply watching the back of his shoes as I shadowed him down the hallway. We walked through a door and across another room.


Tags: Penelope Douglas Devil's Night Romance