theprincess239
It was past midnight when the elevator doors slid open and out stepped Mr. Penthouse himself-barefoot, in sweatpants and a white T-shirt, somehow looking like a magazine cover. He leaned on the counter, his eyes fixed on me.
"I need room service," he said.
"You could've just called," I replied, arching a brow.
"I wanted to see you."
That earned him a pause and a smirk from me. "What exactly do you want to order?"
"Something sweet."he said
"We have chocolate cake, cheesecake..."
"You," he interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. "Dinner. With me."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Sorry, sir, we're fresh out of that on the menu."
He slid a hundred-dollar bill across the desk. "Then I'll place a special request."
"Bribing hotel staff is highly unprofessional."
"And yet," his lips curved, "you're smiling."