Maid for the Beast

1 Angela Kaur, 5 Star Hotel, Secret Location, Miami, Florida I rolled the cart down the hall, steering it to the side and pausing as two women passed. Their heads were bent close, and the two whispered and laughed to each other. “I’m going to be the one to let that beast out,” I heard one say. The other giggled, then replied, “You mean that beast in his pants.” They didn’t even look my way. To them, I was invisible. When compared to them, I was. Their hair was done, makeup perfect. Cute outfits. Even cuter shoes. I had on utilitarian black sneakers with more insole than fashion sense. They were as drab as the black skirt and white blouse of the uniform I wore. I pushed on down the hall and stopped at the Presidential Suite, the toilet bowl brush handle clacking against the side of the bucket it was in, hidden beneath the thick fabric on my housekeeping cart. Folded towels towered on the top, and I could barely see over it. Bad luck of being five feet nothing. I’d been cleaning since early this morning, and the suite was the last—and biggest—room. Then I’d be done for the day. I needed to go home, feed Oscar—before he destroyed another pair of my shoes—and try to figure out how I was going to afford to take two classes next semester and pay rent on my newish apartment while working fewer hours. Work less, spend more. That seemed to be my motto lately. Sighing, I tugged the polyester collar away from my neck, then knocked on the door. Waited. I knocked again, then called, “Housekeeping!” The elevator chimed, and I turned to see two more pretty women step out. This was the floor where all the staff and participants of the Bachelor Beast show were being pampered and coached on their appearances. Not that these women needed any help with looking fabulous. I did not envy them. The competition was fierce, and I had no interest in trying to make some i***t man fall in love with me. Been there. Done that. And what a damn disaster. This would be even worse. Twenty-four stunning contestants vying for one hulking alien from Atlan… and the beast in his pants. And doing it in front of a live television audience? No freaking way, thank you. I didn’t care how smoking hot the alien bachelor might be. Speaking of sexy bachelors, the door I knocked on once more belonged to the hulking alien from Atlan, here to find his bride. He, along with the ladies, been here for a few days, but today was my first shift cleaning on the executive level since their arrival. I gave one last knock, called out, then pulled the universal key card from my pocket and slipped it into the lock. The little light turned green, and I pushed the door open. “Housekeeping,” I called one last time. I’d been in the suite to clean before—I’d worked at the hotel for three years—but had forgotten how large it was. There were two bedrooms off each side of a large living area that had a dining table and a small kitchen. Marble floors and even a fireplace made it nicer than any house I’d been in. Heck, my entire apartment could probably fit in one of the opulent bathrooms. The main room was neat, as if no one had even moved the TV remote on the coffee table. I sighed, pleased to know it wouldn’t be a miserable cleaning job. With both bedroom doors closed, I couldn’t be too sure. The bathrooms were usually the biggest mess, and this suite had two. With one of the suite’s rooms just needing vacuuming, I could clock out on time today and get off my feet. Take a shower so I didn’t smell like cleaning products. I went out to the cart, grabbed the usual stack of fresh towels and mini-soaps, then returned, the door clicking shut behind me. I shivered. The air conditioner must be set to the lowest setting. I had to assume the Atlan didn’t like Florida heat. Picking the bedroom on the right to tackle first, I opened the door and stopped in my tracks. My mouth dropped to the floor and so did the little soaps as they slipped off the top of the towels I held. I’d interrupted guests before and offered a quiet murmur of apology and backed out. Businessmen sprawled in their underwear, watching TV and eating from the minibar. Couples going at it who never even broke stride at my disturbance. But this guest? Holy. Hell. I’d seen the Bachelor Beast show. What woman would forget how the gorgeous Wulf had found his mate offstage, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her off to a dressing room. To have s*x. Insane Atlan beast s*x. It had been romantic and hot as hell. Oh, the network couldn’t show the actual going at it part, but Chet Bosworth had certainly filled in the blanks with suggestive commentary. Wulf had been huge. Hulking. Hot. Dominant. Wickedly possessive. Caring. All the adjectives that made every woman’s ovaries pop out an egg or two. But this guy? This Atlan? Wow. I’d seen the promos for the second season of the show and Braun, the next bachelor. Those Atlans had fantastic genetics, because the photos and video clips didn’t do him justice. Not one little bit. Heck, there wasn’t anything little on him. I knew that for fact because he’d just come out of the bathroom—ducking his head to fit through the doorway and turning his shoulders because they were just that broad—backlit by the vanity lights and surrounded by steam that had escaped the opulent room. In a towel. And just a towel. An Earth-sized towel. On an Atlan body. I was very familiar with the large bath sheets. I folded and stacked them my entire shift. But while this one made it around his waist, the material barely tucked in and left his thigh exposed with a huge slit. And that thigh? It was probably as big as my waist. It was like a human guy wrapping a dish towel about him. Droplets of water slid down Braun’s torso, and I watched their path. My mouth watered to lick them up. Heat flared and I panicked, realizing I was frozen like a statue and ogling a guest. A seven-foot-tall, gorgeous guest. Who was staring right back. He raised one hand and pushed his wet hair back from his face as his dark gaze raked over me. I swallowed, then dashed to the bed, set the towels on it, now trying to look anywhere but at him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb. A few towels.” Stepping back, I stepped on one of the little soaps, the wrapper startling me, and I jumped. He moved then. Fast. Too fast for someone his size, and grabbed my elbow. “Careful.” His voice was deep and reverberated through me. His touch was gentle, the heat from his fingers seeping through my uniform. I had to tilt my head so far back to look up at him that I felt tiny. Flustered now, I stepped back again, then bent down to grab the soaps I’d dropped. A growl rumbled through him, making me pop right back up again. His brow was furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and I’d just shoved my ass in his face. I’d made him angry. What an i***t. “I’m so sorry.” Great. I’d made the star of the Bachelor Beast upset. I was going to get fired for s****l harassment, and I couldn’t let that happen. Sure, being a maid wasn’t my dream job, but it paid the bills and would pay for my last two semesters of nursing school. I turned to face him again, then backed up as if retreating after curtseying to the queen. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, sir. I will step outside. Please notify the front desk when you are ready to have your room cleaned.” I backed up again. He stepped toward me. I backed up once more in the direction of the suite’s entry door. “Who are you?” he asked. I couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m the maid.” “A maid,” he said as if the word maid wasn’t in his language. I was mortified at how I’d stared at him. Mostly naked. But not looking him in the eye meant I took in his muscular chest, the abs of epic steel. He had a dusting of golden hair between the flat disks of his n*****s that tapered into a triangle to his navel, then to a thin line that disappeared beneath the towel and I could only imagine surrounded his— Big c**k. My eyes widened as I saw the thick outline of it pressing against the towel… and lifting it. Another growl ripped from him, and it startled me out of my stupor. Again. “You clean for guests of the Bachelor Beast program?” I gave an efficient nod. “And other rooms.” “I do not need you to do such tasks for me.” I nodded again, feeling more like a bobble doll by the minute. “Okay. Fresh towels are on your bed. Call down to the front desk if you need anything else.” I had my hand on the knob. “Where are you going?” I frowned, looked up—way up—into his light eyes. “You said you didn’t need me to clean your room.” “That is correct. What is your name?” I watched as his gaze raked over my body. I thought of the two ladies I’d walked past earlier, the women who had talked about Braun so crudely. He’d be attracted to either one of them. I wasn’t ashamed of my work, but there were moments when I didn’t want to be invisible, didn’t want to clean up other people’s messes. Didn’t want to be in the polyester uniform that was not styled for my round, petite physique. There wasn’t a pastry I didn’t like, and no matter how much exercise I tried—which wasn’t much since my legs were short and my boobs needed two sports bras—I wasn’t losing weight. He studied my shoes, my legs below the black skirt, the black button-down top. My name tag, which made me remember his question. I tapped the plastic pin above my left breast. “I apologize again.” I fled then, realizing I was in big, big trouble. I tossed the soaps I’d just remembered I was holding onto the dining table and took off. Abandoning my housekeeping cart, I bolted for the service elevator at the far end of the hall. Fortunately there was no one around. “Wait!” the deep voice boomed. He was following me. Oh God, this was bad. He was the most VIP of VIPs staying at the hotel. How could I have angered someone so special he wasn’t even from Earth? I’d get down to the housekeeping area in the basement and beg one of my coworkers to claim my cart. I pushed the call button. “Wait!” Braun said again, this time much closer. “Why are you running away?” I spun about, tears in my eyes. I couldn’t fight them. He was gorgeous. I was nothing. I’d made him angry. God, I’d never had a guest chase me down before. “I caught you coming out of the shower. I’m sorry for invading your privacy.” “How do you invade privacy? My English is not strong, but that is confusing.” I frowned. “Mr. Braun, I will have the head of housekeeping come to your room and ensure you are well satisfied with the hotel’s service.” He looked me over again. “I am well satisfied with my maid, I assure you. If you remain, you can be satisfied as well.” I blushed, my mind going right to the gutter. Did he mean what I thought? Satisfied? I closed my eyes and fought to hold back the shiver that raced up and down my spine, made my n*****s pebble like twin, diamond-hard peaks. The elevator dinged, thank God. I shook my head. “I must go.” “No.” No? I heard the doors open behind me, and I spun and dashed inside and pushed the button for the basement. Turning, I faced the Atlan, and I watched his face as he realized the door was going to close. Behind him, a handful of ladies had heard the commotion and were coming out into the hallway. Their reaction to the view was causing a stir. As I watched, three more women appeared, every one of them heading in Braun’s direction. “I’m so sorry.” The elevator door began to slide closed, and I saw one perfectly manicured, smooth-skinned hand wrap around Braun’s biceps from behind. Bloodred nails, bright blue eyes, and midnight black hair. She was room 1214. I knew specifically because she had called the head of housekeeping insisting on three extra little shampoo and conditioner bottles every day. She looked like a real-life princess. Hell, maybe she was. “Braun? Everything all right?” 1214 asked, her voice making me cringe. So cultured and perfect. Like she’d grown up going to boarding school with the queen of England. “No.” He shrugged off her touch and dashed for the doors, to stop the elevator or climb on, I had no idea. In his rush, the towel slipped from his waist. As the doors slid closed, I got to see every inch of the Atlan beast. Including the one between his legs.