Hangover

I opened my eyes and growled at the blinding daylight. I lifted my head an inch or two, but, apparently, my face wasn't ready to say goodbye to the pillow. As the head fell back to its rightful place, my temples turned into taiko drums, and an invisible Japanese guy started to bang the holy shit out of them.

I hated hangovers, and this one was clearly the worst one I'd had in years. What the hell was I drinking last night? Molotov cocktails?! My hand slid through the sheets, hoping to reach the bedside table and the aspirin pill I left there yesterday. As soon as I realized that my hand was too short to reach beyond the bed, I began to crawl, inching face-down in worm-like movements. Suddenly, my nose sank into a white, soft fabric. I inhaled the scent, and the agonizing pressure inside my head began to disappear. I took another breath and bit my lip. Something about this scent caused all my female hormones to do happy little somersaults. My nose wandered through the fabric until it got glued to something sticky and sweet.

I yanked my head up and realized I was sniffing a shirt—a man's shirt... My hand clamped my mouth just in time to muffle my scream as the memories of last night returned in the form of an embarrassing series of images.

I swallowed, staring at the shirt, and I mumbled, "Alex..."

That guy from yesterday was obviously pissed, and now he was waiting for me to return his shirt—his freshly cleaned shirt! I raised the fabric to estimate the damage and let out a painful groan. "God… I even drooled all over it!"

I sucked in a deep breath, then another one and another one until my brain was able to process anything beyond the basic information. As soon as my neurons turned off their sleepy mode, I recognized the softness under my fingertips. My mouth released a hysterical chuckle, and my heart began to race.

The shirt was made of the purest Egyptian cotton. It was also tailor-made and finished by hand. To sum it up, this shirt was worth more than my month's rent—or two months' rent. I sucked in a deep breath and dragged my fingers through my hair.

"Sarah, you got this. You got the oil paint out of your favorite sweatshirt, more times than it should be possible. You surely can remove the sticky something out of an astronomically expensive shirt!"

The self-pep-talk lessened my panic and awakened logical thinking. A few minutes later, I swayed my way to the bathroom and did everything I could to resemble a human being. As soon as that happened, I began the Spotless Shirt Operation. Thanks to my annoying professional habit, I had always carried a few odd detergents in my bag. Now that habit could save my life…

Two hours later, I declared victory over the stain that wickedly corrupted the handsome guy's shirt. Bringing my professionalism to a higher level, I ironed it and hung it on the borrowed cover, courtesy of the hotel's cleaning staff. Proud of myself, I walked out of my room only to realize that I had no idea where I could find the owner of that damn shirt…

"Idiot. Sarah, you're an absolute idiot!" I growled at myself, parading downstairs, a black shirt cover in hand.

Should I ask Jarvis if he had seen him? He might have told me if he had. Of course, I would have to tell him about my embarrassing encounter with Mr. Dark and Dangerous, and then he would probably laugh his ass off, but he could be the only person able to help—

"Excuse me?" A deep man's voice caused my head to snap to the side. "You're that girl from yesterday, aren't you?"

I had no idea what he meant, but my cheeks had already begun to flare with raw heat. "W-what do you mean?" I laughed nervously, scanning the man in front of me, terrified that I might have done more embarrassing things than those I could remember.

"Oh, you're definitely THAT girl." The man grinned, revealing perfectly white teeth, and then it hit me...

"You're his friend," I muttered, recognizing him as one of the mouthwatering quartet in suits. I wouldn't call the recognition part hard since he was wearing a suit even now, and he was looking just as hot as I remembered him in my blissful, alcoholic state.

His green eyes widened, and his smile vibrated with the purest kind of amusement. "I'm Grayson." He stretched out his hand. "And you are?"

I shook his hand and let out an awkward chuckle. "I'm Sarah… And I was just looking for… your friend." More awkward laughter came out of me, and I could almost see my subconscious facepalm.

"Alex?" Now the bright, teeth-flashing grin turned into a smirk. "I'm afraid he might be unavailable at the moment. Do you want anything… specific from him? Perhaps I could replace him?"

Was this guy flirting with me?! I blinked a few times and slowly scanned his wavy hair in a color resembling a mix of blond and ginger, his white shirt with three or four undone buttons, revealing a part of his muscled chest, and the rest of him packed in a suit that fit him like a second skin. He was certainly attractive, but my hormones didn't seem all that impressed.

I cleared my throat and lifted my hand holding a shirt cover. "I have Mr. Alexander's shirt... I washed it and wanted to return it to him."

Grayson's brows rose. "You… washed his shirt?"

My lips stretched into a thin line. "Yes. Is washing his shirts forbidden or something?"

He cracked a grin again. "Not at all." Then he looked me up and down, causing me to wonder if there was something wrong with the shorts or the white tank top I was wearing. "I would have gladly delivered him… his laundry, but, unfortunately, I'm quite busy."

"But do you know where I can find him?" I gave him a pleading look. "I really wouldn't want to spend the rest of my weekend carrying his shirt with me."

"Oh, we cannot let that happen." The amusement in his voice increased. "Here." He pulled out a hotel room key card from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. "You can leave it in his room."

"In his room?" I echoed, sounding like a brainless creature.

He nodded. "Go to the Golden Suite. It's on the top floor. Use that card to enter and leave the shirt. You can leave the card at reception once you're done."

I blinked. "And that's it?"

"That's it." He chuckled and nonchalantly looked at his watch. "I need to go to a conference. Alex is probably busy with business transactions, so if I were you, I would go to his suite and deliver this shirt now."

A second later, he turned around and walked away, leaving me with the golden-black key card in my hand. This task sounded harmless when Grayson described it, so why did it feel like a complete violation of the handsome guy's privacy?

"Screw it!" I decided, shifting my feet toward the hotel elevators. It was my hard-earned vacation, and I was not going to waste priceless minutes trying to find Mr. Sex-on-the-legs no matter how much my lady bits would want me to keep looking!

As soon as I reached the top floor, I realized that finding the Golden Suite wasn't going to be difficult. It was the ONLY suite on the entire floor. I pressed the card against the scanner and grabbed the door handle.

"Hello?" I called out cautiously, but no reply came for several heartbeats. Drawing a deep breath, I walked inside. Who would have thought that the Golden Suite was actually... golden? Well, all right, it was white with an excessive amount of golden ornaments, furniture elements, and curtains. Even the pearl-white flooring had specks of gold melted into the stone. For a moment, I wondered if all that gold was real…

I walked inside, taking in the slightly overwhelming interior, until I found myself standing in a spacious salon with a row of glass doors opening to a terrace with a private swimming pool. Seriously? A night in a suite like this surely cost even more than the shirt I had just carefully washed.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of an opening door followed by a roar. "How the fuck did you get here?!"

I turned toward the sound, and if my mouth had been opened before, then now my jaw must have fallen down to drool over the stone floor. It turned out Alexander was in his suite when I entered. In fact, he was in his bathroom, most likely taking a shower. Now he walked out of the bathroom and stood two feet away from me. He was gorgeously wet… and absolutely naked.