Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 71

Does she even hear herself? She's not wrong, though.

A person could starfish on the mattress two or three times over without touching anyone else on the other side.

Only, that doesn't change the fact that there's one bed.

One bed.

Only one bed for two awkwardly attracted people and a man fighting off his inner caveman like a feral monkey with a stick.

A single shared bed we're somehow expected to sleep in without turning into ravenous beasts tearing each other's clothes off.

"I'm calling them," I growl.

"Hold up. I know how much a room like this costs," she continues, running her fingers along the silky bedspread. "I checked, remember?"

"I can afford another room, goddammit. I'm sure there's something available."

"And if there isn't?" She looks at me.

"Then I'll take the sofa, woman. We need rest if we want to make the most of this weekend."

"When you're the one flipping the bill? Um, no. And that's beside the point." She juts her chin out so defiantly I almost laugh. When a woman gives you that look, it means you've already lost. "You paid for this room. I agreed to it, and I also asked for one room. We'll be fine. I can survive a few nights in a place that makes my apartment look like a beat-up shed. One roommate, that's a luxury—and you won't even throw chicken nuggets around."

I snort, biting back a grin. She's insufferable.

She also might think it'll be fine, but she hasn't met my self-control, or lack thereof.

Right now, it's hanging by its very last worn thread.

"Your choice," I bite off. "One room. One bed. Whatever."

"Okay. Now that we have that settled…" She sends me a nervous glance before stepping over to the floor-to-ceiling window and looking out at the mountains in the distance. There are more suites farther to our right, but the place does a remarkable job with positioning for maximum privacy.

It looks like there's nothing else around. No one to hear if we—

Stop. Right the hell now.

"And you're not." She folds her arms, her lips twisted sourly. "But so what? Why does it matter?"

"Because these men have egos bigger than the moon. They're obsessed with optics. If they're not marching in with their wives, they're flaunting their weekend arm candy, whatever model mistress or exotic sugar baby they've hired to impress."

"Gross!" She inhales sharply. "And you—what? You want me to play that game? To be your accessory?"

I swallow.

"I want you to be taken seriously." I hold up my hands. "There are a lot of pigs who come to feed at these conferences, but that's not everyone. There's another class of professionals who shows up here. The classic power couple. Men with wives and girlfriends who have their heads in the game, usually sharper than their partners. They're some of the biggest movers and shakers around, and I've always had trouble connecting with the type when I'm a damn loner."

Her lips twist, mulling over my breathtaking stupidity.

"But if I walk in there with a brilliant woman on my arm, it could help us both connect with the real players. Have you thought about your future after Higher Ends, assuming you stay in real estate? There's no telling the doors these people could open."

"What, because they think I'm connected to you?" She huffs a breath. "How many connections do you think I'll make? Or really, how many connections would make this ruse worth it?"

"I'm not asking you to like it. Real opportunities never come easy in this biz."