Daddy's Money

ASTON

One knocked into a standing vase and I cringed and waited for the crash when it hit the floor, but the doorman managed to grab it just before it toppled over. He got knocked on the head by a few of the flowers from the arrangement, but he’d saved us from having to salvage them all from the floor.

The frat guy didn’t acknowledge Fred at all. He just swept past the poor doorman and punched his buddy on the shoulder as they headed toward us. I sighed, a group of rowdy frat guys checking in always caused trouble, which was the last thing I was in the mood for, but clearly these guys wouldn’t care.

Tiffany, on the other hand, straightened up and checked her lip gloss in the reflection of the computer monitor as she nudged me with her elbow. “Perfect timing. Some might even call it divine intervention. What are the odds of them appearing right at this moment? Just think—one of them could be the guy who finally pops your cherry. The time has come, girl. Take your pick first, but personally I like the look of the blond one in the back.”

I scoffed. The blond one in the back looked as much like a stereotypical frat boy as the rest—floppy hair, preppy clothes and sunglasses indoors. “There will be no popping of my cherry by any one of these idiots. Even if I was behind your plan to get me laid, I would never give it up to any of these guys.”

“You don’t know, one of them could be Prince Charming,” she argued, a megawatt smile lighting her eyes when one of them winked at her. Not the blond in the back, but a taller, wider one with brownish curls. He sauntered over to the desk and slapped a black credit card down onto it.

“Three suites, sweetheart.” His voice was nasally and his eyes rimmed with red. He wasn’t totally unattractive, but he did nothing for me. Tiffany was insane if she thought I’d be getting it on with him or anyone else in his motley crew of floppy hair and brand names.

“Welcome to the McAllen. Let me check on the availability of our suites for you. Could I have your id, please?” It was standard procedure to ask for identification with credit cards, but Frat Guy didn’t look too happy about it.

He rummaged around in his pockets and fished it out. “Here. We need those suites, honey, stat.”

Arrogant asshole. But he was a guest and that meant he, like everyone else, deserved my utmost best. “Of course, sir. We’ll have you in your rooms in no time.”

Tiffany accepted his identification and frowned. “I’m sorry, sir. Your initials don’t match those on the card.”

“Because it’s my dad’s card,” the guy drawled, rolling his eyes like Tiffany was daft for not knowing. Irritation buzzed around in my belly. This guy was a massive dick, who probably had a very small one judging by the way he was acting.

I might have no experience in the sex department, but I had it on good authority there was some truth to the theory that men who acted like this usually had something to make up for. Guys like him also validated my decision to focus on my career instead of dating. I wasn’t hanging onto my virginity for any reason other than I hadn’t yet found a guy I thought was worthy of giving it up to, and I didn’t have time to waste searching for one. Especially since most of the guys I met on the occasions I did go out were too much like this one.

Tiffany got the frat guys through the checking in process, flirting shamelessly as she did so. They were eating it up until she slid their room keys over. Lead Frat Guy shoved them back across the counter. “Junior suites? Are you kidding me? I want the real deal.”

Tiffany’s eyes slid to the side, seeking out mine. Stepping forward, I picked up the key cards and rounded the counter. “I’m afraid these are the only suites we have available on short notice. I’m Aston, the manager here. Let me show you to these rooms, they’re stunning. You’re going to love them.”

“We ain’t junior, sweetheart. We don’t want the junior suites.” God, this guy was such a dick. The junior suites were only that in name. They were bigger than my apartment and were super luxurious. The guy definitely had something to make up for if he was being such an asshole about the names of rooms he wasn’t even paying for.

“I assure you sir, the junior suites are some of the best we have.” There was also nothing junior about their price tags either. The guy’s dad was going to have a real hefty bill to foot by the end of their stay. Another reason why I had to treat them well, the way I would want to be treated. But that was something I did anyway. My mantra was to treat everyone the way I wanted to be treated.

“We’ll have some complimentary champagne sent up as soon as you’re settled. They might be called the junior suites, but they’re large enough to accommodate each one of you in your own rooms and the balconies are lovely.”

“Lovely.” The guy repeated sarcastically, shooting his buddies a look over his shoulder. I was pretty sure he rolled his eyes too, but I ignored it.

Just breathe, Aston. They’ll be out of your hair in five minutes. “Excellent, follow me please.”

It ended up taking fifteen minutes before I was back downstairs with Tiffany. As expected, the guys were dicks about their rooms but chose to stay after some more bowing and scraping on my part.

All they really wanted was their egos stroked. Pathetic. All because of the names of their rooms?

Tiffany grinned when I got back to the front desk. “The blonde was hot, wasn’t he? Did you get an invite back to their suites later?”

“I did. Multiple times. I turned them down, of course,” I said firmly. No way was I setting foot near those guys unless I absolutely had to. 

Tiffany looked crestfallen. “Why? Sure, they’re complete asses but they also had some asses that were really tight. Come on girl, you’ll feel so much better once you get laid. All relaxed and happy.”

“I doubt if any of those guys know how to get the job done well enough to make any woman relaxed and happy,” I retorted. “They’re nothing but bad examples of what their daddy’s money can do, Tiff. I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s no way I’d ever go to bed with men like that. It’s a hard pass from me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Fine, but tomorrow’s another day. I’ll find you a guy. This discussion is not over.”

It never would be. “I’ve got to get back to work, so let’s hit pause for now. We can label this talk as ‘to be continued’ and set it aside for now.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she called, as I pushed through the door to the staff area where my office was located. “Just you wait, Aston Brier. We’ll get you laid yet!”