Chapter 10

Rosie

Oh my God, he's so much better looking in person. I wouldn't have thought that was possible. Especially all decked out like a sexy vampire. Evidently, I have a new kink that just unlocked.

I walk as quickly as my chubby legs can go, considering he's moving at a rapid pace. Of course, his stride is probably double mine.

"This hotel is really something special," I say. "You've built a magical place. It's a shame more people don't visit. Though I'm guessing this conference will change that."

He just grunts. Then he's tapping on a keypad and opening a door. The room on the other side isn't a standard hotel room. It's not even a hotel suite. No, it's like I'm stepping into a home. It's clearly been renovated to match the house's Tudor style. Dark wood paneling covers the walls and gorgeous wood beams accent the high ceiling.

"This is beautiful," I say.

Again, he grunts in response. He leads me all the way in and walks me into a large open space where there's a sitting area and a massive stone fireplace.

"There's a kitchen through there," he points to an arched doorway to the right. "The bedroom and bath are that way." He lifts his chin in the opposite direction.

A knock sounds on the door behind us.

"That'll be your cat and your stuff," he says.

Sure enough, when he opens the door, Chester, from the lobby, rolls a bell cart into the room.

Figs lets out a mighty meow.

"Oh, my sweet boy," I coo. I kneel and pull him out, giving him a cuddle.

I glance at Hudson, and he's staring at my cat as if I'm holding a tiger instead of a sixteen-pound tomcat.

Chester laughs, finishes unloading the cart and then leaves without a word.

Figs wiggles to get down and I set him on his feet. Immediately, he trots over to Hudson.

My boss still looks completely freaked out which just makes me giggle. I'm pretty sure when Figs starts weaving in between his legs, Hudson stops breathing.

"He likes you," I say. "Figs is an excellent judge of character."

Those crazy blue eyes of his widen.

"Pick him up, he wants some cuddles."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I nod to encourage him.

When my giant of a boss squats and tentatively reaches out to scratch my boy's head, Figs falls onto his back and gives Hudson a plea for a belly rub.

"He really likes you," I say. What I manage to keep inside of my mouth is that seeing my boys together spreads warmth through my entire body.

That man does not belong to you,I remind myself.

Hudson clears his throat and stands, stepping away from my cat. "You can stay here until the storm passes. I have to get back downstairs to help out."

"I can help too," I say. "I just need to set up Figs's litter box and water, and then I'll come down."

"No!" he barks. "You stay here. I have enough to deal with without having to worry about keeping you safe."

His words are confusing, but I don't want to further exacerbate him. I want him to consider me his go-to girl, his girl Friday, his right-hand err… girl. So I force myself to nod, and he turns and leaves.

The sound of the door clicking into place reminds me to set up Figs's stuff. I quickly get to work, finding Hudson's home to be intuitive and warm.

"What do you think, boy? It's very nice here, isn't it?" Figs blinks up at me. "I think so too."

Three hours later, Hudson still hasn't reappeared. I'm bored, frustrated and frankly annoyed. He can't refuse to let me work when I am in the main office of my employer. I don't have a key and I didn't catch the code he typed in at the front door. But, worst case scenario, I can find Chester and ask for help.

Hudson is just being ridiculous. Maybe he thinks I'm too young. Maybe he is embarrassed that he's a cosplayer. I don't know what it is, but that man is so reluctant to let me do anything for him.

I retrace the steps we took to get to his private suite. It's a bit of a meandering path on obnoxious hotel carpet. Kinda reminds me of The Shining and I half expect to find the creepy twins when I turn the next corner. As long as it's them and not that hella scary naked old lady behind the shower curtain.

I make it to the lobby and am still amazed at the costumes these people have put together. This must be a special con for like the upper echelons of society who have piles of money they don't know what to do with but are too scared to go to a regular con.

There's a snake-man, some sort of big blue guy, and ohhh, there's a griffin. I'm on my way to compliment him because that costume is amazing—those wings!—when a thick tentacle of some kind bands around my waist. It tightens and panic squeezes at my throat.

I try to look around to see what's pinned me in place, but then something warm and sticky and wholly unpleasant hits me dead in the back. Something slimy and sticky spreads over my body. Like a lot of it.

Remember in Ghostbusters—the original, please and thank you—when Bill Murray gets slimed? Yep, I'm thinking that it might have felt like this. Whatever it is, it's covered me entirely. I try to raise my hands to wipe it off, but my hands don't respond. What the hell? I try to struggle, but then I really can't move and my breathing slows.

Oh shit! What is happening?