1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

T ypically filled with laughter, conversation, and music, the quiet emptiness of Blackhaven Manor was a little disconcerting. Still, a cautious excitement hung in the air, infecting the staff as it spread to every corner of the castle.

After months of waiting, the day had finally come.

Gathered in the hotel lobby with two dozen or so of his fellow co-workers, Kingston Mathers shifted from one foot to the other in anticipation as he awaited his instructions. He secretly hoped he would be working directly with their special guests, but honestly, he was just happy to be included at all. Even if he could only watch from a distance, he could hardly believe he'd been given such an opportunity.

Dressed in a sleeveless white sundress dotted with cherry blossoms, Skye Maddock held her dainty hands at her waist as she faced the group. She'd pulled her long, golden curls into a high ponytail, leaving a few strands loose at the front to frame her face.

With her cheery smile and Barbie blue eyes, she looked like spring personified.

"Kol, Wren, and Simon, you'll be in charge of guest services. Coordinating reservations, room service, currier deliveries, etc."

A small man with blond hair that fell down to his hips, Wren cocked his head to the side with a mischievous grin. "So, what we always do?"

Skye narrowed her eyes at him, but her lips twitched at the corners. "Watch it. I have no problem sending you back to Louisiana."

"Bet you won't," the petite male responded with a smirk. "You love me."

Kol, their lead concierge, elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up."

Skye simply rolled her eyes and moved on to the next group.

King hadn't met Wren before that morning, and he still hadn't decided how he felt about the guy. He had learned from other staff members that Wren was a previous employee who had transferred to the sister hotel in Hunters Hollow, Louisiana, a few years ago.

Apparently, he had "volunteered" to help out for the next three weeks at Blackhaven Manor.

Clearly, being friends with the boss had its perks. Considering the number of people employed at the castle, his assistance wasn't exactly needed, but King fully understood why he'd requested to be there.

A number of scenes from the new gay drama, Checking In , had been slated to film at Blackhaven Manor in late February. Four months later, after several delays, the cast and crew were finally arriving that afternoon.

Most of the staff had never witnessed the filming process before, and they looked forward to the experience. At least, that was what they told each other. In reality, everyone was practically vibrating with anticipation of meeting the stars of the show.

With two other dramas and a full-length movie under their belts, the main couple had recently exploded in popularity. Seemingly overnight, they had amassed legions of fans, and with several brand deals between them, even people who didn't follow the genre had heard the names Storm Black and Damien Frost.

Their shippers—fans who either wanted or already believed the actors shared a romantic relationship—were seriously next-level. The way they analyzed every little move, smile, or word took obsession into a whole new dimension. King couldn't imagine what it would be like to have so many people care that much about every mundane detail of his life, and he hoped to never find out.

While not a shipper himself, he admitted to being a fan. He considered both actors incredibly talented, and together, they had explosive on-screen chemistry. That was enough for him. As for who they dated or slept with, he couldn't have cared less.

"Cyrus," Skye said, speaking to the hotel's head of security. "Filming starts next Monday, but there are interviews and two fan meetings this week. We should also anticipate large crowds outside the hotel."

The hellhound dipped his head, his black eyes never wavering from the female. "My team is ready, and the sheriff's department is sending out a handful of deputies."

Skye nodded, then turned to a middle-aged male at the edge of the group. "Harry?"

Harry Bowen, who oversaw every restaurant and bar in the building, cleared his throat. "The catering menus and craft table selections have been approved. We're ready."

Satisfied, Skye continued down the list, speaking next with leaders and managers from other teams before finally reaching the housekeeping staff.

As she outlined their duties, it sounded as though not much would change for them. They would ensure the rooms and common areas remained clean, bring guests extra towels and pillows, and respond to requests as needed.

A lucky few of them, however, would be helping out with cleanup during production, setup and breakdown during events, and maintaining the other cast and crew areas. No one had been assigned to those tasks yet, and they hadn't been given any indication as to who would be chosen.

An ingenious move on the part of their manager since everyone on the housekeeping staff had been especially diligent in recent weeks, hoping to earn an edge over the others.

"We're ready," Maia said. With a wide smile, she turned to those gathered and glanced down at her clipboard. "Celia, Libby, Jacob, Nita, Collin, and Eric. You will be taking care of the cast and crew areas."

She said a few more words after that, but King had stopped listening. Hanging his head, he bit the inside of his bottom lip to stifle his disappointment. Until that moment, he hadn't realized how much he'd been hoping to hear his name called.

"King?"

He jerked upright and squared his shoulders at the summons. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he detected a gleam in Skye's blue eyes when he met her gaze.

"You and Arlo are assigned to Mr. Black and Mr. Frost. You'll fetch drinks and food, keep track of their schedules, and really, anything else they need."

"Like a personal assistant?" With a quiet gasp, Arlo Eichen grabbed hold of King's wrist in a bruising grip as he waited for an answer.

Average height with a lean build, flawless tawny skin, and bright golden-brown eyes, the guy looked like he should be in front of the camera, not behind it. The fact that he had more charisma in his pinky than King did in his entire body didn't hurt, either.

They had started at the Manor around the same time, but Arlo had quickly become a guest favorite with plenty of admirers of his own. King, on the other hand, doubted most of the staff knew who he was, despite working with him for nearly a year.

Not that he cared. He certainly wasn't jealous. That would be ridiculous.

Skye lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Something like that."

"Oh, sweet baby cherubs," Arlo whispered loudly as he shook King's arm. "I think I'm going to pass out. This is unreal."

While he definitely shared his friend's excitement, his came with a healthy dose of skepticism. "Don't they already have assistants? Or managers?"

At the very least, he imagined someone from the concierge team would be better suited to take on the task. Naturally, he was honored to have been chosen, but he couldn't help but think there were better options available.

"Maybe you—" He grunted when Arlo chose that moment to stomp on his foot, effectively cutting off his protest.

A knowing grin stretched across Skye's pink lips while she studied him for an uncomfortably long time. "If you don't want—"

"I want!" he interrupted, literally shouting the words at her. "I'll do it." He cursed under his breath and winced when he caught an elbow in the ribs from Arlo. "Both of us," he emphasized as he rubbed his abused side. "We'll do it."

"And I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job."

When she moved on to talk about other preparations, Arlo leaned sideways, bumping their shoulders together.

"Is it just me, or did that sound like a threat?"

"It's not you." He had clearly detected the uncurrent of or else in her statement. "Don't stress about it. I'm sure it will be fine."

Skye might be tough, but she was also fair. He had never known her to fire anyone for an accident or mistake. In fact, he would venture that someone would have to be downright negligent or malicious to get sacked from the hotel. Even if he and Arlo screwed up royally, as long as they tried their best, they would be okay.

Probably.

"I think that covers everything," Skye said, concluding the meeting. "Everyone back to work. Our guests should be arriving soon."

As she spoke, her gaze landed on King, and he instinctively knew he hadn't been dismissed with everyone else. Sure enough, a moment later, she asked him and Arlo to follow her to the welcome desks at the front of the lobby. There, she grabbed two sheets of paper and glanced briefly at them.

"Mr. Frost's schedule." She passed one of the pages to Arlo. "And Mr. Black's." She handed the second sheet to King. "You'll also find a list of preferences at the bottom."

Perusing the information, his eyes widened at the sheer scope of Storm Black's schedule. Between meetings, filming, and all of his extracurriculars, every minute of the day seemed to be filled. The guy even had time allotted for his meals.

By the gods, did he even sleep?

The bottom third of the page was dedicated to his preferences. How he took his coffee. What brand of water he liked. His favorite foods—listed by category. Items he requested be on set with him, like a humidifier and aroma therapy inhalers. Apparently, the actor was allergic to peanuts, which was uncommon for an Otherling, but not completely unheard of.

"Impressive." Folding the sheet twice, he tucked the small square into the back pocket of his slacks. "Thank you. This will be really helpful."

"Yes," Arlo agreed, still looking over his own list. "Thank you."

Without a word, Skye reached over the counter and came back with two old-fashioned brass keys.

Confused but unable to refuse, King took one of the keys with an arched eyebrow.

"Your rooms," Skye explained. "You'll need to be available twenty-four hours a day. Of course, you'll be compensated accordingly." She clasped her hands together gently as she glanced between them. "If that's a problem—"

"No problem," Arlo interrupted. "Right, King?"

Plenty of humans worked at the hotel, and town residents frequented the bars and restaurants, but they weren't permitted to stay in the rooms of the castle. The exception being those who arrived with an Otherling companion.

So, not only would he be playing temporary assistant to one of the most famous people in the country, but he would do so while staying at the Manor for free. He would be an idiot to pass up the opportunity, and while he could admittedly be a bit neurotic at times, he wasn't stupid.

"No problem," he echoed.

"Wonderful." Skye grinned, but she sounded distracted and uncharacteristically impatient. "Now, our guests won't arrive for a couple of more hours. Head home and make whatever preparations you need for the next three weeks." She glanced at an ancient grandfather clock behind the counters. "I'll see you back here at noon."

He and Arlo thanked her again, then waited until she disappeared down the narrow corridor to her office before turning to each other with identical beaming smiles.

"Can you freaking believe this?"

King could only shake his head. A year ago, he had been delivering room service. A few months later, he'd moved over to housekeeping, a position that came with more responsibilities, but also better pay.

This newest promotion, however temporary, seemed unreal. Things like this—good things—rarely happened to him.

He wouldn't necessarily say he had bad luck. Mostly because he didn't have any luck at all. He'd never won anything in his life. Not competitions, games, drawings, or raffle prizes. His one and only trip to a casino had lasted exactly nine minutes. That had been how long it had taken him to lose a hundred dollars on the penny slots.

He'd never found money in an old coat pocket. Never picked up a penny from the sidewalk. He'd never felt a tingling in his palm, an itch in his ear, or caught every green light on a busy road.

Then again, he couldn't blame it all on chance. Some things required a certain amount of drive and ambition that he just didn't possess. He didn't have dreams or aspirations. He didn't set goals for himself.

For as long as he could remember, he had been the epitome of average. Average height. Average build. Average looks and intelligence. Never the best at anything, but never the worst, either, always falling somewhere in the middle. And honestly, he was content with that.

Well, usually. As long as he didn't—

Nope, he wasn't even going to think about it. He didn't want that kind of negativity encroaching on what was shaping up to be the best day of his life.

Since he and Arlo lived in the same apartment building—a new construction off the highway that had once been the location of an antiquated motel—they decided to carpool. Sliding behind the wheel of his SUV, he grabbed a hoodie and a couple of empty water bottles from the passenger seat and tossed them into the back to clear a space for his friend.

On the drive, they continued to discuss their excitement and good fortune, while also pondering what the co-stars might be like in real life. They'd both heard horror stories about beloved celebrities being total douchebags off-camera and treating everyone around them like trash.

King prayed that wouldn't be the case for Storm Black.

"What do you think we need to pack?" Arlo asked just as King pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building. "Do we have to wear our hotel uniforms?"

A good question, and one he hadn't considered. "Uh, I don't know."

After a bit of discussion, they decided to bring their uniforms, a few casual outfits, and a couple of nicer pieces. By King's way of thinking, that covered their bases, and they could always return for another closet raid if they needed to.

In the building's lobby, they went their separate ways, Arlo taking the stairs to his second-floor unit while King rode the elevator to the fourth. He had barely made it inside his apartment when his phone rang, the shrill ringtone echoing through his living room.

A quick glance at the name of the caller was enough to deflate any happiness he felt. Of course, he could ignore it. Let it go to voicemail and claim to have been working. Eventually, he'd have to talk to the person on the other end of the line, though. So, with a shaking hand and a weary heart, he connected the call.

"Hello, Mom."