And the lobby, like the lobby of all posh hotels, was a thing to behold, at least half the allure of the place. It had been the central tower of the o...d jail. It climbed to a grand, gabled ceiling. Along its sides were may balconies looming over marble floors. It doubled as a restaurant and lounge, and its well-dressed patrons milled about or sat on cushioned chairs, sipping cocktails, lolling away the cold Boston morning. I strutted directly to the desk. If anyone recognized me, I'd have been. "Not like I don't have anything on you though," she said."Huh?" What, you think I haven't heard you jacking off? I hear your bed frame hitting the wall every time you do it, dumb ass."Our rooms were right next to each other. Shit. Now I was embarrassed, really embarrassed, and I had a weird pit in my stomach. She let out a quick giggle. Everything was out in the open now."Can I tell you a secret?" she asked.I nodded, now I was really nervous."Sometimes it makes me hot—to hear you getting. ” I reached out to Wilson who seemed to be struggling with his pants and gathering up his other clothes in his arms. “Now, Mr. Wilson, to your room. We have some unfinished business.”I picked up my dress and heels from the floor where they had been discarded. I was waiting at the door. He looked nervous, “Aren’t you getting dressed?”“How far do we have to go? Just down the hall, I presumed.” He nodded. “Then, dressing would be silly. I’ll just have to take off, again.” He shook his. She was certain the scar across Bradley's cheek held a story of sadness, one she could guess at sometimes when she caught his eyes soften when he thought no one was looking. He was very good at hiding it, of course, but men were not so good at hiding as women were at finding. Rebecca's refusals only added fervor to Amelia's desire to know from whence Bradley had come. She changed the subject of their discourse and continued their walk through the gardens. Returning to the guests as Bradley.
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