The girl at the front desk clicks around on her computer, her brows rising slightly as she sees the 'mistake.'

Havoc is next to me instantly, grumbling on and on about there being no fucking way in fucking hell that she's sharing a room with me. I don't want to make a scene, and I know she's had a little bit too much to drink, so I lie. Again.

"I'm sorry, but I seem to have two reservations under 'Hale,'" Blondie says. I stare at her name that's embroidered in teal onto a pressed, black blouse.

"Listen, Georgie, it's just a little misunderstanding. Both my wife and I made a reservation for tonight. Just one room is fine. Don't worry, I'll pay for the other one as well if you want. I know it's very last minute." I curl my fingers around Havoc's wrist, feel the smooth leather of her jacket—expensive shit—and hear her take in a sharp breath.

"Let. Go," she hisses. It's impressive the kind of authority that comes out of this petite spitfire, and if I wasn't so dominant in nature, I'd be shaking at the knees.

"Shut up," I whisper violently. I swear I'm gonna pay for that later—I fucking hope so.

I ignore Havoc and turn my attention to Georgie again, her hazel eyes shooting back and forth between the two of us.

"That's no problem at all, Mr. Hale. The room is ready for you, eleventh floor. Turn right when you exit the elevator upstairs. It's the last door in the hallway."

I snatch the key card booklet out of her manicured fingers with a smile, before I turn and walk toward the elevator.

"What the fuck?!" Havoc's feisty, worked up like crazy. That, along with the alcohol she's been consuming at the club, coats her cheeks in a lovely shade of pink. It's one of my favorite colors, especially on the swells of asses… on my girls… on my guys…

I picture her before me: Havoc in a little black number, preferably crotchless, or one with pearls that keep hitting her clit, her arousal dripping down those shapely thighs. She'd kneel at my chair, where I'd pet her hair and make her look at me. I'd ask her if she's been a good girl for me, and she'd blush that shade of pink and shake her head in shame.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk … baby, baby princess … you know what happens when my girl doesn't follow my code? Don't you?"

She nods.

"Words. Use them. Speak." I roll up the sleeves of my black shirt, dropping my cufflinks in the tray that's on my dresser.

"I do know, Sir. When your girl doesn't live by Sir's code, she gets spanked. Thirty times. With the paddle, the nine-tails, or his hand depending on what she did, Sir." Her knowledge of my rules is impeccable, but I know Isabella just gets off on getting punished.

"Are you gonna fucking move, or what?" She shoves me in the chest, getting me out of the way so she can enter the mirrored elevator.

I adjust myself in my pants before I step in behind her, and the bellboy presses the button to our floor.

"How could you?" She spits, brown eyes radiating fire.

"You want Jasper to have to pay double? For two rooms? Since I'm sure this room is a suite, there's gonna be plenty of room for you to avoid me."

She arches one perfect brow my way.

"How the fuck do you know that?"

"Look at the buttons, Havoc. Eleven is the highest floor. Plus, Blondie over at the front desk gave me the suite booklet. Attention to details, sweetheart. It's so very important. You should know that. You know," I get closer to whisper into her ear, "as a Domme..." I can't keep the cocky smile off my face as I watch her face transform. Havoc looks ready to spit fire.

Tonight might be fun. Or complete torture.