She didn't hide, exactly.
It wasn't as if she ran into the bedroom, buried herself under the covers, and feigned sleep. No, to do so would have been cowardly, and all need for moral support aside, Jane was determined to face this little incident with as much grace and courage as she could muster.
She did however, take a step back so she wasn't immediately visible from the front entrance, if only to steal herself a moment of uninterrupted observation.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal Gunther balancing a drink carrier of what smelled like coffee, a box she fervently hoped included some sort of foodstuffs, and a large, colorfully printed paper bag.
He didn't notice her watching him, and went about setting everything on the expansive marble countertop that separated the kitchen from the living space. From the bag he withdrew a package of gauze and sports wrap, a blouse, a pair of ballet flats, and a pair of jeans which - even from here - Jane could see probably cost more than all her other pairs combined.
Gunther himself was dressed casually, black jeans, a tee-shirt, and tennis shoes, and for a minute Jane wasn't even entirely sure it was him. It was such a stark contrast from his suit the night before that she had difficulty reconciling the two - and she was suddenly overcome with a fresh wave of embarrassment for having assumed he was her - anyone's - escort.
She thought, detachedly, that these waves were likely to continue sneaking up on her for quite some time to come.
Somehow though, his outfit didn't seem at odds with the opulence of the room; Gunther appeared more approachable this way, less intimidating. He looked completely at home here, and it struck her again - of course he was at home, this WAS his home.
Fuck.
FUCK!
What had she done?
Jane must have made some sort of noise - a small sound of embarrassed, horrified distress - because he turned around.
"Oh, you've already showered." He sounded disappointed. "I was hoping to make it back in time to join you." He gestured to the clothes sitting on the counter. "I'm afraid your dress was a total loss, but I won't apologize for ruining it." He gave her a heated look.
Jane shivered in response, which made him smirk. Wasn't he just the smuggiest of smug jerks?
"No, not sorry at all," he continued. "Though when I got out of bed I had one of your scales stuck to my ass."
Jane blinked. There was an image to file away for future use.
"You're not my escort," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Nope. And you're the dumbfuck who sent Pepper overseas."
Ah, yes. Neither of them had been particularly truthful, had they?
"How did you find out?" She tugged nervously at the edge of his shirt, feeling suddenly, terribly exposed - which was silly. Ridiculous even. He'd certainly seen all of her last night. And this morning. Twice.
"Google."
"Oh," she said, feeling a bit stupid. Technology was her field after all. She was hardly a silent owner of DraCo. Jane wanted to blame it on the late night but -
She was embarrassed, and wondered if she should be mad. He had lied to her, hadn't he?
Hadn't he?
She tried to remember… had he ever actually said he was her escort? Or had he, as Pepper had implied, simply allowed her to believe what she herself had decided was true?
Nor was it as if she had been exactly forthcoming with him - of course she'd had a valid reason for her initial reticence, thinking him a hooker and all… but then, hadn't he had a valid reason too? He must have thought her certifiably insane.
She was feeling, at the moment, that he probably would have been correct.
"Who are you then?" she asked, as her phone started to vibrate in her hand. She glanced down, distracted; Pepper calling. She sent it straight to voicemail.
"Gunther Breech," he said. "This is my hotel - among others. And you are Jane Turnkey, the brilliant - if somewhat reclusive - owner of DraCo."
Jane plopped, rather ungracefully, down onto his couch, drew up her legs, and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Your hotel."
"It is."
"Which means it is your charity."
"My mother's, actually."
"Christ." She pulled the shirt over her knees and tucked her face into the neck. "I came into your house, to your mother's charity event, declared you were my prostitute, got into a fucking fist fight with my ex, and then humped you like a sex-starved bunny."
"I am not sure I agree with all of that, but you certainly came."
Jane groaned, and tried to make herself smaller.
"What are you doing in there?"
"Waiting for the ground to swallow me whole."
"As we are on the top floors, that seems unlikely to occur any time soon." He sat down beside her and tugged at the collar of the shirt. "Please come out."
"I will not."
"You can't stay in there forever." He pulled her hair to the side, exposing her neck.
"I can and I will. The demogorgon protects me."
"It offers free hugs." He traced the freckles on the back of her neck.
"It's a lie."
"I'll come in there after you." Gunther ran a finger down the length of her spine.
"There is no room."
"There is always room in the upsidedown." His hand crept under the shirt and settled on the small of her back.
"FINE." She popped out with a huff of frustration. In for a penny in for a pound - or whatever - bullshit. It was all bullshit.
"Wh-, why di -" she stuttered, too embarrassed to go on. She held her hand out in a gesture of wordless supplication.
Gunther caught it in his own and turned it over, his teasing forgotten. "Why did I pretend I was your escort?" He scowled at the scabs that had formed on her knuckles.
"Yes." Shit on toast, she was a plethora of witticisms this morning. Perhaps he really had fucked her stupid.
"Well -" he probed the bruised skin, and apparently satisfied the injury was no worse than the night before, set her hand in his lap before covering it with his own. "Once I got past my initial surprise, I found I was rather intrigued by the idea of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my LIFE needing to pay for her date. I figured you were either an actress or a spy or crazy - probably crazy - any of which would have been a welcome distraction from the evening. But then you turned out to be none of the above - and, well - I didn't see any good reason for disabusing you of the notion."
Jane whined a little - her embarrassment was threatening to make her hide again.
"If I'd told you the truth at the party, you probably would have been humiliated and bolted -"
"There's no probably in that statement," she said, studying the frayed hem of her purloined shirt with fixed attention.
"And that's the last thing I wanted, Jane. The last thing in the world. Though if I WERE an escort," he continued, "you'd have gotten a freebie for punching that dillhole in the face - because until we made it up here, I had never seen anything quite so sexy."
Jane wouldn't have believed it possible for her to flush any more deeply… but she would have been mistaken. She could feel her face positively radiating heat at his words as a confusing mix of emotions churned within her, vying for dominance. She was still mortified, but also a little bit flattered, and definitely in agreement about never having seen anything remotely so sexy in her entire life before they'd stumbled out of the elevator and into his -
Home, she thought, still a bit stupidly. His home.
And she was continuing to have a hard time - a very hard time - making all the pieces fit.
"But what… what about…" she paused, took a breath, tried to collect herself. "Gunther, the rose!?"
"I'd pulled it out of one of the arrangements - half wilted before the party was even underway! - and was contemplating whether to fire the florist then, or wait until morning. Now, though… I think he'll actually be getting a bonus."
"Kathryn and Lillian?"
"Lillian is my aunt, Kathryn is her partner."
Jane gave him a long look before narrowing her eyes in disbelief. It was too convenient, too easy by half.
"Why don't you call them 'aunt' then?"
"Even if I had been willing to risk revealing that I was not, in fact, your escort - does Kathryn seem like someone who would appreciate being reminded that she is old enough to be my mother?"
Not even a little bit.
"No, she does not," she conceded. Jane took a deep breath. "And running through the hotel naked?"
"I was four. I peed in the elevator. It's their favorite go-to 'embarrass Gunther' story."
"No wonder you didn't want her to elaborate - that certainly would have changed the tone of the story. Especially if she neglected to mention your age."
Jane's phone vibrated again.
"Aren't you going to get that?"
"No." She shook her head. "It's Pepper."
"You should answer it - she's probably worried if she's calling over and over."
"Oh, she's not worried. She's gloating. I spoke to her this morning and -" Jane found herself unable to continue.
Gunther waited expectantly for her to finish.
" - she never made the," Jane cleared her throat, "reservation."
"Then you should definitely answer it -" he tugged at an errant curl - "and thank her."
"No," she huffed, "I think I should let her stew… forever."
"That hardly seems nice - here, I'll just say thank you then - I find myself intrigued by this Pepper." He snatched up her phone from where it lay between them on the couch.
"No, you can't -" Jane pounced on him, "she'll never let me hear the end of it - Fuck! The teasing will be merciless!" And then they were wrestling, body to body, first him on top then Jane with the advantage. "Goddamn it!" Jane had almost pinned him underneath her - she had straddled his hips and was reaching desperately, giggling and fighting as though her very life depended on it, for her phone. "I'm not above breaking a few of your ribs!"
Gunther wrapped his large hands around her waist and she suddenly found herself on her back, crushed beneath his mass, his weight settled - not at all unpleasantly - between her legs.
He smirked and ground his hips down, causing her to gasp with pleasure. Her phone buzzed again. Pepper was being unusually persistent.
He handed it over, "Answer it. Make nice with your friend." He ground against her again, slower this time.
Dirty tricks.
Jane tapped the screen. "Pepper, he-"
"OH THANK GOD YOU ANSWERED, GUNTHER BREECH OWNS THE KIPPERNIUM AND A HUNDRED OTH-"
Gunther chuckled at Pepper's announcement - her words were clearly audible from the short distance.
"I know, Pepper."
Gunther pulled down the collar of the too-large shirt, and kissed the skin there, teasing it with his tongue.
"And the charity - It's his family's - He probably put the whole thing on himself -"
He moved down and pulled the shirt up, exposing her breasts, licking and nipping his way along their undersides as Pepper ranted. She could feel him smiling against her skin.
Jane bit her lip, suppressing a moan. "I know, Pepper."
"You marched up to one of the eligible bachelors in the COUNTRY and told him he was your prostitute."
"I am unfortunately aware, Pepper. Though I'd like to think I glid. Glidded?" Dammit it was hard to think straight when Gunther was -
"Glided," she amended, then gasped as he kissed his way down, tugging on the band of the boxers. "But I don't think he minds."
Pepper was silent for a moment - Jane could hear her friend's mind whirling in spite of her own severely divided attention. Then -
"Are you?" Pepper stuttered. "Is he-? Sweet Jesus I need to get laid - but then why did you answer the phone?"
Gunther reached up and plucked the little device from her hand. This time, Jane didn't bother to protest.
"Because I wanted to say thank you, Pepper. For first suggesting, then neglecting to follow through with the call to the escort company. I'd say - though you'd have to take it up with your boss - you deserve a raise." He kissed the sensitive skin of Jane's stomach. "Though I do wonder how many men - perfectly innocent men, mind you - bearing flowers I had security throw out."
Jane could hear Pepper's bright peals of shocked laughter ringing through the phone from half a world away.
"Now if you'll excuse me," Gunther continued with exquisite politeness, "I have other very pressing matters which require my immediate attention."
He ended the call, dropped the phone on the floor, and did just that.
They'd enjoyed each other quite thoroughly - then showered - then gotten distracted, then showered again.
Then gotten distracted. Again.
After that, Jane had finally, though not without a certain reluctance, cried "enough!" in deference to her shaking legs and empty stomach.
She'd dressed in the clothes he'd brought her - the blouse was covered in roses, of all the impudent, arrogant, assumptive purchases - and they had gone out to eat. They'd also made a short stop at the police station to file a report. Algernon had in fact been remanded to police custody, and enjoyed their hospitality for the night.
All in all it was a pleasant, genial affair, and held very little of the awkwardness Jane might have expected from their unconventional introduction.
That's not to say Gunther was perfect - but how utterly boring would he have been if he was? Outside the thick walls of The Kippernium and without the formal attire of his suit to act as a sort of armor, he was far less assured; slightly awkward, even.
In contrast, Jane found it much easier to be herself without the trappings of high society - and while she appreciated the thoughtfulness of his purchases, she secretly wanted the too-large comfort of her stolen tee-shirt.
They made quite the pair, and spent their time out absorbed in genial conversation and pleasantly argumentative banter.
They returned to his suite; Gunther said he had no intention of letting her escape until - at the very least - he could have her dress repaired. It was a patently flimsy excuse; he could easily have it delivered, but Jane felt no inclination to argue. She found herself thoroughly enchanted by this not-escort and was delighted to discover he had many of the same quirky interests she did - though he had almost no interest in technology past his gaming console and found most new gadgets intimidating - preferring instead, his books on medieval history.
No, Jane was in no hurry to leave - though she found the warmth from their friendly, affectionate bickering made her just the smallest bit, well, nervous. It was overwhelming - almost a tad frightening, in fact - just how utterly compatible they were, and how quickly it had happened. They weren't perfect… quite… yet. But they could be. She felt that truth reverberating right down to her bones. They could be. She'd never felt this with another man, and would have scoffed at anyone who'd told her that such a connection could be practically instantaneous. And yet…
There it was.
Upon their return, Gunther gave her a tour of his apartment, though Jane thought a more accurate description might be a mansion in the sky, and this impression was fully confirmed when he led her up a set of stairs she had missed in her previous exploration.
"You have a second story? Isn't that a bit ...much?"
"Intimidated?"
"Very."
"Oh how the tables have turned," he said, giving her a slightly smug look… but then he shook his head. "Don't be - I only have part of it - the rest is partitioned into guest suites for my family's use when they visit. Which is often."
He led her into a wide open space. One whole wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the room with natural light. The floors were hardwood, polished to a high sheen, cut lengthwise by two long strips of padding.
Jane gasped in unmitigated delight. "You have your own fencing room?"
"Yes, but it also doubles as a ballroom when we need a smaller venue, for private family parties."
"You never said you fenced. Why didn't you mention it when you I told you I did?"
"I thought maybe you wouldn't believe me - you had already accused me of pandering - and besides, I was hoping I'd be able to show you in person."
Gunther walked over to the far wall and grabbed two foils off the rack. "Up for a spar?"
"I don't know… someone's really tired out my..." Jane ran her hands over her hips and rear, "...everything."
Gunther smirked and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips before leaning to whisper teasingly in her ear. "It sounds as if you are afraid of losing."
"Hardly - but I don't have any gear."
"In the locker on the right."
"You just happen to have a set of women's gear on hand?" Jane smiled as she pulled out what she needed. "I see your game - you might not be an escort, but you are a scoundrel. You lure women into your lair - into the deep, dark depths of your dork hole - with the promise of showing them your sword."
Gunther colored, the tips of his reddened ears peeking out of his ever so slightly too-long hair. "Only you - though I suppose the idea has merit." He gave one of the foils he was holding a few experimental swipes, as we waited for her to take the other one from him. "I strongly suspect such a tactic would only work on the most select, most astoundingly discerning group of women. I'd have to be spectacularly lucky to even run into such a rare and beautiful creature - I imagine they're less common than dragons - and then I'd have to be smart enough to capitalize on the opportunity."
Jane hummed appreciatively. Flattery was going to get him everywhere…
Except to an easy victory on the fencing floor. There was principle at stake, after all.
Gunther pulled on his own gear over his head. "Actually, it belongs to my cousin Lavinia - you'd like her I think - we never miss an opportunity for a match when she's in town." He watched Jane shimmy into the padding with a slightly lascivious grin. "She's a bit of an adrenaline junkie - but she has to be more careful now."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes. She married into royalty. She's a princess, you know."
Jane shook her head in disbelief. "Holy fuck, what have I gotten myself into?" She pulled down her face mask and settled into a defensive stance.
"Funny - I spent most of last evening asking the same thing."
"Har - you'll need better offense than that if you want to win. En garde!"