She nodded and disappeared into his room.
Griffin scanned her bedroom. It was tidy despite the fact that she’d been interrupted out of the shower. Her knitting sat on the corner of the bed, clearly waiting for its owner to return. Nothing else seemed out of place, so he couldn’t see where someone had broken in. Furious, he went to the phone next to her bed and dialed the front desk.
“Ms. Meriweather,” the voice on the other end said smoothly. “What can I get for you tonight?”
“This is Lord Montagne Verdi,” Griffin said in his iciest, most austere tone. “Ms. Meriweather has an intruder in her room. I’ve locked him in her closet but I want security up here right away. Understand?”
“Absolutely, my lord! We’re sending someone up—”
He hung up. Across from him, he watched the closet doorknob turn, the man in there clearly testing it. The door rattled, and he heard a soft curse. Griffin moved over to the chair, straightened it, and then sat down, pinning the door shut with his weight.
And he waited for security.
Luckily, the hotel was prompt. A mere minute or two later, there was a quick knock at the door. “Security.”
Griffin got up from the chair and headed to the door, letting them in. “He’s in the closet.”
The security team extracted the man, who was clearly one of the paparazzi. The man babbled and tried to make excuses, but the camera in his hand—and the fact that he was hiding between Maylee’s ugly dresses—told the real story. They took him away and another man stayed behind to take down Griffin’s information. He told them what he knew, then glanced back at his room. His assistant hadn’t shown her face since the others had arrived. “Maylee? Can you come give this man your statement?”
A moment later, she stepped through the doorway of their adjoining rooms. Her hair was still wet, but had been finger-combed into loose, damp waves. She wore one of his button-up shirts, the hem of it grazing her tanned thighs. It was big on her, though when she moved forward, he saw the soft bob of her breasts under the fabric.
And holy Christ, she was sexy in his shirt.
Griffin clenched his fists, willing away the inappropriate surge of lust he felt at the sight of her. Those greenish-brown eyes were still huge and troubled, and when she stuck her hand out for the security officer to shake, he noticed it was still trembling. She was terrified.
Her fear made his protective instincts arise. He put a hand on her shoulder and tugged her closer to him, ignoring the security officer’s questioning look. As Maylee gave her statement, he remained at her side, and she seemed to relax a bit, toying with the too-long sleeves of his shirt as she spoke.
“He told me he wanted me to work with him,” she said in her soft drawl. “That he wanted the inside story. I’m guessing he wanted details on the wedding, or on Mr. Griffin. He said he’d pay me lots of money.”
“And what did you say to him?” the man asked.
She looked surprised. “Why, I screamed. I screamed and slammed the door in his face.”
Griffin smiled faintly.
“Thank you,” said the security officer once Maylee had given her statement. “We’ll turn this information—along with the intruder—over to the police.”
“What are you going to do to ensure this doesn’t happen again?” Griffin’s voice was cold, authoritative, and he gave the man a hard look. “I’m not keen on the idea of my employees being harassed while I’m staying at what is supposed to be a safe establishment.”
“Of course, sir—er, my lord,” the man said, and he looked embarrassed. “We’ll post a security guard on this floor in addition to the ones downstairs. You won’t be disturbed again.”
“See that we are not,” Griffin said.
“Thank you,” Maylee said in a trembling voice. “I appreciate it.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and Griffin noticed that the man’s gaze slid there.
“We’ll call if we need anything else,” Griffin said brusquely. With a nod, he indicated that the man should exit the room.
The security officer left, and Maylee shut the door behind him. Now, it was just Griffin and Maylee in her room. He kept his eyes on her face as she turned around, all soft and curvy in his shirt. Her round face looked exhausted, though she tried to give him a game smile. “I guess we’ve had our excitement for the evening,” Maylee said.
Griffin examined her face closely. “Are you all right?” She didn’t sound like her normal cheery self.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I feel like a ninny. Maybe I should have just talked to him instead of screaming my fool head off.”
“He broke into your room. You absolutely did the right thing.” He squeezed her shoulder.
She gave him a tremulous smile. “I guess.”
Griffin was already impressed at her trustworthiness. She hadn’t even considered giving details to the paparazzi. She’d immediately thought of defending his reputation. That kind of loyalty couldn’t be bought, no matter the price. He’d give her a nice bonus when they got home, he thought. But she still looked so troubled and that bothered him.
I need a hug, she’d told him when she was drugged up on the plane.
He considered her. She still seemed lost and small and lonely.
So he pulled her closer to him and gave her an awkward hug. It wasn’t his normal thing to do. He was terrible at comforting, in fact. But she’d wanted a hug in the past when she’d cried. This he could do, he supposed.
Maylee stiffened in surprise and then melted against him a moment later. She was all warm curves, and he was surprised at how good she felt in his arms. His hand rubbed her back, and he tried not to think about her being naked under the flimsy fabric of his shirt.
Then he released her. “Better?”
A giggle escaped her. “I have to admit, Mr. Griffin, I didn’t peg you for much of a hugger.”
“It seemed appropriate.”
She turned and looked at her room again, then bit her lip.
“What?” he asked.
The knuckle went back to her mouth, and she bit down on it. “I don’t feel safe. I’m sorry. Could you check my room for me?”
He relaxed. “Of course. Go wait in mine.”
She tensed again. “But . . . what if there’s someone in yours?”
She was in there earlier, wasn’t she? He didn’t understand this reluctance, but Griffin nodded and put an arm out, gesturing for her to move in. “Come here, then. Stay by my side.”
Immediately, Maylee trotted to him and moved under his arm. Her breast brushed against his side and her fingers went to the waistband of his sleep pants, as if she could somehow hold onto him in case he tried to escape her.
It should have been irritating. Griffin hated clinging, and he hated hovering. But . . . for some reason, having Maylee against his side, warm and soft and sweet, was rather nice.
Together, they checked out her room, opening up the wardrobes, going through every cabinet, the closet, and even checking under the bed. There was nothing. Griffin checked her front door again and tested the locks twice, then latched the chain. “From now on, you should keep this locked. You can just exit out of my room.”
She nodded at him. “Thank you.”
He glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late. You should probably head to bed.”
Her face went white again but she nodded, releasing him. Those soft fingers slid away from his waistband, and for a moment, Griffin felt regret, which was foolish. She was his assistant. A very temporary one.
“Thank you again,” Maylee told him, her voice soft. She gave him another smile, but it didn’t hold its normal brilliance. “I really do appreciate it.”