Page 3 of Hollywood Crush (West Wales Romance #2)

Tudor

“What the fuck do you mean by demands , idiot?” said the little lady stood at reception with nails that looked like they could scratch off the varnish that I’d so carefully applied to the counter.

I’d hardly noticed her thus far, I was so enraptured with the man stood next to her.

He had olive-tanned skin and dark brown hair that was perfectly coiffed hair despite the rain.

Stubble played around the edges of his cheeks.

His eyes were a deep dark brown like the mahogany of the worktop.

He wore an expensive looking linen shirt and jeans that hugged every inch of him from ankle to arse.

I wanted to take him back to my room and blow his mind.

I tore my eyes away from him to focus on the woman. “I asked, what do you mean, demands? ” she screeched again.

“Sorry,” I replied as earnestly as I could. “Just that film crews have very exacting standards, all those big personalities you know.”

“And they have the right to!” The woman looked furious. Shit . They were part of the film crew .

“So sorry madam, let me show you both around the hotel. I’m sure you’ll find that we’ve renovated to an exceptionally high standard in anticipation of your arrival.”

And we had. For the most part. But the advance pay for the filming had only covered so much, so reception had been left till last when the bedrooms had such particular demands.

“No, no, no. I want to see your manager. No, screw that. I want to see the owner of this hotel and have you reprimanded — no, fired — for speaking to a star in the way you just have. Don’t you know who he is?”

I hesitated, looking between the lady and the man — of course he was a film star and not just crew with those Hollywood good looks of his.

He hadn’t jumped to my defence yet, but then again if he was friends with this woman he could hardly be the nicest of people.

When I looked at him he bit his lip as if to stop himself from saying anything.

I realised if I wanted this situation to go anywhere, I would have to take control. I was always, always in control.

“Thing is,” I replied when it was apparent the woman had stopped speaking, “I am the owner. Tudor Morris, at your service.”

“Of this dump? I’m not surprised. Don’t be surprised if the film crew leave the second I warn them about this place.”

“Sandra.” The man’s voice was low and demanding as he spoke for the first time. “I need you to stop. Thank you for picking me up. Don’t you have more to do today?”

“Well, um, yes. I guess I’ll be going. Don’t think I won’t fight for better accommodation for you. I’m not having you stay in this place for long. Don’t want you to catch anything.”

And with that, Sandra — I presumed that was her name — turned on her heel and strutted out.

“I presume you must be Mr Ellison?” I said to the man as she left. “Only, it seems you’re not booked in until tomorrow. Same day the director is meant to arrive.”

“Oh, please God tell me you have a room ready for me. I don’t have anywhere to stay otherwise.” Mr Movie Star Daniel Ellison looked genuinely worried, so I gave him my best reassuring smile.

“No worries, we’ve got a room made up for you and luggage arrived yesterday. Follow me.”

Before leading him up the stairs I gestured to the doorway on the right of reception.

“The bar is through there. I think the production company are doing their own catering but as no one told us you were arriving so soon I can get some grub rustled up for you tonight.” I pointed to the door on the other side.

“And through there is staff accommodation, but if you follow the hallway to the end and down the stairs to the basement you’ll find the gym.

State of the art.” It had cost the last of our renovation bill too being requested so last minute, but the crew would hopefully bring more money in with future series and we’d have plenty of tourism if the show was half as successful as the books it was based off.

The producer who I’d first spoken to called it the Lord of the Rings effect, and if we were one tenth as successful from this show as parts of New Zealand had been from Lord of the Rings we’d be in for a treat.

We walked up the stairs, Mr Ellison just behind me, all the way up to the second floor.

“Room 302,” I said. The keys had been left in the doors on this corridor as there were no other guests at the hotel for the entire weekend and it had been easier to make sure the clean up was completed.

I stuck my head in to make sure Llywelyn, our renovate, hadn’t left any paint or DIY materials behind.

“Welcome to your room,” I said. It was one of the nicest, with off-white walls and crisp white sheets, a new king size bed and artwork above it.

Off to one side was an en-suite with a shower and bath separate.

The whole thing still smelled faintly of paint.

The producers had been very exacting of the standards expected for actors, producers and directors.

The rooms for the crew, though nice, just hadn’t been allocated the same exacting specifications.

The luggage which had been shipped in ahead of Mr Ellison had been left at the foot of the bed.

“Thank you, looks…comfy,” said Mr Ellison.

“Is there anything else you need?” I asked .

“No, all good. When is dinner?”

“Whenever you like, Mr Ellison. It’s just you tonight, I’ll set up the dining room for you and you can just pop your head in and let me know when you’re hungry.”

“Sure thing, thanks,” he replied. I turned to leave but he coughed gently. “Please call me Daniel.”

◆◆◆

I walked through the foyer into the dining room, behind the bar and into the kitchen.

My mother was sat in there with a cup of tea and scrolling her phone as usual.

All the chrome cooking surfaces and utensils had been polished til they gleamed.

“And where have you been? I told you we needed to get this place cleaned before they move the caterers in.” She hadn’t lost her Scottish accent despite living here for a number of years.

“A guest arrived early, Mam.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Early? Well why didn’t you say? I need to set up a room for them, they can’t be left out on the street! You don’t know how important this is!”

“I’m well aware of how important it is. He’s the main star, I know that.

So let me handle things, as I do own this hotel.

” Somehow, despite her having passed ownership of the hotel to me some years ago, my mother still liked to think I was some kind of incompetent.

“I’ve put him in the master suite as reserved. ”

“Does he have towels?”

“Yes.”

“Clean bedding?”

“Yes.”

“A dressing gown?”

“Mam, we haven’t offered dressing gowns since the 90s.” I patted her shoulder. “I have things covered.”

“Well what are you going to give him to eat this evening, huh?”

“I…I have that covered too.” I felt a bit less confident with that statement, but knew we had a fresh supply of burgers from the butchers’ and buns from Glyn’s Bakery in the village. “Grab the sourdough for me, will you?”

My mum obliged and I got to work on the griddle. I had some fancy cheeses in the fridge that I’d been keeping back for a cheeseboard and enough potatoes to sink a small ship.

I cooked three burgers on the griddle, topped them with a spicy cheese and chopped and fried the chips in oil.

After taking the burgers off and letting them rest to the side, I sliced and toasted the sourdough bread over the fat from the burgers.

Much as I loved running the hotel, cooking was what really brought me alive.

I was good at it and it brought me joy even when the timings stressed me out.

“So,” said Mum as I fiddled with the presentation. “ Which of the actors is it?”

“Daniel Ellison,” I replied.

“Oh, the handsome one? The one they say goes for boys and girls?”

“Yes Mam, that one.”

“Well you better not go trying anything on. There are plenty of men here in the village.”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“Look at Llywelyn! With that boy from London. Won’t last.”

“Not everyone is like you and Dad, Mam,” I said. I regretted it instantly, but I hadn’t liked what she was insinuating about my best friend and his partner. “Sorry. What I mean to say is…not all men from out of town are arseholes.”

“I know, cariad ,” she said, adopting the Welsh I wasn’t sure she had even noticed had become entwined with her strong Scottish roots. After all Dad had done, leaving us with this place, I didn’t blame her for being at least a little bit wary of strange men with big ambitions.

“Though…” Mam pulled out her phone again, shoving it in front of my face. I tried to focus on it as I cooked but it wasn’t until I was finished with my cooking and had sat everything aside to rest that I could take her phone myself to have a look.

“Jesus Christ,” I said. It was an Instagram with over 200,000 followers.

Specifically, Daniel Ellison’s. The picture she was trying to show me was him in some kind of magazine shoot, all hairless muscle and charisma stood underneath a shower.

He was in white Calvin Kleins which were soaked through just enough to tempt me to zoom in.

He had abs that looked like steel and broad shoulders and big forearms that looked like they could crush boulders.

His boxers looked like they were packing some serious weight too.

I went to zoom in on them, then remembered Mam was still looking over my shoulder.

Running a hotel, even an empty one, had its downsides.

With the amount of time it had been since I had chance to get out of town and to the clubs…

I was thirsty. But still, no use in signposting that.

“Nice enough,” I said as nonchalantly as possible before passing the phone back to Mam.

“Nice enough? He’s bloody gorgeous! Just keep your hands off…” Mam tailed off as a cough alerted us both to someone else in the kitchen.