Page 7 of Hollywood Crush (West Wales Romance #2)

Tudor

The previous two weeks had been very, very busy.

Despite the extra help we had from the new catering staff, Mam and I were still the only staff in the hotel to carry out most of the tasks.

We still had to clean and polish through all the corridors and communal areas and change the bedding and provide fresh towels every few days.

The crew had been mostly alright to work with and didn’t have too many demands, but our top floor guests — the directors, producers and actors — were another story altogether.

Despite how busy we had been I still had one particular thing or person on my mind.

Daniel Ellison had thus far proved to be an enigma.

Amongst all the actors, he had requested the least, but had so far confined himself to his room almost completely.

Once filming had started he would leave his room and head directly to the waiting car, and once it had ended he would have his meals brought up from the caterers.

Each time I had seen him he looked a little bit more drawn and tired.

On the first day of filming his stubble had disappeared and had yet to make a reappearance.

I couldn’t help but feel a gravitational pull toward him despite the obvious dislike he had for me.

I hadn’t questioned it though if we’d met down the pub I’d have called him out for it and possibly offered to take him outside to sort it man-to-man.

But I was representing my hotel and the customer service we could offer.

I wasn’t here to make enemies, I was here to make money.

So I had given my best customer service smile and left his packages outside his hotel room door each day rather than have him confront a face he obviously didn’t like the look of.

Despite that, I had surreptitiously followed him on Instagram.

I was sure he wouldn’t notice out of over 200,000 followers that there was one more.

And he probably couldn’t pick me out of a crowd on a normal day anyway.

It was just me with this weird obsession.

The most recent photo he had posted was an announcement of his involvement in the series, where they had scraped back his hair, added prosthetics and covered those lovely brown eyes with inky black contact lenses.

“When was the last time you took an hour off to do something you wanted to do?” Mam asked as we finished scrubbing down the reception counter late one night. Luckily the caterers had taken full responsibility for the kitchen and diner, although that meant…

“You know I like cooking, Mam. Otherwise all I do is work. And as they’re using the kitchen…”

“Then go and use that fancy new gym you had installed. Anything to get you out of that mopey mindset.”

“I haven’t got a-” I started. Mam cut me off.

“I didn’t say it to start an argument, now go. I’ll finish up here.”

“Thanks Mam.”

I ran to my bedroom to get changed into my workout gear and then to the gym.

Truth was, I had been itching to use the gym.

My old gym equipment had been dying a slow death before the production had sent a demand for a particular calibre of equipment.

So far I hadn’t known any of the actors or crew actually use it.

I closed the door behind me and headed down the corridor to the gym.

It was in an old and hardly used basement level of the hotel which I’d recently freshly painted white and had my friend Llywelyn help install new strip lighting in to help it look more like the modern gym expected of the cast and crew.

I got to work immediately, feeling rusty after having not exercised properly in a few weeks.

I got underneath the barbell and started lifting.

I loved the feeling of strain and effort that exercise gave me and soon enough after a few reps I was sweating.

I really should have thought before putting the gym in an almost windowless basement , I thought.

There seemed to be no way to get cool, but with sweat pouring off me I actually felt like I was accomplishing something.

I looked around the room as if someone could be hiding in the corner and ripped my vest off, draping it over the bench I’d been using.

It felt good to be shirtless and in action, so I turned to the punching bag.

I hit it over and over again until my knuckles stung and my arms ached.

Sweat poured over my forehead and down my face, and I reached for my vest to wipe it off.

My eyes were covered with the fabric when I heard the door open.

“Oh, sorry,” said a familiar voice. One that ran over itself like honey. That Hollywood voice.

“Oh, shit, no, sorry. Um,” I tried to cover myself up with the balled up vest but that didn’t quite work. Daniel was also in a vest, one which showed just how muscular he was. His shoulders were wide and round and his arms looked like they had been sculpted from marble.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” said Daniel. He gave me a tired smile. “Mind if I join you?”

“Well, I was just leaving…” I said.

“Oh. Sure.” I couldn’t tell why, but he looked annoyed.

“Actually, I have some more stuff to do. Mind if I stay?”

Something imperceptible flashed in his eyes as he nodded. I just couldn’t work the man out.

“Have you been down here yet? I didn’t think any of the actors or crew were using the gym,” I said.

“Nah. But I’ve got shirtless scenes coming up later in the week. Figured I better start the cut now,” he replied.

“I didn’t think you would need to,” I replied without thinking. I tried to look him over as subtly as I could — yup, that vest was pretty firmly clinging to those abs — but the smirk on his face suggested he had caught me. “Guess you’re quite used to people looking.”

“Like a prize cow at a farmer’s market, me.”

“Seriously, I can leave you alone if you’d rather the privacy,” I said. I wasn’t sure I could stand to work out next to him without jumping his bones.

“I’d rather the company. Spot me?” Daniel took a couple of extra weights, added them to the barbell and laid back on the bench that I had been working out on previously .

I walked to the end of the bench where his head lay and helped him to lift the big barbell off the hooks. To my surprise, he chatted between laboured breaths.

“Good…place you…have here,” he said, veins bulging in his arms and at his temples.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve put a lot of time into it.”

I could see that Daniel was struggling with the weight so I hooked my hands underneath him and helped him return it to the bar.

He lay there for a minute panting. I was acutely aware of his position, how close his face was to my crotch.

How if he wanted, and I wanted, I could shed my gym shorts now and take his mouth.

Daniel’s gaze drifted upward like he was thinking the same thing and I could feel myself hardening in my shorts.

I turned around and made a show of getting us both drinks from the water dispenser.

I handed Daniel his and angled my body a little bit away from him as I tried to get my own body under control.

After a couple of moments of silence as we both drank and I desperately thought of Margaret Thatcher to aid me in my efforts.

Daniel moved on to one of the weight machines so I didn’t need to help him. I took a seat and watched him anyway under the pretence of being on a break between sets.

“So,” he said, distracting me from watching his arms flex forward as he pushed against the weight. “How have you found looking after a million divas this week?”

“Fine,” I replied. I tried to think of a diplomatic way to frame my answer so he wouldn’t think I was outright lying.

“You can tell the truth. Marjorie is a fucking nightmare isn’t she?”

“The peroxide blonde old lady in room 306? Honestly, yes,” I replied.

Daniel laughed. “They like to say that people like her have done their time, honed their craft so we should respect them. I think they’re all puffed up arseholes who need less smoke blowing up their arse. You should see the way she speaks to camera people…”

My mind flashed back to Daniel’s off-putting comments on the state of Wales. It wasn’t quite as bad, but I thought he wasn’t a million miles away from the other actors. Maybe just one big role away from divadom.

“I’ve said something, haven’t I?” Daniel broke me out of my deep thought.

“What? No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I’ve worked with enough professional liars over the years to know when people are acting in front of me.

” Daniel smiled encouragingly even as he grunted with the weight he was pushing away from his chest. He let the weight fall back and stood up, turning to one of the machines that required he face away from me.

“You know what? When I was little and learning lines, my Mum would turn away from me so I didn’t get too nervous saying them in front of her. I’m going to do the same.”

He leaned forward — away from me — to grab the weights in front of him to pull them toward him.

My eyes drifted downward to an arse perfectly formed in his exercise shorts, but I forced my gaze toward and away from him.

“It’s just…” I started, knowing I was crossing a line by letting a customer know my personal gripes.

“When you first came here. You seemed nice. And that was cool, I thought actors would be more…well, Marjorie. But then you threw in a casual insult at Wales. And that wasn’t cool.

Made me feel a bit less than, made me feel like no matter how many big name actors we get through these doors, next year you’ll be at Comic-Con saying how awful a time you had here or making sheep-shagging jokes for a couple of laughs, and we’ll still be here. Struggling to pay the bills.”