Friday I'm in Love: A Harem Adventure, page 1
Friday I'm in Love
A Harem Adventure
Vincent Vegas
Copyright © 2024 by Vincent Vegas
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Contents
1. One.
2. Two.
3. Three.
4. Four.
5. Five.
6. Six.
7. Seven.
8. Eight.
9. Nine.
10. Ten.
11. Eleven.
12. Twelve.
13. Thirteen.
14. Fourteen.
15. Fifteen.
16. Sixteen.
Coming soon.
Also by the Author
About the Author
One.
The older man sighed, running his hand through what was left of his hair. “Look, I couldn’t give two shits about this, but my wife…” His words trailed off as he accepted the aspirin and small cup of water from my hands.
I couldn’t blame him for getting upset, with years of saving for a family vacation collapsing in real-time. His reservation for two large connecting rooms had fallen through, and it was my responsibility as General Manager of the Langdon Orlando resort hotel to make things right.
As he paused to gulp down the aspirin, my eyes roamed over the crowded lobby. Gleaming brass and chrome accents winked at me from every corner, their sleek lines drawing my gaze across a vast expanse of black and white chevron-patterned marble. Soaring pillars, fluted and elegant, stretched towards a ceiling adorned with an intricate sunburst motif, its golden rays spreading outward in a frozen explosion of Jazz Age exuberance.
A steady stream of guests glided past, their conversations a gentle hum beneath the soft tinkling of a crystal chandelier cascading from the ceiling like a shimmering waterfall. Curved sofas upholstered in rich emerald velvet provided pockets of luxury amidst the bustle, their occupants seemingly shielded from the chaos around them.
“Where are we at on those two rooms?” I called over to Sam, who stood typing away at a computer behind the front desk. The twenty-one-year-old’s shoulder-length brown hair framed her face in soft waves as she bit her lip, blue eyes focused intently on the screen before her.
Samantha Blake lifted her eyes, a subtle shift in her posture revealing the gentle slopes of her sun-kissed cleavage, teasing like the rolling dunes of an untouched beach, barely contained within the unbuttoned confines of her crisp white shirt.
“I can do you one better,” she smiled, grabbing a tablet from the counter and making her way out towards us. Her legs, clad in black stockings, swished seductively beneath her short black skirt, while her heels clicked a steady rhythm on the marble — a siren’s call echoing with each step.
As Sam approached, the scent of cherry blossoms wafted through the air, and it took every ounce of self-control not to pull her into my arms and taste the sweetness I imagined lingered on her lips.
“All right, Mr. Denton, this is the Adventurer’s suite,” Sam announced as she swiped through images of the lavish accommodations on the tablet. “Three bedrooms, two baths, plus a sleeper couch in the main room. Basically, you could fit an army in here. It should be more than enough to fit your family, and there’s even a great view of the theme parks.”
“It looks incredible,” Denton admitted, turning his gaze back to me. “How much are you asking to upgrade to that?”
“No, no,” I smiled. “The upgrade will be complimentary, of course.”
His eyes widened, disbelief etched across his face. “And it’s ready now?”
That’s when a new female voice chimed in. “It should be ready in fifteen minutes.”
Lifting my gaze, I saw Cerina Valenti approaching — a vision in blue that seemed to draw all light towards her. The twenty-two-year-old’s wavy brown hair cascaded around her shoulders, each strand catching the glow of the chandeliers overhead.
Cerina’s entrance was a study in grace, every stride accentuating the ripples of blue fabric that clung to her voluptuous figure, while the plunging neckline of her dress enticed with glimpses of jiggling tan cleavage. Her luscious legs seemed to go on for miles, tapering to delicate feet encased in heels that revealed her white-painted toes.
It honestly seemed like Cerina grew more beautiful each time I laid my eyes on her. I’d first met her three years ago, soon after I began working for her father, Nico Valenti, who owned the Langdon chain of hotels and much, much more. From our first embrace, I had fallen hard for her, but I knew better than to mess with the boss’s daughter.
Since she had taken over as my front desk manager a little over a year ago, we’d become the perfect team, working seamlessly together day in and day out. Still, with each passing day, the lines between professional admiration and personal longing had begun to blur, smudged by the shared glances and subtle touches that colored our interactions, and I often wondered if she ever felt the same magnetic pull that threatened to upend everything we’d worked so hard to maintain.
Cerina gestured off to the side with a graceful sweep of her arm, enveloping us in a wave of her rose and vanilla perfume. “Go round up your family and meet our people back by the atrium. They’ll take care of you from there.”
Denton seemed momentarily stunned by her beauty, but managed to stammer, “The atrium? I don’t know where that is.”
Sam leaned back against the front desk, patting the counter beside her. “Why don’t you bring your family back here, and I’ll show you the way.”
“Yes. Thank you,” Denton sighed, relief flooding his face.
Cerina handed him her card with an elegant flourish. “This is my card. Hold on to it, and let me know if you have any more issues. Also, since I know you’d like to keep your wife happy, I’ve added a little note on the back. Dinner for two at our rooftop restaurant Cielo D’oro, on the house. And we’ll get you a table by the window so you two can see the fireworks.”
Sam leaned in. “That’s Amelia Rosseau’s place. You may have heard of her; she won Kitchen Maestro a couple years back.”
Denton shook his head, even as a smile spread across his face. “I don’t know who that is, but I’m sure my wife does. Wow, I’m actually blown away right now.”
I extended my hand, grasping Denton’s firmly. “Orlando is a competitive market, so we want to do whatever we can to keep your business.”
“Well, you have,” he nodded. “I’m gonna tell my friends all about this.”
I smiled. “We appreciate that.”
Then Denton glanced at Sam. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sounds good,” Sam concurred, smiling after Denton as we watched him leave.
As Sam stepped back behind the front desk, my eyes returned to Cerina. “You look fantastic.”
Cerina’s smile was pure temptation, her hands skimming down the fabric of her dress. “It’s all for you, Johnny.”
“You sure it’s not for today’s walkthrough with your dad, or for our meetings later with the Bastion leadership?” I laughed, dreading the upcoming conference.
She giggled, then gave me a little wink. “Nope.” Then her attention shifted to her phone, fingers swiping across the screen. “You do have to hurry though. Dad’s already up at Ami’s place.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there,” I nodded, retreating behind the front desk as my hand brushed Sam’s shoulder in passing. “We’re still meeting at the gym later?”
Sam’s smile was like a ray of Florida sunshine. “You know it.”
I moved over to the small chessboard on the counter, studying the pieces intently. “Now let’s see what you’ve done to me.”
Sam leaned over on her elbows, her ample cleavage spilling out from her white blouse, betraying her sumptuous tan lines. The memory of her bare breasts flooded my mind, making it difficult to concentrate as I recalled her perfect little pink nipples.
“Nothing much. Moved my knight to f6 to defend my pawn,” she shrugged, her cherry blossom scent teasing my senses.
I mulled over my options. “So you’re going for the Petrov defense.”
Cerina peered over the front desk, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement. “Looks more like she’s going for the boob defense.”
Two.
I stepped into Cielo D’oro, where the early afternoon sun streamed through towering windows, offering unparalleled views of Orlando’s skyline from the Langdon’s 25th floor.
Inside, the light danced across polished marble floors, casting prismatic reflections that skittered along stark white tablecloths and glinted off polished silverware. Waiters in crisp linen moved with balletic grace, weaving between tables with trays held high, laden with jewel-toned salads and aromatic dishes that left vapor trails of garlic, lemon, and herb-infused olive oil.
The open kitchen pulsed with kinetic energy — copper pots swung, flames leapt in controlled bursts, and chefs’ knives flashed in a hypnotic rhythm. A sommelier pirouetted past, wine bottle in hand, its deep ga
rnet liquid catching the light like a precious stone. The air buzzed with the soft clink of glasses, the murmur of satisfied diners, and the occasional burst of laughter, all underscored by the faint strains of bouzouki music that transported me to the sun-drenched shores of the Mediterranean.
My eyes scanned the establishment until they settled on Nico Valenti, my boss, seated at his usual table by the window, gesturing for me to join him.
Distinguished and imposing, Nico was the kind of man whose very silhouette told stories of power — a silver mane crowning his head, a tailored suit accentuating his muscular frame.
As I approached, Amelia Rousseau rose gracefully from her chair beside Nico, her long blonde hair swaying around her shoulders, and I struggled to keep my heart rate steady. The twenty-four-year-old wrapped her arms around me in a warm embrace, and I inhaled deeply, savoring the delicate scent of orange blossoms that clung to her skin.
“Johnny,” she murmured, her breath tickling my neck.
“Ami,” I responded, pulling back slightly to take in the sight of her.
Ami’s black blouse strained against her gorgeous curves, leaving little to my imagination and everything to desire. Her matching skirt ended just past her knees, teasing a glimpse of her toned legs that led down to sandals and pink-painted toes.
“I missed you,” she confessed.
“Believe me, I missed you more,” I replied, unable to keep the grin off my face. Flirting with Ami had become second nature; it was how we communicated. She had an uncanny ability to make words sound as delicious as her incredible dishes, and the result always got me hard.
Then my gaze shifted to Nico’s plate of pasta. “What have you got there?”
Ami’s green eyes sparkled. “That’s the Bucatini with red clam sauce.”
Nico gestured down with his fork, adding, “It’s got some bacon in here too.”
My mouth watered at the thought. “That sounds amazing.”
A smile spread across Ami’s full lips. “I’ll whip you some up in the back.” She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before walking away — a fleeting touch that lingered far longer than the moment itself.
I finally tore my eyes away from her retreating form and took a seat across from Nico. “Why’d you want to meet me up here? I’ve got those reports you wanted back at the office.”
Nico waved away my concerns. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”
That’s when Cerina glided to my side, carrying a large silver tray topped with an equally impressive silver cloche.
I furrowed my brows as she set the tray on the table before me. “What’s this?”
“I know an easy way to find out,” Cerina giggled, encouraging me with the playful tilt of her head.
Sighing, I lifted the cloche to reveal an immaculately wrapped yellow gift box, adorned with a red ribbon and bow.
Nico beamed at me. “I heard it’s your birthday.”
“Well, close enough,” I admitted. “It’s on Sunday.” Then I looked up at Cerina, who was leaning back on the table top and looking smug. “You told him?”
“Guilty,” she confessed with a mischievous smile.
Nico frowned. “Why didn’t you ask for the time off?”
A sigh escaped me, rubbing the back of my neck. “The Bastion group will be here on Monday. I figured I’d just take the time off later.”
Cerina laughed, shaking her head. “But you never do.”
“Plus, I hear you’re staying here around the clock now, even sleeping on the couch at the Casita,” Nico added. His words made me grimace, memories of all the late nights and crashing at Cerina’s on-property residence flooding my mind.
“Only once a week,” I lied, hoping my face wouldn’t betray the truth.
Cerina laughed. It was more like three nights a week, at least, but it had its advantages. Staying close to the hotel made it easier to keep an eye on things — and more importantly, it meant staying close to her.
My gaze flickered back to Nico, uncertainty coiling within me. “Am I in trouble?”
He chuckled. “You will be if you don’t start opening that gift.”
My fingers traced the edges of the gift box, anticipation building within me as I popped off the top. A bronze key gleamed inside, a little gold tag attached to it by a string.
“I don’t get it,” I murmured, picking up the key and examining the tag more closely. It bore just one word: Serenova.
My eyes grew wide, and I glanced at Nico. “Sir?”
“Wrap up whatever you’ve got going on, and then go home and pack,” he smiled. “Tomorrow I’ll have someone pick you up at your place, and drive you down to Horizon.”
Horizon Key Largo, the seaside resort Nico also owned. I had never been there, but I’d only heard incredible things.
Nico leaned forward. “I want you to spend your birthday weekend at the Serenova, my personal residence there.”
“What about the Bastions?” I shook my head.
He chuckled. “I’m very capable of handling that.”
“Of course,” I nodded.
That’s when Ami moved the silver tray aside and placed a steaming plate of Bucatini down on the table. Her nimble fingers found their way to my shoulders, kneading them gently as she leaned over me. “What’s going on here?”
“We’re sending Johnny on a birthday weekend to Horizon,” Cerina smiled.
Ami’s green eyes widened. “Oh shit, Johnny. I didn’t realize it was your birthday.” Then she glanced up, catching sight of a waving hostess across the room. She patted my shoulder affectionately. “Have fun,” she murmured before dashing off to attend to her duties.
Nico’s eyes narrowed on the open gift box. “Is the card there?”
Cerina’s brown eyes widened in panic. “Dammit, I forgot.” That had to be a lie. Her memory was impeccable.
“Card? What, like a birthday card?” I frowned.
“No, a hotel card,” Cerina shook her head. “One you can use to pay for your meals, or the spa if you like. Basically anything on property.”
Nico’s smile grew as he added, “We’re covering everything.”
I sank back into my seat, overwhelmed by their generosity. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you’ll go,” Nico shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, of course I’ll go,” I chuckled, still in disbelief over this incredible gift.
Cerina leaned over and hugged me, her billowing tan cleavage coming dangerously close to my face. “I have the card at the Casita.”
“I’ll swing by around 6:30 after I hit the gym,” I nodded, turning back to Nico as she pulled away. “Thank you.”
“It was her idea,” he laughed, gesturing towards Cerina.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “If you’re happy, Johnny, then I’m happy.”
Three.
Sweat dripped from my brow as I put down the heavily-weighted barbell, taking a moment to stretch my aching shoulder. The hotel gym buzzed with motion — a symphony of whirring machines and rhythmic breaths — while the air was thick with the sharp scent of disinfectant mingling with the earthy musk of exertion.
Rows of treadmills lined the far wall, their users a blur of motion against the backdrop of floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city beyond. To my left, the free weights area was a colorful mosaic of neoprene-coated dumbbells and vibrant yoga mats. A woman in electric blue leggings held a perfect plank, her form reflected in the mirrored wall before her.
In the corner, a personal trainer guided his client through a set of kettlebell swings, their movements a fluid dance of power and control. The staccato rhythm of a jump rope slapping against rubber flooring punctuated the low hum of conversation and the muted thump of bass from someone’s earbuds.
My eyes finally landed on Sam, gracefully ascending an endless staircase on the stair climbing machine beside me. One step at a time, the relentless climb had her huge breasts jiggling within her black sports bra, the fabric stretched taut and valiantly fighting to contain the massive swell of her sun-kissed cleavage.
It was the undulation of her bouncy ass in those tiny gym shorts, however, that utterly ensnared me — a hypnotic sway that captured my focus with each single step.
