The Billionaire who forgot me

2

Jennifer’s POV

“I’m telling you, that man is ridiculously handsome.”

I rolled my eyes as I entered the staff lounge.

It wasn’t even eight in the morning, and the women were already discussing Grayson Sutton.

Again.

“I saw him coming out of the elevator yesterday,” one of the receptionists said. “He looks even better in person than he does in pictures.”

“Too bad he’s so rude,” another replied.

“I can tolerate a little rudeness for that face.”

The women burst into laughter.

I walked toward the coffee machine, pretending I hadn’t heard anything.

“Good morning, ladies.”

“Good morning, Miss Monroe!”

Their conversation immediately stopped.

I poured myself a cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, Maya chose that moment to enter.

“Jennifer, have you seen our billionaire guest this morning?”

I sighed.

“Please don’t start.”

She laughed.

“What? I’m just asking.”

“You’ve been asking about him since yesterday.”

“Because he’s gorgeous.”

“He’s arrogant.”

“Those two things can exist together.”

I gave her a look.

Maya grinned.

“Come on. You have to admit he’s attractive.”

I took a sip of coffee.

“I have work to do.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

“Maya.”

“Fine, fine.”

She raised both hands.

But as I turned to leave, she added, “If he smiled occasionally, he’d probably be perfect.”

I almost laughed.

Grayson used to smile all the time.

Not the polite smile he gave reporters.

A real smile.

The kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

I remembered how he used to sneak into my parents’ kitchen and steal food before dinner.

How he once burned pancakes so badly that my mother banned him from touching the stove.

And how he would wrap his arms around me from behind whenever I was cooking.

What happened to you, Grayson?

I shook my head.

It didn’t matter.

The man I knew was gone.

And the one staying in our presidential suite was nothing but an arrogant billionaire.

⸻

By ten o’clock, I had already dealt with three guest complaints, a delayed food delivery, and a housekeeping issue.

I was reviewing the week’s bookings when my office phone rang.

“Jennifer, we have a problem.”

It was Maya.

“What happened?”

“Mr. Sutton’s assistant called. Apparently, there’s an issue with the presidential suite.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course there was.

“What kind of issue?”

“He said the air-conditioning isn’t cooling properly.”

“Did maintenance check it?”

“Yes. They said everything was working when they inspected the suite yesterday.”

“Then send someone upstairs to check again.”

Maya hesitated.

“That’s the problem. His assistant specifically requested that you handle it.”

I stared at the phone.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Does he think I’m the maintenance engineer?”

Maya laughed.

“Apparently, he thinks you’re responsible for everything.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Try not to murder him.”

“No promises.”

I ended the call.

Honestly, what was wrong with that man?

Yesterday, he complained about the conference room.

Now it was the air-conditioning.

At this rate, he’d probably complain that the ocean was too noisy.

I grabbed my master keycard and headed upstairs.

The presidential suite occupied the entire top floor of the hotel.

When I reached the door, I knocked.

“House management. Mr. Sutton?”

No answer.

I knocked again.

Still nothing.

I checked my phone.

His assistant had mentioned that Grayson had an early business meeting.

Perhaps he had already left.

I knocked a third time.

“Mr. Sutton? This is Jennifer Monroe, the hotel manager.”

Silence.

I called reception to confirm whether he had left the building.

The receptionist explained that his security team had gone downstairs earlier, but she wasn’t certain whether Grayson had accompanied them.

I sighed.

I should have waited for maintenance.

Instead, I used my master keycard.

The lock clicked.

“Mr. Sutton? I’m coming in to check the air-conditioning.”

I stepped inside.

The suite was quiet.

Sunlight streamed through the enormous windows.

I walked toward the thermostat near the sitting room.

It was set to eighteen degrees.

I frowned.

The room was practically freezing.

What exactly was he complaining about?

I adjusted the settings and turned toward the bedroom.

That was when I heard a door open.

“Who the hell are you?”

I froze.

Grayson Sutton stood in the bathroom doorway.

Wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist.

Oh.

My.

God.

Water droplets covered his chest.

His dark hair was wet.

And his broad shoulders looked exactly the way I remembered.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Four years ago, I had seen this man without a shirt more times than I could count.

I knew the small scar near his collarbone.

I knew how his hair curled slightly when it was wet.

I even remembered the way he used to complain whenever I stole his towels.

And now he was standing in front of me, looking at me like I was a criminal.

“Are you finished?”

I blinked.

“What?”

His eyebrows rose.

“Staring.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Really?”

He glanced down at himself.

“Because your eyes seem to disagree.”

I wanted the floor to swallow me.

I quickly turned away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Clearly.”

“I knocked several times.”

“And when nobody answered, you decided to let yourself in?”

I swallowed.

“There was a maintenance complaint concerning your air-conditioning.”

“So you thought entering my private suite without permission was the appropriate solution?”

His tone was becoming sharper.

I turned back toward him, carefully keeping my eyes on his face.

“Mr. Sutton, I announced myself before entering.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Because you were in the shower.”

“Exactly.”

I clenched my jaw.

This was ridiculous.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. I’ll arrange for maintenance to inspect the system later.”

I started toward the door.

“Stop.”

I turned.

Grayson was watching me with an expression of pure irritation.

“Is this how your hotel normally operates?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do your employees regularly enter occupied suites without permission?”

“No, sir.”

“Then explain why you thought it was acceptable.”

I took a deep breath.

“Because your assistant reported a problem, and I was trying to resolve it.”

“By invading my privacy?”

“I’ve already apologized.”

“That doesn’t change what happened.”

Something inside me began to boil.

I had spent the last twenty-four hours trying to remain professional.

I had swallowed his rude comments.

Ignored his cold attitude.

Pretended that he was just another guest.

But there was only so much I could tolerate.

“Mr. Sutton, with all due respect, I’m doing my job.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Your job doesn’t include walking into my room whenever you please.”

“And your wealth doesn’t give you permission to speak to people however you please.”

Silence.

The words escaped before I could stop them.

Grayson stared at me.

“What did you just say?”

I lifted my chin.

“I said being wealthy doesn’t mean you can treat people badly.”

His expression hardened.

“Are you lecturing me?”

“No. I’m reminding you that hotel employees are human beings.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh.

“Interesting.”

I folded my arms.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Do you speak to all your guests this way?”

“Only the ones who make it necessary.”

His eyebrows rose.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Grayson stepped closer.

“Miss Monroe, I pay a considerable amount of money to stay in this hotel.”

“And we appreciate your business.”

“Then perhaps you should learn to behave accordingly.”

I smiled tightly.

“Perhaps you should learn that respect works both ways.”

His jaw tightened.

I knew I was pushing my luck.

One complaint from Grayson Sutton could cause serious trouble for the hotel.

But I was tired.

Tired of pretending his words didn’t hurt.

Tired of looking into those familiar gray eyes and finding absolutely nothing.

Not even a hint of recognition.

“Is there anything else, Mr. Sutton?” I asked.

He stared at me for another moment.

“No.”

“Wonderful.”

I turned toward the door.

“Miss Monroe.”

I stopped again.

“What?”

“Next time, wait until someone answers before entering my suite.”

I forced another smile.

“Of course, sir.”

Then I walked out.

I marched down the hallway, furious.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unbelievable.

Four years ago, this man used to beg me to stay in bed with him for another five minutes.

Now he was acting as though I’d committed a crime by seeing him in a towel.

And the worst part?

He hadn’t recognized me.

Not even when we were standing less than two feet apart.

I pressed the elevator button repeatedly.

“Stupid billionaire,” I muttered.

The elevator was taking forever.

I folded my arms and stared at the numbers above the doors.

“Arrogant, rude, impossible man.”

I heard a faint sound behind me, but I was too angry to care.

“Honestly,” I whispered, shaking my head.

“Asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

My entire body went cold.

Slowly, I turned around.

Grayson Sutton was standing in the doorway of his suite.

He had changed into black trousers and a white shirt, although the top buttons were still undone.

His arms were folded across his chest.

And his eyes were fixed directly on me.

Oh, God.

He had heard everything.

His expression was unreadable as he tilted his head slightly.

“Miss Monroe,” he said coldly, “would you care to repeat what you just called me?”