Room Service, Please Ruin Me

An MM Contemporary Romance
by Jace Wilder

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Pairing: MM

Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno

Length: ~80,000 words

Tropes

• Fake Dating
• Snowed In / Forced Proximity
• Enemies to Lovers
• One Bed
• Celebrity Chef x Hotel Manager
• Competence Kink
• Praise Kink
• Food as Foreplay
• Caretaking / Hurt-Comfort
• Control / Surrender
• Who Takes Care of the Caretaker?

The chef burned dinner. The hotel manager might burn down the rest.

Lucas Wynn has spent ten years making The Halcyon House perfect.

Every thread count. Every cocktail ratio. Every guest greeted by name. His historic boutique hotel is one flawless weekend away from the investment deal that makes it his — until a celebrity chef’s festival dinner ends in a kitchen fire, a viral evacuation video, and a blizzard that locks them all inside.

Chef Rafael “Rafe” Moretti is a lot of things. Careful isn’t one of them.

He’s charming. He’s reckless. He cooks like a man possessed and argues like it’s foreplay. And when a travel-show camera catches him holding Lucas in a dark hallway, the internet decides they’re the love story of the season.

The network wants them to play along. Lucas needs the publicity. Rafe needs the press to stop calling him a disaster.

Neither expects the arrangement to include one suite, one king bed, midnight meals that feel like seduction, and the terrifying realization that they’re much better at the real thing than the fake version.

You’ll love this book if you enjoy:

✅ Control-freak hotel manager who hasn’t let anyone take care of him in years
✅ Celebrity chef who’d rather feed you than talk about his feelings
✅ Fake dating that gets real FAST
✅ One suite with not enough beds and too much tension
✅ Food as foreplay — every meal is a seduction
✅ Praise kink, competence kink, and caretaking that wrecks you
✅ Heat 5/5 — graphic, explicit, emotional, multiple scenes
✅ HEA guaranteed

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⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes, multiple positions and dynamics, praise kink, semi-public encounters), strong language, a kitchen fire incident, depictions of burnout, workaholism, and emotional neglect. Themes of professional pressure and the commodification of personal relationships. Intended for readers 18+.

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Chapter One: Check-In Is at Three, Disaster Is at Six

The napkin was wrong.

Not visibly wrong — not to anyone who hadn’t spent a decade learning the language of folded linen. But the left point of the bishop’s mitre sat a quarter-inch below the right, and the crease along the base hadn’t been pressed with enough conviction, leaving it soft where it should have been architectural.

Lucas Wynn fixed it without breaking stride. Three fingers, two adjustments, a final press with his thumb along the spine. The napkin snapped into alignment like a soldier called to attention.

He moved to the next table. Checked the stemware angle against the candlelight. Shifted a water glass one centimeter left so the etched Halcyon crest caught the flame. The reflection threw a tiny, perfect H across the white tablecloth, and something in his chest released by a fraction.

“Lucas.” Mara appeared at his elbow, tablet in hand, headset curving around her ear like a piece of modern jewelry. “The Beaumont party wants to switch from table nine to the window. Again.”

“They can’t have the window. The Okafor-Reids are at the window and they’ve been confirmed since November.”

“She’s looking at a hand-painted mural commissioned in 1923 by the architect who designed the building. It’s valued at four hundred thousand dollars.”

“Don’t phrase it as a correction. Frame it as a discovery. ‘Mrs. Beaumont, you’re actually seated beside the most photographed artwork in the hotel’s collection. Most guests request that table specifically.’”

Mara typed without looking up. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”

“I’m hospitable.”

She snorted and disappeared back toward the events office. Lucas continued his circuit.

Three hundred and twelve decisions, made over six months, refined over six weeks, triple-checked in the last six hours. All leading to tonight.

That was about to change. The investors arriving tonight represented the last real chance at the equity deal Lucas had been chasing for three years.

And there he was.

Rafael Moretti stood in the cold evening air beside an idling SUV, directing two of his people with the confidence of a man who had never once wondered whether he was taking up too much space. He was tall — taller than Lucas by a couple of inches — and built like someone who worked with his hands and didn’t bother lying about it. Broad shoulders, thick forearms, the kind of physicality that read as kinetic even when he was standing still. Dark curls fell across his forehead. His chef’s coat was black, sleeves shoved to his elbows, and both forearms were sleeved in tattoos.

He was laughing. Of course he was laughing. A full, open sound that carried across the loading dock and hit Lucas somewhere behind the sternum like a fist wrapped in velvet.

Lucas was not going to be chosen by a smile. He had a hotel to run.

“Chef Moretti. You’re fourteen minutes late for your sound check, and I’m told you’ve brought supplemental ingredients despite a fully provisioned kitchen.”

Rafe’s grin didn’t falter. He studied Lucas with unhurried interest, like a man reading a wine list he intended to order extensively from.

“Lucas Wynn.” Rafe extended a hand. His grip was warm and firm and his palm had the roughened texture of someone who handled fire for a living. “The legendary GM. I’ve heard about you.”

“Fourteen minutes, Chef.”

The first course was about to be served. The festival had begun.

Everything was perfect.

For now.

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The Wine Cellar — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon

Three months into long-distance. Rafe arrives for his first quarterly residency. They don’t make it past the wine cellar. Counter sex, tasting notes whispered against skin, and the filthiest, most joyful reunion in the series. Heat 5/5.

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