Page 137 of Release Me

“Just under two years, if my memory serves me accurately,” I tease. “You really need to get away from this place once in a while.”

“Not this week. Neither will you.”

“Yeah, Archie walked me through my calendar.” It’s rammed to the teeth with meetings and golf sessions—with journalists I need to smooth-talk, politicians I need to ass-kiss, and corporate big dogs I need to make feel special. I may as well book a room here if I want any sleep. “Where do you live, anyway?”

“Why? You want to come over later?”

I chuckle. And then I meet Belinda’s gaze, see the heat in it.Fuck me. I’ve seen that look before. She’s not joking.

“Need to talk to you!” Dorian charges in to join us, uninvited, but I’m thankful for the interruption. I wouldn’t know how to turn down Belinda without earning her wrath—I doubt she’s rejected often.

“It’s about the sprinklers.” A bead of sweat trickles down Dorian’s cheek and into his bushy mustache.

I briefly wonder if I can use the clean-cut employee policy to make him shave that broom brush off. “What about them?”

“They’re not working.”

“What do you mean, they’re not working?”

“I mean exactly what it sounds like I mean.” The attitude is thick with this one today. “They’re programmed to work during the night and the entire system in the front didn’t go off last night.”

“That’sa problem.” We’ve spent millions on landscaping, it’ssupposed to be eighty-five degrees all week, and we’re hosting guests in three days. We can’t greet them with wilted palms and brown grass.

Beside me, Belinda remains quiet. No help whatsoever.

“What are the engineers saying?”

“They’re on it. The sprinkler company is here too, but so far they’re stumped.”

“Okay. So, what do you want me to do?”

“You? Nothing. I’m letting you know, in case we have to get outside specialists in.”

Which I’ll have to sign for, and then I’ll get reamed out by head office. I already have a meeting request from them to discuss the golf course rework invoice our finance department approved. “I’m already over budget, thanks to that fucking moat on the green, so how about we see if these guys we’re paying salaries to can earn their keep before we bring in outside help? Give them the day. If they haven’t found the problem by tonight, then we move to plan B. And get the crew guys out there with hoses.” And I’ll replace these engineers with people who know how to fix fucking sprinklers.

Look at me, on a firing tear today.

“Already got the hoses out,” Dorian confirms. “Hey, what’s with your guy, Connor, callin’ in sick? Is that legit?”

“Yeah, he fucked up his knee yesterday. Doc said to stay off it for a day or two, plenty of ice, that sort of thing. We’re hoping it’s not something serious.”

“Oh, bummer.” Dorian frowns, appearing genuinely distressed. “He brings a good energy to the group. Hope he’s not suffering too much.”

I smirk. “I think he’ll be okay.” When I left the house this morning, Rachel was with him and, by the sounds coming through the door, doing a great job taking his mind off his discomfort.

“I’ll give you an update as soon as I have one.” Dorian stormsoff.

“That was less painful than usual,” I declare as we pass the mermaid fountain.

“You have good people working for you. Sometimes they just need to check in and you need to give them confidence that they’re making the right calls.”

“Or so they can pass the buck on making the wrong call.” Should I be scrambling to get outside people in to fix this? What if this ends up being an open-heart surgery nightmare on the front lawn of the hotel as reporters roll in?

“Have more faith in yourself, Ronan,” Belinda scolds. “You have a lot to learn but … you’re learning.” She adds after a beat, “Who knew you could?” As if paying me a compliment and leaving it at that is too much to handle for her.

I snort. “Love you too.”

“What’s happening with those golden tickets?”

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