Page 46 of Double Down
Which is how I’m playing a game of hide and seek with someone who doesn’t know he’s playing with me.
Finally, I spot him in one of the offices in the business center. Technically, it’s open to all guests. But since it’s the middle of summer and Wi-Fi is available in the rooms, it’s usually empty.
I have to admit, even after growing up in this resort, I’ve never been in these rooms. The one Con is using as his office is surprisingly luxurious, the walls a warm wood tone, the chairs plush and comfortable.
One long polished wood conference table dominates the center of the room, and smaller work carrels built into the sides of the room provide a semblance of privacy for others who might need to get some work done. A wet bar hosts a coffee station, where a pot has just finished brewing what I’m guessing is Cons’s second pot of the morning.
His laptop is open on the table, and contracts are spread out over the table alongside a plate with crumbs. At least he’s eating, which is more than I can say for Atticus at this point.
Con, dressed in a three-piece suit tailored to his body, his cell phone pressed to his ear, is pacing in a tight four-foot circle at the head of the table.
Against the wall across from him is Zeus, laying on his back with his feet up in the air. If his tongue wasn’t rolled out and his little dog snores the sound of a grown man’s, I’d think he was dead instead of passed out.
Maybe it wasn’t Storm who absconded with him after all.
The second I walk in, Con’s eyes shoot to me, slowly roaming up and down my body and sending tingles over my skin.
I ignore them and move to get his coffee cup and refill it, preparing it the way I know he likes.
Black, two sugars.
When I set it down, he mouths the wordsthank youand goes back to his argument with the laundry service, trying to get a bulk discount for combining the linens from housekeeping with the linens from the restaurants.
I want to help him. I just don’t know how he’ll let me.
There are so many contracts scattered over the desk, each with a different heading and page numbers at the top. I busy myself by stacking them in neat, ordered piles.
When Con gets off the phone, he moves to stand behind me.
“What do you think you are doing, princess?”
Somehow the word doesn’t feel like an endearment. My hands shake a little as I answer, and I will them into firmness.
“Trying to clean up a little. Shouldn’t your father’s secretary be helping with this? She should be able to do–”
“My father let her go. He said that I need to do this on my own, without a nanny looking over my shoulder.”
“So hire your own secretary,” I offer the easiest solution imaginable.
“And what would a secretary do for me?”
There’s something dangerous in his eyes, begging me to engage, to try and tell him what to do. I know I should walk away, give him space when he’s worked up like this, but I give him the answer anyway.
“I’ve never been a secretary, so I wouldn’t know every single thing. But it would be their job to help you. Take care of your office? Find you an office if you refuse to use your father’s, so that you’re not just taking space in the business center. Maybe they’d schedule appointments, or get whatever you need for your next call? Talk to the managers and see if they know of areas that could be cut or areas for improvement within the resort?” My mind races with ideas.
“And what would the managers suggest?”
“I don’t know,” I say, then I think about it for a moment. “Maybe combining a few of the other deliveries. Like the kitchen crews, spa, and hotel all need different supplies, but we all order from the same vendor, so maybe if the orders were combined, it would at least save on the delivery fee?”
“Is that so?” He leans on the table, crossing his legs and his arms as he looks down at me. “What else?”
“I don’t know…” I rack my brain, and I come up blank. He’s too close to me, which is making it kind of hard to think. His cologne is playing tricks with my memory, swirling with my synapses, making me think of everythingbutwhat he just asked me.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to concentrate. A conversation I overheard while cleaning the spa floats up in my memory, and my eyes pop open. “I got it! Maybe switch to using the same reservation system? The resort is fine, but the one for the spa crashes a lot. And if they were on the same system, people book spa appointments at the same time they book a room, and it could increase the?—”
My words are cut off when he takes my mouth like it owes him interest. It isn’t sweet. It’s a verdict and judgement that he’s claiming all at once. He pins my chair with one hand on the armrest and the other caging my jaw, and I feel the second he stops arguing with me and starts arguing with the part of himself that hates needing anyone, let alone me.
When he finally breaks the kiss, I’m breathing his name and forgetting what I said and why.
