Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
A lex stomped into his office, carefully set down the box with Rochelle Richardson s cake topper, then flung himself into his chair. His chest felt tight, and his neck was still sweaty from the effort of holding in his anger as he fought Friday afternoon traffic on the drive from the Forzas shop to his hotel.
One by one, he cracked the knuckles on his left hand. Then he repeated it on his right hand. The practice usually soothed him, but today it gave him no relief. Holding in this much anger couldn t be healthy. He was too young for a heart attack.
Though he canceled most of his appointments with his therapist, he remembered a helpful exercise she d taught him. He blew out his frustrated breath, then drew in a long, cool one through his nose, visualizing it as a light blue gas that he held in his lungs for a count of four as it slowly turned from blue to pink. Then he exhaled it from his pursed lips, slowly, for another count of four.
By the time he d repeated the exercise four times, his head felt cooler, and his pulse no longer hammered at his neck.
Goddamn therapy, he muttered as he glanced down at his desk and the neat stack of printed emails and letters Yasmin had prepared for him. He usually went through the mail right after lunch. He d opened the package from Ray Richardson, holding his breath like it was a bomb. He d thought the gaming board president might have sent a snarky representation of his chances of buying the Paradise, like a plastic bag full of water to represent his snowball s chance in hell. But it contained only the cake topper and a terse note: Rochelle asked me to send you this. He d rushed to Mary s office like a giddy fool.
Why had he gone to her place of business and poked the bear? Showing Rafe those humiliating photos had filled him with the glee of retribution, especially when he remembered the last time he d seen her brothers together, when Michael s fist to his stomach knocked the breath out of him right before Rafe s left hook smashed his nose. Twenty years later, he still remembered the sickening crunch.
He might have started the drama to put that meathead, Rafe, in his place, but he couldn t deny that it was Mary who pushed him past the safety barrier. He d been aroused at the sight of her bathed in the shop s cheap track lighting, her brown eyes ablaze with righteous fury.
He was like one of the gamblers on the casino floor who d lost every dollar in his pocket and begged for a few hundred in credit to get back on Lady Luck s good side. He d let dopamine and adrenaline, not reason, take the driver s seat.
And now she d not only kicked him out, she d quit. He was well and truly fucked.
Doubly so, he realized as he scanned the first printed email. Yasmin had scrawled the word Important! across the top, which was saying something since she only printed the ones he couldn t afford to let trickle to the bottom of his inbox under the weight of all the urgent ones. It was a brief note from one of the gaming board members Alex had spent time cultivating into a friendly, who often shared insights from the board s discussions. The email noted that Richardson doubted Alex s commitment to collaboration with the big players on the Strip, citing the feud he d started when he d pulled that Pied Piper stunt to attract customers to La Villa.
Collaboration might be fine for someone like Mary Forza, but Alex had never played well with others. He d doubled down on self-reliance after his father destroyed the Villas reputation and Alex had to rebuild it from zero.
When he d opened La Villa, he d done what he must to draw gamblers from the flashy center of the Strip to the ass-end of it he d been able to afford. He wasn t trying to hurt anyone but to survive. Once people had discovered La Villa, he d cultivated it into a haven for gamblers and tourists looking for all the Vegas amenities on the more peaceful end of the Strip. La Villa was a sexy and elegant respite from the hawkers and showgirls and drunken revelry closer to the main action.
Not that there was anything wrong with the Strip. The Paradise presented the perfect opportunity for him to put his stamp on it. To bring the Villa elegance to it while embracing the glitter and glamor.
La Villa Prime would symbolize the end of his ten-year feud with the big players on the Strip. Once he d secured the Paradise, he d play nice.
Alex scanned the email again and caught something he d missed the first time. Mr. Richardson also noted your antagonism with Michael and Rafe Forza, upstanding members of the Las Vegas tourism community.
God dammit! It was like Richardson had a spy camera into Alex s brain. His hotheadedness had put not only Richardson s daughter s wedding in danger but also his bid to buy the Paradise and the redemption he d worked so hard for eighteen years to earn.
He had to convince the board that their interests were aligned. An email wasn t enough. He d have to prove it to them. And what better way than to make Rochelle Richardson s wedding the event of the season? No, he d make it the event of the year. He d show her father what he was capable of. Then Ray Richardson would finally believe Alex s purchase of the Paradise was good for Vegas.
He slid the email aside, revealing a large, cream-colored envelope. Yasmin had already slit it open but left the contents undisturbed. He pulled out a heavy card, a traditional wedding invitation.
Cierra Louise Dallencourt &
Sawyer Charles Leverton
invite you to share in their joy at their wedding
Saturday, August 9
at 3:30 in the afternoon
Semi-formal attire
So Cierra was getting married. Did women usually invite their exes to their weddings? It was a first for him.
He flipped through the inserts and paused at the reception card. It was deep red with a white swoosh across it that highlighted the black script.
Reception begins at 6:30, Desert Flower Country Club
Come at 5:30 to be entertained by an aerialist
Aerialists? Only in Vegas.
Alex wished he d thought of entertainment like that for the Richardson wedding.
Cierra was one of his more dramatic exes, so it was fitting she d bring pulse-pounding excitement to her wedding. He d been savvy enough to end their relationship in public, at a very expensive restaurant overlooking the city, after he d bought her a delicious dinner and the best bottle of cabernet in Vegas. It didn t stop her from tossing her wine in his face, ruining his suit, and screaming to everyone in the restaurant that Alex was a dog.
Maybe she d invited him to her wedding to supply additional entertainment.
No way would he let her humiliate him in public. Not with the Paradise deal on the line.
He checked the will not attend box on the response card and tossed the whole packet of invitation garbage into his outbox. Then he pressed the intercom button on his desk phone. Yasmin, he barked. Silence. Shit, it was after six. He switched to her voicemail. Send Cierra something nice for her wedding. A case of that pink Prosecco she drinks and a dozen champagne flutes.
A tentative tap made him look up. A slender, dark-haired man stood in the doorway, his posture ramrod straight, his wide brown eyes slingshotting Alex back to the day he d looked into the big, brown eyes of a toddler perched on his mother s hip when she d come like an avenging fury to their door. But the boy was grown…ish now.
Joey. Alex stood and circled his desk to shake his hand.
Mr. Villa, hi. You wanted to see me? A drop of sweat trickled from his temple.
Come sit. Alex waved his hand at his guest chair.
When they were both seated, Alex leaned back. How s your mother?
Joey blinked. Sh-she s fine.
You still live with her, yes? Alex waited for the boy s nod. And she s getting by? Your father s pension is enough for her to live on?
Yes, sir.
Joey and his mother didn t know it, but the pension was fiction. Although Alex and his mother had sold everything they had to pay back the principal people had invested in his father s scheme, he knew that wasn t enough to sustain Mrs. Campo and her three children long-term. As soon as he d been able to afford it, Alex had set up the pension with enough trusts and shell corporations in between that Mrs. Campo would never know it had come from one of the people she blamed for her husband s death.
Excuse me, Mr. Villa, Joey said, his voice trembling, are you firing me?
Firing you? Why would you think that?
Joey shrank back at Alex s outburst. Be-because you fired my boss?
No, no. Alex tried to chuckle, but tension tightened his throat. Now that Miss McAlister is gone, I m promoting you. To chief wedding planner. It even comes with a raise.
If anything, Joey s olive skin turned paler. Ch-chief?
Shit. Rochelle was going to eat the boy alive. Alex pinched the smooth bridge of his nose. He had no choice. His temper had gotten him into this mess, and with Joey s help, he was going to blast his way out of it.
Sure, he said. First order of business is the Richardson wedding at the end of July. I ll need you to take charge of that.
Joey s eyes grew impossibly wider. They were going to roll out of his head and onto the silk rug, and then who would coordinate the Richardson wedding?
It s going to be fine, Alex said. Though what was he going to do if it wasn t? Evie left a file, plus a playbook of how she plans weddings. Everything is in here. He passed the boy a tablet.
Joey glanced at it, but Alex could tell he saw nothing but his own fear.
Spend the weekend familiarizing yourself with it. Ask me questions. In fact, set up a weekly meeting with me, and we ll work through any issues together. Ray Richardson would never let him buy the Paradise if his daughter s wedding was anything less than dazzling. He d never get his redemption. In fact, better make it twice a week.
Joey s Adam s apple bobbed, then he let out a small cough. Yes, sir.
He scrambled out of his chair and was halfway to the door when Alex called, Joey?
Joey froze like a rabbit about to be flattened by a semi.
You forgot this. Alex waved the tablet.
Joey scurried back to snatch it from his hand and then disappeared faster than you could say, You re screwed, Alex.
He sank his head into his hands. This had to work. Sure, Rochelle had seemed to connect with Mary. But she was a lawyer who understood how business worked. She d accept the personnel change as the business decision it was.
Regardless, bad news, unlike wine, didn t improve with age. He d leave her a voice mail about the change in wedding planners, assure her that her needs would be met and her expectations exceeded, etcetera, and deal with any fallout on Monday. He pulled up his copy of Evie s file on the Richardson wedding and dialed the bride s number.
To his surprise—and disappointment—she picked up.
Hello, Rochelle. This is Alex Villa. How are you today?
Hi, Alex. Her voice was slightly muffled with wind noise. I m leaving work early for a change. I guess you re still in the office?
I am. He took a deep breath. I m calling to let you know we had a change in personnel. Our newly promoted chief wedding planner, Joey Campo, will be taking lead on your wedding. You can expect?—
Hold on. What happened to Mary? The wind noise disappeared, like she d rolled up the windows in her car.
Mary s fine. She s just no longer working on your wedding.
Why not? The two words hit his breastbone like rubber bullets.
We had a…difference of opinion. However?—
Are you serious right now? No. We are five weeks out from my big day. We can t afford to play around with this.
No one s playing. It s a simple change in personnel. Alex took a deep breath. Joey is a qualified?—
No. This is my one and only wedding. Mary gets me. I don t care about your difference of opinion. Get her back, or I will go full-on bridezilla on you. Understand?
He rubbed his tired, scratchy eyes. I don t know that she ll be willing to come back.
Nuh-uh. Listen to me. Tell her I asked for her. Tell her I need her. Remind her I am hormonal and pregnant. Her shaky voice had risen an octave.
Maybe you should pull over.
Don t fucking tell me what to do, Alex Villa. You need to work through your shit and get Mary back. Daddy didn t want me to work with you, but I insisted that you—that Mary— would give me a lovely wedding. Don t prove me wrong.
I underst— The line went silent.
Shit. It shouldn t have surprised him that Rochelle could be just as hard-assed as her father, but she d seemed so sweet when he met her at the expo. When Mary had been there to smooth everything over.
If he fucked up this wedding, he d never get the Paradise. Someone else would buy it, and he d die a little inside every time he looked at the shabby old high-rise, thinking of how he could ve finally destroyed the loathsome reminder of his miserable past.
He needed Mary back.
He scrubbed his hands down his face. The only option left was to grovel.