Chapter 5
KYLIE
After changing five times, I settled on a simple black sheath dress and cinched it with a black belt.
I covered it with a cropped white cable-knit cardigan, something I had purchased once I realized how boring my normal wardrobe had become after five years with the bureau.
The shoes were standard issue and surprisingly comfortable and stylish–black leather pumps you could wear to meet the president or to run down a murderer if the situation arose.
I grabbed my purse and phone and headed down to meet Patrick.
He stood near the concierge desk, speaking to two gentlemen in matching Quadrangle guard staff uniforms of black slacks and black polos.
The gold Quad logo stitched on the left chest. They each had firearms on their right hips, holding their phones.
The practically invisible earpiece fascinated me.
I wondered if they had to be turned on or if it was continuously broadcasting?
Did it record? Would I be required to wear a uniform?
Patrick spotted me, nodded and waved me over while finishing his conversation with the two gentlemen.
The corner of his mouth turned up in an attempt at a smile, but he stopped it.
His eyes darkened as if he had to steady his resolve around me.
Professionalism was the name of the game.
Even though the dark suit he wore appeared painted on his muscular frame.
It made my heart flutter. He was back to clean-shaven, and his hair was styled and tame. The man was gorgeous.
“Kylie.” He held out his hand, and I shook it. “Good to see you. Allow me to introduce you to Cody Martins. He is the head of Josh’s detail. And Jerry Enoch, the head of security at Quad II.”
“Nice to meet you both.” We shook hands.
“Welcome to the team.” Cody was an older gentleman with a friendly smile and an easy way about him. He was shorter than Patrick, but bigger and fitter.
“We are still negotiating, but I’m looking forward to working with you.” I nodded.
Patrick's eyes narrowed at our exchange. But again, got over it quickly.
“Yeah, so get that report to me by the end of the day.” Patrick addressed Jerry and walked away.
It took me a second to realize, and I scampered to catch up with him.
It gave me an unobstructed opportunity to see him from behind.
He had a firearm tucked into the back of his black slacks, which hugged his ass and leather high-top tennis shoes.
His blondish-brown hair was slightly wet at the back, and in his wake followed the scent of a freshly showered man.
I inhaled and sighed. His looks gave off protective vibes.
His smell, a bonus for those who got to be close to him.
I guess he was in the right job. It was noon, so he’d either just woken up or he’d worked out and showered right before our meeting. Not that it mattered, but the idea of Patrick showering did funny things to my insides.
Geez, Kylie. Get it together.
We strode across the lobby of Quad II and down a hallway toward Quad III.
I had to double-time it to keep up with him.
Plus, I hadn’t spent a lot of time in Quad III.
The entire complex was luxurious, but Quad III had a fancy gloss on everything, a good mix of extravagant modern and ostentatious old-world Las Vegas.
Speaking of ostentatious, Patrick’s offer was beyond generous.
As he promised, it arrived in my room this morning, delivered in a large, stiff white envelope by another gentleman in uniform.
He introduced himself as Sam, but before I could engage him in conversation, he smiled, gave a slight tilt of his head, and left.
The offer included money, an allowance, and an expense account. The standard benefits I expected from a private international billion-dollar company. There were a few surprises, like the use of an apartment on-site, a decorating allowance, a moving allowance, and a car.
A car. My goodness. No wonder their people are so loyal. I guess money talks.
This would be a dream offer from anyone but the Grants.
We stepped into the elevator. Patrick pressed his finger against a scanner before pressing the PH button.
“I thought we were going to lunch.”
“We are.”
I watched the elevator number ascend. Penthouse in Quad III.
I knew who lived there.
The elevator stopped at the top floor and opened into a long hallway. “Come on.”
Patrick walked down the hall, his shoes sinking into plush beige carpet that was a world away from the dizzying patterns on every other hotel floor.
Artwork covered the walls every few yards, and a metal sculpture of a samurai sat on a pedestal halfway down.
I noticed two other doors before the end of the hall, which contained a small entryway leading to decorative double doors in dark mahogany with brushed brass door knockers and knobs.
Oddly, it felt as if the hotel had been built around the fancy entryway and doors.
Like beyond it was a magical world and not just the CEO of the most powerful hotel conglomerate in the United States.
I trailed behind Patrick, taking it all in.
He stopped at the door and turned toward me.
“We don’t want to keep Mr. Grant waiting?”
Mr. Grant
I stopped in my tracks. “I thought we were meeting to talk about the job.”
Patrick walked back toward me.
“Kyler is very interested in hearing your ideas, and this was the only time he had this week to meet with you.” Patrick frowned at something on his phone and put it in his pocket. “You should feel lucky; most employees never get this type of one-on-one time with the boss.”
“But I haven’t accepted the job yet.” I hugged the envelope in my arms. “And I haven’t signed anything.”
“It’s just lunch, Kylie.” He smirked. “I doubt we’ll be revealing any company secrets over Chinese food.”
I swallowed the pool of saliva in my mouth.
“You will be fine.” He grinned and proceeded toward Kyler’s door. “He’s only half as scary as he looks.”
That was scary enough for me.
Before we reached the door, it cracked open. Half a face and one pigtail peeked out before a voice bellowed, “Rayna, come back here.”
Rayna squeaked and shut the door. “They’re here.” Her voice faded as if she were being carried away.
Patrick reached up to place his thumb on a scanner by the door. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled his hand back.
“Don’t we need to knock. Are we interrupting something?”
Patrick looked down at the hand on his sleeve. I released it and dropped my hands to my sides. The envelope suddenly felt heavy. I switched hands and stepped back a foot.
Patrick touched the panel and then reached for the doorknob. He pushed it open, and we stepped into the apartment. Kyler Grant’s apartment.
The entryway led into the living room, with a dining table and kitchen to the left.
Through the floor to ceiling windows, I spotted the balcony which ran the length of the apartment.
The Vegas Strip sat across the desert in the distance.
The table set for four places was covered with an array of paper containers with the logo of the casino’s Chinese restaurant stamped on the side. It was my favorite spot on the grounds.
I took in the rest of the place. To the left, down a hallway was a single closed door. The hallway to my right contained a couple more doors.
Patrick walked around the table. He adjusted a plate at one setting and a knife at another. “Kyler had a pressing matter that needed his attention, but he’ll be here in two minutes. He asked us to wait.” He looked at his phone again and meandered over to the floor to ceiling windows. I joined him.
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” I whispered.
“Do you feel intimidated?” He whispered back.
Fuck yeah! I was intimidated. I was in the penthouse apartment of the infamous Kyler Grant.
A billionaire with assets and resources all over the world.
A busy morning for him was buying a building.
He had more enemies than friends and the FBI in his back pocket.
My breath labored. I closed my eyes and inhaled, counting to four in my head, and then exhaled four. I did that a few times, but when I opened my eyes, Patrick stood with his mouth slack, staring down at me.
Before I could speak, a door opened and shut behind me.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Kyler’s booming voice entered the room before his imposing frame.
His signature scowl seemed a little more relaxed.
I guess it was hard to maintain his normal level of intensity all the time.
His home was where he probably felt the most relaxed.
Although, truthfully, he still looked like he could use some meditation. Was Kyler Grant into yoga?
“Please have a seat.”
“Where’s Rayna?” Patrick asked.
“She’ll join us in a minute.” He rubbed his hands together before pulling the chair out for me. “Ms. Stands, please.”
I sat down and stared at the array of food. I spotted a few of my favorite dishes.
“I heard you were fond of Mr. Chow’s,” he said, sitting at the head of the table to my right. “Let me know if we missed any of your favorite dishes.”
Patrick sat to my left.
Kyler grabbed his plate and spooned some items from a few dishes. Patrick did the same. I followed suit.
“Make sure you try the sweet and sour lobster before Rayna gets here, or there won’t be any left.” Kyler chuckled. Patrick smiled at the inside joke.
I took a big spoonful of the lobster, an egg roll, and finished my plate off with the vegetable fried rice. As I brought my first bite to my mouth, Rayna came around the corner and into the main room. She smiled in my direction but stopped in front of Patrick.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Uncle Patrick.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“It’s okay, Rayna.” He patted her on the back. “You know you’re not supposed to open the front door.”
“I know. Sorry.” He patted her back once more, and then she let him go. She walked over to Kyler.
“Sorry.” She laid her hand on Kyler’s shoulder for a few seconds. He gave her a pat on the bottom.
My insides melted. The sweet gesture, seeing Kyler Grant be tender, confused my brain, but made my insides turn to mush.
“You’re forgiven, Ninja. Have a seat.” He stood and pulled her chair out.
He adjusted her closer to the table and grabbed the napkin near her plate.
With a flourish, he snapped the fabric open and placed it on her lap before grabbing her plate and filling it with half of the remaining lobster, rice, and a heap of garlic broccoli.
He kissed the top of her head and handed her a pair of chopsticks.
“Rayna, you remember, Kylie?” Patrick asked.
“Yes, of course. Nice to see you again.”
“How was your movie last night?” I asked, watching her facial expressions for any signs of distress or embarrassment.
“It was so good.” She giggled. “I want to go see it again. Maybe you can come next time.”
“Maybe,” my agreement was soft. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to suppress her little or if it was her default personality trait hovering between the two. She seemed so comfortable in her own skin, or maybe that’s what Kyler required of her.
Either way, she charmed everyone she met. Including myself.
“Where’s Tinley today?” I asked and ate. I barely suppressed a moan as the flavors exploded on my tongue.
Rayna took two pieces of lobster and stuffed them into her mouth.
“Tinley has class,” she said around the food.
Kyler placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t talk with your mouth full; you’ll choke.”
She pouted, but then stopped herself and smiled up at me and adjusted her chopsticks.
The table remained quiet for a few minutes.
Rayna continued stabbing pieces of sticky fried lobster with the ends of her chopsticks and eating them one by one.
She rocked back and forth as she ate, like a self-soothing child.
“Kylie.”
I gasped and jumped in my seat. Kyler’s voice startled me.
“Yes, sir.” I didn’t recognize the tone of my own voice. At the FBI, they would never have hired someone sounding so meek and unsure of herself. I cleared my throat. “I mean, Mr. Grant.” A bit of timber had returned.
“Why did you leave the FBI?”
Obvious questions Patrick had already asked. I gave him the same answer. “I was limited at the FBI. They weren’t using me to the best of my ability.” I affirmed this and picked up my fork.
“You feel your skills will be better utilized at my organization.”
Rayna squeaked but dropped her head. A smile played at the corners of her mouth. He peeked at her, then returned his attention to his plate. He had yet to look at me.
“To be honest, Mr. Grant.” I adjusted in my seat to face him. “I didn’t ask for a position with your organization. Patrick came to me.”
The room fell silent.
Across the table, Rayna’s eyes grew wide, her chopsticks frozen in midair.
I imagine she didn’t see many people confront Kyler Grant.
But at least it got Kyler to look at me.
He set down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth with a black cloth napkin.
He leaned back in his chair, his hands dropping to his sides.
His eyes remained on me, boring into my soul.
The imaginary weight of his stare made a vein in my neck twitch.
I struggled to keep his gaze while fighting with myself not to react. Instead, I stood my ground.
“I hope you enjoyed your time here at my hotel.” He shifted his chair back. “I understand your vacation is coming to an end. Patrick, arrange for a car to take Ms. Stands to the airport when she’s ready.”
I blinked and scooted my chair back. The sound of it scraping against the marble floor made my neck muscles seize.
He bent over and whispered something in Rayna’s ear. She nodded slightly, and then he turned and walked away.
Rayna stuffed the last two pieces of lobster into her mouth, wiped her face, and stood up.
“It was nice seeing you again, Kylie.” She waved and pouted. “Safe travels.” She skipped off after Kyler.
I stared off to where both disappeared down a hall at the back of the apartment.
“What the heck just happened?” I turned towards Patrick. With a sigh, he pressed a hand to his temple. He slowly stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
“What did I do?” I stood up and held out my hands. “What? Is no one supposed to challenge the great and powerful Kyler Grant, even a little?”
“Why do you feel the need to challenge us?” He walked toward the door. “We’re not at war with you.”