18. Ro
Chapter 18
Ro
G od, this day felt like it was never going to end.
My headache was back. I’d had so many calls regarding the Maldives deal and it was still teetering on the edge of collapse. Tristan had flown to New York to meet with the players in person. I’d thrown my weight around via video calls.
I wanted it. I’d hate to see it fail.
Failure was never an option.
I turned to slam a flurry of punches into my punching bag. It swung under the fury of my hits. I’d come up to the penthouse for a late afternoon workout, hoping that would decrease my stress and help me fight off the damn headache.
My cellphone vibrated on the coffee table. I pulled one glove off and lifted the phone. A voicemail from my father. I deleted it without listening.
Then I went back to punishing the bag. My punches melded into a steady rhythm and soon I felt sweat soaking my T-shirt.
The only bright spot in my day was dinner with Tessa tonight. My body tightened with anticipation.
There was a knock at my door. I raised my voice. “Come in.”
I heard a beep, then Caden and Piper walked in. We’d had several meetings while I boxed. They were used to it.
“Hey, I have good news and bad news.” Piper sank gracefully onto the couch in front of me.
“Good news first.” I took off my gloves, then grabbed a bottle of water and chugged. Snatching up my towel, I wiped my face and neck.
“The good news is the Langston Paris renovations will be finished next week.”
“You are a goddess, Piper. But also a sharp-toothed piranha who rips her prey to pieces and leaves no prisoners.”
She smiled.
“No, she’s a wolf,” Caden countered. “Because she stalks her prey first, taunting them with their upcoming demise.”
She buffed her nails on her shirt. “You boys say the sweetest things.”
I dropped into an armchair, hating that my head was still throbbing. “And the bad news?”
“I’m going to kill the head of maintenance.” She scowled. “I think I can hide his body in the woods, if I can drag him that far.” She crossed her long legs. “I did up a memo about no flannel shirts and jeans being worn as a uniform. He laughed at me.”
I controlled my smile. Barely. “This is a small mountain town, Piper. Pick your battles.”
She let out a huff.
I glanced at Caden. “Do you have anything new for me?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.” And from the look on his face, he wasn’t happy about it. “Nothing happened today, at least. There were no pranks, dead animals, or attempts on your life.”
I pressed my fingers to my temple. “That’s something, I guess.”
“You’ve got a headache,” Piper noted. “Maldives?”
I nodded. “Tristan’s working on it.” I paused. “I’m taking the evening off.”
Piper blinked. “You are?”
“Yes. I’m having dinner here in the penthouse.”
Caden’s lips twitched. “With your lovely hotel manager?”
Piper gasped. “Ro, no, don’t tell me you’re sleeping with her.”
Caden snorted. “That ship has sailed. Surely you haven’t missed the raging sexual tension?”
“I’m not planning to do much sleeping,” I added.
My COO groaned. “This is an HR nightmare.”
“I don’t care.”
“I expected this from your father, but never you.”
I stiffened.
Piper’s face changed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’re nothing like your father, Ro.”
“They slept together at the masquerade,” Caden added. “Without knowing who each other was.”
She shook her head. “Okay. Well, just make sure she knows that it’s temporary. Don’t let her fall in love with you. Or your bank account.”
“Tessa’s not like that. And we have ground rules. No expectations.”
Piper made a sound then rose. “I just don’t want to see you sued for sexual harassment.”
“It’s fine, Piper.”
She waved a hand. “I’m off to my room to raid the minibar.”
Caden inclined his head. “I’m installing a few additional cameras to tide us over until we do the upgrade.”
After they’d left, I showered and changed. My headache was still there, but not getting worse, at least.
My phone dinged and I saw a message from Tessa. I scanned it. Damn . Her bar manager had called in sick, and she was filling in for the evening shift.
I shook my head. I don’t think any of my other hotel managers would fill in a shift at the bar. She’d asked if we could make dinner at nine PM.
I was about to return her text when I decided to head down and tell her in person.
As I entered the Bluff Bar, I ignored the throb in my temple. The bar had dark walls, elegant leather armchairs and stools, and cool lighting that ran across the dark ceiling. The place had an almost Art Deco touch of glamor to it, and behind the long, glossy bar were backlit shelves stacked with top-shelf bottles.
It was busy. Most of the chairs were filled and people were cradling drinks, and talking and laughing.
A loud burst of laughter made me turn. A group of men and women, in their late twenties, were seated by the window. Tessa—in black pants, a gray shirt, and a black vest and tie, was serving them. As one guy grabbed her wrist, she stilled.
My gaze narrowed. Yeah, the guy liked what he saw. I took a step in her direction, but then I watched her deal with the situation. She stepped back with a smile and a shake of her head. The smile was polite, but distant. Then, she headed back toward the bar.
I slid onto an empty stool at the end.
“Good evening.” From the other side of the bar, she smiled at me.
“Hey,” I said.
Her smile dissolved. “Headache again?” she asked softly.
I nodded. “I had lots of calls. Some good, some bad, and some rage-inducing.”
“The glamorous life of a billionaire hotelier.” She set a coaster down in front of me, then a complementary bowl of roasted nuts.
“Yeah. Endless meetings, decisions that affect so many people, lots of paperwork.”
“And headaches. Let me get you a drink.”
She turned away and I watched her expertly mixing things. She shook everything up in a shaker, then poured it into a long glass.
I sipped. “There’s no alcohol in this.”
“No. You want your headache to go away, not get worse. It’s a special drink blended with a bunch of fruit juices and ginger. It’ll help the headache and hydrate you. And—” with a flourish she set some pills down on the bar—“ibuprofen.”
“I’ll run through your stock.” I reached for her hand. She tangled her fingers with mine.
“I don’t mind. I’d prefer you look after yourself and didn’t push yourself so hard.”
I swallowed the pills. When was the last time someone had worried about my health?
Never . That was a depressing thought.
“I have a demanding job. It comes with the territory.”
She made a face. “You can do the job without running yourself into the ground, Langston. Delegate. Take a few breaks.”
“I’ve deals to close. Work that needs me present and focused.”
She met my gaze. “You do your job well, Ro. Everyone sees that. You’re not your father. You don’t need to push so hard to prove that.”
I just stared at her. Someone farther down the bar called for a drink. She held my gaze for another beat, then moved down the bar to see to the order.
I ran my finger through the condensation of my glass, thoughts churning. Was I pushing too hard? Everything I did was to make Langston Hotels a success.
But was my father—or rather, how I felt about him—still dictating my choices without me realizing?
Tessa returned. “So are we still on for a late dinner?”
I met her gaze and realized my headache was already feeling better. “Yes.”
She smiled. “Then I’ll see you in about an hour, Mr. Langston.”