Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Naomi
A little before seven thirty in the morning, I reviewed the schematics overlays prepared for the blueprints of the Lykaios Incognito project. Whenever I entered any meeting, I checked and double-checked every fact.
One couldn’t fuck up when hundreds of millions of someone else’s money was on the line.
I pressed my fingertips to my temples. “Oh, the pressure,” I muttered to myself.
Henna Lykaios and Anaya Kipos would meet with me after the kickoff meeting this morning to finalize which of the sisters would manage the project on their end during the estimated three-year build-out.
Tarak and I had worked with each sister individually over the years on ventures ranging from resorts to restaurants, clubs, and shopping centers.
My specialty lay heavily in the realm of hotels and resorts, whereas Tarak preferred restaurants, clubs, and shopping centers.
This divided the work evenly between us.
Though I was the petite, short one, and he was the six-foot-five behemoth of a man, I somehow ended up on construction sites more than him.
I shook my head. I still couldn’t believe my baby sister had made a teddy bear out of my grumpy partner.
My phone beeped with an incoming message.
TARAK: How do you feel about the changes? I know you don’t like surprises like this.
Huh?
ME: I have no idea what you are talking about. I am in my office prepping for this morning.
TARAK: I get you don’t check your email before meetings to keep you in the zone, but sometimes it’s necessary. The memo went out thirty minutes ago.
ME: What memo?
TARAK: Check your email, and you’ll know.
ME: Fine. I reviewed the numbers in case they have questions. They are bringing in the finance people too.
TARAK: The memo is about one of the finance people.
My heartbeat picked up a notch.
ME: Please tell me they haven’t fucked with my budget. I can only take so much stress.
TARAK: Check your damn email. It’s about your new Lykaios counterpart.
Why would they send a memo about Henna or Anaya?
ME: I’ll check it later. I need to get my mind in the game.
TARAK: Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
ME: Okay, you warned me.
TARAK: Sidenote, have you won us some money for a new investment yet?
I almost laughed.
ME: I’ve been here less than forty-eight hours. Do you think I’ve had time to gamble?
TARAK: You won two hundred thousand Euros within two hours of landing in Monte Carlo, so don’t give me that crap.
ME: Why did I tell you that?
TARAK: Because I know all your secrets.
Yeah, he knew everything. The good, the bad, the why the fuck was I so damn stupid—meaning Cassius Lykaios.
I’d called Tarak from the airport and confessed everything.
In addition to being my ride-or-die, he had a right to know as my business partner.
Our relationship with Lykaios International accounted for over fifty percent of our revenue, and we couldn’t afford to lose it because of an affair with one of its owners.
Although Tarak, being the voice of reason as always, insisted I’d done nothing wrong. I still couldn’t get over the betrayal of it.
Why couldn’t Cassius have just said who he was? For three years, he lied to me.
Those damn eyes of his should have given it away. The Lykaioses were all known for those freaking cobalt irises. But then again, the Lykaioses I’d worked with were the ones who’d married into the family and rarely had I spent any time with their spouses.
Sighing, I had to accept the truth. Even if I had known the truth, I wasn’t sure I could have resisted him. He’d pulled at me, unlike anyone I’d ever met.
And that was the issue. The idea of anyone knowing I’d had an affair with a client, who essentially was my boss, would ruin my reputation in a field in which I’d worked so hard to stand my ground.
I’d had to gravitate toward a male-dominated field to pursue.
Pushing my brooding thoughts aside, I responded to Tarak.
ME: Hey, I have an idea.
TARAK: I’m afraid to find out what you’re thinking.
ME: In three months, when you come down with Mia, I’ll take you to one of the poker clubs Akari showed me. I’m sure you can hold your own at the table.
TARAK: I’m not the high roller you are. Why don’t I watch, and you can gift me your winnings as a wedding gift?
ME: Chicken.
TARAK: I do not deny it. Now get to work, Kumar.
ME: Yes, sir.
I couldn’t help but smile as I realized what he’d done. He’d distracted me with his banter to keep me from overthinking the meeting.
Maybe he deserved any winnings from a game I entered.
I knew well enough the money one could win in those underground clubs. Only twice had I dared to enter a tournament where the pot reached the range of multimillions. Luckily for me, I’d won both times. Needless to say, internally, I’d sweated buckets the whole time.
The first time had given me the money I’d needed to start my firm with Tarak.
The very last time I’d played and won was on a casino boat sponsored by an old client of mine. The pot had held a little over four million Euros. That money currently sat in a nice little Swiss fund for my parents’ retirement.
Something Mum knew about, but not Papa, since he wouldn’t have approved of the means by which I’d acquired the funds.
Papa made me shake my head sometimes with his traditionalist views. Good thing he had extraordinarily stubborn and independent daughters as bullheaded as he was.
Pushing away from my drafting table, I rolled up my papers and slid them into their protective tubes before placing them into my giant bag. I grabbed my laptop, checked my clothes in the mirror by the door, and then strolled toward the conference room.
I paused for a brief second as a familiar cologne infused the air. A scent I’d only ever smelled on one man.
Cassius.
Tarak’s message about the memo popped into my head, and a pang of worry settled into my stomach.
No, he lived in Greece. He loved it there. Why would he leave paradise?
It was my imagination working overtime.
He wouldn’t have lied to me if I’d meant anything to him.
Pushing open the conference room door, I found the space empty but for the snack and refreshment spread in the back of the room.
It took less than ten minutes to set up my gear and position everything just how I liked it.
A surge of confidence moved through me, and for the first time in weeks, the old me decided to make herself present.
Okay, Naomi. You’re a New Yorker. A bad relationship will never bring you down. You’re in a new place—time to kick ass.
I checked my watch, seeing I had fifteen minutes before everyone would arrive—just enough time to sneak in a coffee and a pastry. Grabbing my treats, I moved to the windows overlooking Las Vegas Boulevard.
This city blew me away. It buzzed with life, even on a Monday morning.
However, the Vegas energy surged vastly different than in New York. Here, an undercurrent of excitement lay under everything—the next win, the next show, the next anything. Back home, it was the unknown. Life moved at lightning speed, and we kept up or got run over.
Then, of course, there was Greece, where things ran at a much slower pace. What I could only describe as relaxed. A level I’d never experienced before and sometimes to my utter, utter frustration.
Island time meant island time, no matter where one was in the world. Though when I decided to go on vacation, I enjoyed it.
The door opened and closed behind me. Almost immediately, the anxiety I’d experienced earlier shot up to an unbearable level as a tingle ran down my spine.
Then, when the lock clicked, a lump formed in my throat, and, with a shaky hand, I set my coffee cup on the window’s ledge.
“Naomi,” a velvety-smooth voice with a Greek accent said. “We need to talk before the meeting.”