35. Ronan
Tasha
Nuts! I was hoping you could show me around town. I’m there for Sandra’s bridesmaid party. Remember her? Congrats on the promotion. Still with Wolf? How is Mermaid Beach? I’ve always wanted to go.
M y thumb floats over my phone’s keyboard as I consider a suitable response. The text came in last night while we were elbow-deep in wings and beer. I should ignore it, is what I should do. Do not engage, do not pretend that I care what my ex is doing with her life, two years later.
Why does that seem easier said than done?
“Fucking Wolf, man.” Connor eases Darla into a parking spot at one minute to 9:00 a.m. “How does one guy control all this?”
“With the silver spoon he was born suckling on.” Easing out of the car with a groan, I pause to take a good look at the new hotel.
I have to hand it to the architects—Wolf Hotels may be a chain, but no one could ever label the actual hotel properties cookie-cutter.
They all ooze luxury, and every single one I’ve seen has character.
Wolf Cove is a ritzy timber wood lodge; Miami’s has a southern Florida charm with Latin flair.
This one? It’s an elegant boxy white exterior with rows of groomed palm trees and a giant mermaid water fountain leading up to the grand front entrance.
And it’s huge . Bigger than I’d anticipated.
“Where to, boss?” Connor asks, sucking back a mouthful of coffee, his eyes bleary from the rounds of Fireball and tequila last night.
Siren’s Call, the beachside bar we chose for dinner, morphed into a party.
Scantily clad women showed up and everything quickly went downhill from there.
Thank God my bedroom is on the top floor and has a lock.
I check my watch. “To meet my boss.”
“You think he’s gonna be a dick?”
“Shit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to quell the hangover headache. The last few days have been such a blur. “I forgot to tell you …”
“You’re late.” Belinda’s nose curls with displeasure as she sizes us up and down in the lobby of the hotel. “And you smell like tequila.”
“Unexpected night.” For a guy who hasn’t touched hard liquor in a year, I have regrets. But they’re momentarily cast aside as I gape in awe at the vacuous space, the vaulted ceilings lined with windows to show off the azure sky beyond.
Connor greets her with a megawatt smile. “If I’d known you were in town, I would have called.”
“I wouldn’t have answered,” she throws back without missing a beat.
“You look well.” His gaze slides down to where the buttons of her flamingo pink silk blouse open just enough to showcase her cleavage. “Vibrant.”
And not at all fitting the traditional Wolf colors of white, black, and plum. Instead, the few staffers floating around are clad in shades of orange, pink, and leafy greens.
“As will you, soon enough.” Belinda’s white teeth flash with her sneer. “Orientation has already started so you’ll have to run to catch up. You’ll also need to stop by administration. They can finish up your transfer and get you a uniform. I guessed at your size based on what I remember.”
Don’t do it. I glare at Connor in warning, able to read his dirty thoughts from a mile away. I had them too, but I can control myself.
This fucker can’t. “You remember my size, do you?”
Belinda’s gaze narrows to slits. If it were humanly possible to shoot daggers from eyeballs, Connor would be hemorrhaging all over the marble floor.
The last thing I need is the general manager having it out for me on day one. “Can you find your way there, Con?”
Before he can answer, Belinda snaps her fingers in the air. “No need. Holly will show you.”
A petite brunette in a peach blazer and skirt charges forward.
With a wink at Belinda and a half salute at me, Connor focuses on his new victim.
Belinda’s sigh is soft. “I was stupid enough to think I would escape Henry’s punishment.”
I smirk. “Missed you too.”
She steps closer and, taking a cursory glance around to check for ears, she lowers her voice to say, “It was a terrible mistake that will never happen again.”
I can’t help but inhale her spicy perfume.
It brings back fond memories. “If you say so.” I’d call it one wild, unexpected day at work.
We didn’t instigate it. We never dreamed of it.
Belinda is the one who was waiting for us at the old Wolf house during our routine check, who led us upstairs to help her deal with “an issue,” as she called it.
What the hell were we supposed to do when the blond smoke show stripped and demanded we follow?
She studies my face behind thick-rimmed glasses, and I sense a rare moment of vulnerability in the woman who can otherwise only be described as cold and calculating.
“It will never happen again, and no one’s going to talk about it to anyone, I promise.”
“I appreciate that,” she forces out, as if the words were difficult to conjure.
I smoothly shift the topic away from our sordid history. “How about you show me to my office?”
She turns abruptly, equally eager to move on.
“This way.” Her heels click on the marble tile as she leads me down a long hall, past staff members who offer her polite greetings and me curious looks.
Day one on the job and I’m late, hungover, and dressed in jeans and a Blink-182 concert T-shirt.
A lot of people would consider that three strikes.
I admire the arched ceilings with detailed cornice in gold and giant painted tropical plant leaves. “I didn’t know what to expect, but this place is something. Very retro and yet modern.”
“Yes, the designer, Maude Claret, was aiming for a vintage aesthetic circa 1969 Palm Beach.” She gestures at a small fountain where the path splits off down another hall. “But with mermaids instead of flamingos.”
“Makes sense.” Mention of mermaids makes me think of sea witches, which makes me think of that coffee shop we stopped in yesterday.
Sloane, the original sea witch’s attractive granddaughter.
I smile as I remember her pale jade-green eyes and full lips.
It’s been a while since any woman has sparked my interest like that. Well, since Abbi, I guess.
And though I’ve sworn off entanglements with women, sheer curiosity had me planning to jog over to her coffee shop this morning. That is until I woke up.
Maybe tomorrow.
It’s just coffee.
Belinda leads me past the entrance to the hotel’s convention center and then pushes through a set of glass doors.
The hall ahead opens and a soft buzz carries where people sit at desks with their computers, fingertips clacking away at keyboards, a murmur here and there, the odd ringtone.
I remember that sound from not too many years ago when I sat in their same position, helping push the bureaucratic pen along.
I hated it.
It’s not as dark and dreary as in the admin office in Miami. Here, they have windows, and the cube walls are low. Plus, there’s no counter to keep the riffraff like Connor from wandering in. I’ll bet they regret that design decision before too long.
“This is the pit,” Belinda explains. “All the hotel’s administration works here. Department managers’ offices are on the far end.”
I note the glass wall and the desks behind it, with people in various states of business—taking calls, answering emails. One is in a meeting. They work in fishbowls.
Several people pop up over their cubicles, their curious gazes landing on me, eyeing my attire. Maybe I should have made more of an effort to dress like a Wolf executive, rather than a hungover groundskeeper.
Belinda guides me to the left and we’re moving down another narrow hall of closed frosted-glass doors.
“These are our boardrooms. Lena, who is in charge of hospitality and entertainment, is here. That’s my office.
” Belinda stabs the air with a lengthy pink fingernail, pointing out the opaque glass door at the end, before pushing through another one beside us. “This is yours.”
The room isn’t huge—enough for a desk and two visitor chairs, a clothing rack, and a giant leafy palm in the corner. Not that I care. I wander over to the one window. Beyond the foliage is the golf course. “No ocean view?”
Belinda grunts. “That’s valuable real estate. Besides, if you have any time to stare out the window, you’re not doing your job.”
I reach up to flick the sleeve of a green pinstripe suit.
Behind it hangs an array of button-down and golf shirts in both white and pink, as well as dress pants in dark green and beige.
Below are several pairs of dress shoes. “This better not be what I think it is.” Wolf didn’t say anything about a uniform.
“Henry insisted that I ensure you dress the part and, based on how you’ve arrived today, I see he wasn’t wrong to worry.
I’ve taken the liberty of acquiring a few key pieces.
Abbi sent me the measurements they used for the wedding tuxedo as a guide, though she warned me you’re a size bigger.
” She scrutinizes me, and I’m beginning to feel like a lamb chop on a dinner plate, its recipient deciding where to start.
“I have a tailor coming this afternoon with more suits and to adjust this one as needed.”
Henry is a controlling prick. “But fucking green ?”
“It’s a nice green! And it’s a fifteen-hundred-dollar suit. Besides, it’s only for select events.”
I hold up a palm-leaf print tie. “I’m not wearing this.”
“It’s standard attire.”
“For waiters and desk clerks, of which I am neither.”
Her beautiful face cracks with a sardonic smile as she holds her arms out at her side. “You think this would have been my first choice?”