3. Michaela
Michaela
I storm out of Phoenix’s office, seething with rage, nearing my boiling point like a freaking pressure cooker about to erupt.
I swear, if it was possible, steam would be bellowing from my ears.
I was so pissed off by all the garbage that came spewing out of that gorgeous man’s sexy mouth, I nearly knocked Slate on his ass on my way to the elevators.
Fuck Slate.
Fuck Phoenix.
And fuck the Konigs.
How dare Phoenix disparage my father like that?
The Villiers Grand is my heritage.
Mine.
Damn him for thinking he can get his paws on it.
I burst out of the hotel with the same urgency as if I were trying to escape the bowels of hell.
I stop long enough to catch my breath. My teeth grind so hard I’m worried I’ll crack one.
I look up at the sky to where God resides and pray for calmness.
My agitated state doesn’t simmer much. If anything, flashbacks of my heated confrontation with King Kong Tycoon flare my rage.
There aren’t enough swear words—in every language—to sum up how I detest that man.
If he thinks he’s going to execute his evil plan, he has another think coming.
“As God is my witness, I’ll never allow that man to get away with this.” I brandish a fist in the air. “Never.”
“Don’t ever let a man have the upper hand,” an elegant older woman sporting a stylish silver bob says, passing me.
“Whatever he did to you, nail the sucker’s ass to the wall,” her blonde friend––or sister––says. “If you need a ruthless divorce lawyer, I have a list of the best ones in LA. Four divorces later, and I’m an expert.”
Darn, that was supposed to be my inner voice.
“Err… thanks. I’m okay.” I offer a small smile.
The women nod, sympathetic smiles stretching their lips as they keep walking towards the entrance of the hotel.
Twenty minutes in Phoenix Konig’s presence, and I’m losing my everloving mind. I have no idea how to bottle this strong volcano stirring in the pit of my stomach.
The man drives me absolutely insane.
Marrying him?
Not in a million years.
Throttling him?
I’d welcome the chance.
I can’t stand King Kong Tycoon.
In fact, I hate him.
So why do I desperately need to change my panties?
Argh.
I’m aware passersby are shooting wary glances at me.
As more snippets of our heated war of words flash in front of my eyes, I gasp in horror.
Why did I reveal I’m no longer a virgin?
What was I thinking?
That’s the problem. I wasn’t thinking. My mind takes a leave of absence when I’m close to that man.
I blame those damn mystical eyes…
When I wasn’t spitting fire at Phoenix, I was lost in them.
I’ve never seen anything remotely close to that shade of blue in my life
Wow.
And talk about oozing sex appeal.
Damn those Konig men. They won the gene pool.
While we were sparring, I tried to convince myself Phoenix Konig was my mortal enemy, but my body wasn’t having it. His manly, expensive scent wafted into the air and traveled straight to my clit.
God, the man smelled so good.
It’s like his scent put a spell on me. That must be why I was so out of sorts.
It better be, because I have no logical explanation for my hardening nipples and throbbing pussy.
And I can’t even start to explain why I desperately wanted to know what his lips tasted like at the same time as I was fighting the urge to bludgeon him to death with that expensive-looking lamp on his desk.
It was an internal battle like I’ve never had to wage before.
Trapped in his office was like being caged in a dungeon of lust. I’ve never loathed a man and found myself attracted to him.
Fuck my life.
In the end, it was all too much.
I had to leave his office before I did the unthinkable—combusted with desire or climbed the tall and utterly sexy man like a tree.
Focus, Mikki.
I ignore the intense way my body reacted to a man I should despise and shove down my inner voice––that isn’t as quiet as I’d like and who’s as horny as fuck. I reach inside my handbag for my phone.
Dammit.
My father still hasn’t called me back.
What the hell is going on in New York that’s monopolizing his time like this?
Daddy is having money problems?
Is the Villiers Grand on the verge of bankruptcy?
Is that why Thana and him are arguing?
Two hundred million dollars for three hundred and sixty-five days married to a pompous, pretentious ass? I doubt I’d even be able to last an hour.
Is that what it’s going to take to save the hotel?
Was Phoenix lying or was he telling the truth?
Daddy wouldn’t keep something this significant from me. I’m his only daughter. He’d confide in me. Surely, he’d seek my help?
Gah.
I’m going to drive myself crazy if I keep having conversations with myself.
Daddy, you’ve got some serious explaining to do.
I circle around the hotel in search of a shaded area before I fry like bacon on a cast iron skillet. My phone rings, bringing my rushed steps to a halt.
I look at my screen.
It’s about time. “Daddy.”
“Hey, ladybug. How’s LA?”
How can he be so calm?
“Daddy, please don’t pretend you don’t know why I left you fifty voice messages and sent you as many texts. What’s going on? Why is my life all of a sudden breaking news? And more importantly, why is my name associated with a perfect stranger?”
I expect him to say something, but he remains silent on the other end.
“I just came from Phoenix Konig’s office––”
“You went to see him?” My father’s tone is incredulous.
“I needed answers and I couldn’t get through to you. What was Thana thinking? This fake wedding shenanigan is going to hurt the hotel’s reputation. Once people find out it’s a lie, we’re going to come across like bullshitters.”
No response.
“Thana is behind this, right?”
My stepmother Thana Annunziata is the bane of my existence.
She started at the hotel as the accountant after our long-time bookkeeper retired.
It took her a month and a half before she wiggled her way into my father’s bed.
In the two years she’s been part of my father’s life, I’ve made a valiant effort to get along with her for Daddy’s sake, to no avail.
Our personalities are like water and oil—they don’t mesh.
Daddy is still as quiet as a monk, so I come to my own conclusion.
“I knew Phoenix lied to my face. He kept telling me he didn’t know Thana, and he swore up and down you were the one behind this media circus. What a preposterous claim.” I roll my eyes at the phone. “He also said all sorts of unbelievable––”
“Thana isn’t behind this.”
“Why is everybody protecting her?” I’m exasperated. “She did this.”
“No, I did.” With those three words, my father pulls the rug from under my feet. “I’m the one who hired a publicist. Not Thana.”
I’m stunned into silence.
“Right after signing the contract with Phoenix, I put my plan into action. The fact you were in LA made everything so much easier.”
“Wh—what? How could you keep something like this from me?” I sound hysterical.
“Take a breath, ladybug.”
“I can’t take a breath when my whole world is crumbling around me.”
“It was the only way out, Michaela.”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.
“Who are you and what have you done with my father?”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy, you shattered my whole existence and you’re inquiring about my location? What about answering my questions?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Michaela,” my father says. “I can hear traffic, which suggests you’re outside.”
“I’m outside of the Pompadour Hotel. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it’s Phoenix’s headquarters.”
“No, you don’t. I was there last month.”
“You weren’t at a conference?” There’s no hiding the bitterness in my tone.
“I was saving the Villiers Grand,” he says.
“I find that hard to believe.”
He lets out a long, suffering breath. “There’s a lot you need to know, but it’s best if this conversation happens when you’re in a more private setting.”
“Daddy, you’re scaring me.”
“It was never my intention. I promised your mother on her deathbed the Villiers Grand would be standing for generations to come. You echoed the promise.”
“I did.” I pause. “I’ll make an effort to get along with Thana.”
God. I’m sure drinking poison would’ve been less painful than speaking those words.
“Don’t worry about her,” Daddy says.
“Did something happen with Thana?”
“Everything I did was to honor my word to your mother.” My father ignores my question. “This was my only way out.”
Since I always welcome any opportunity to avoid talking about my stepmother, I shrug off the change of subject. “What Phoenix revealed is true?”
“When you get back to Rhys’s guesthouse, get in touch via a video chat. I’ll answer all your questions. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, ladybug. Never forget that.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
He lets out a small laugh.
“What is it?”
“It’s the two of us against the world again.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re going to hate my guts for certain decisions I was forced to make, but not this particular one.”
“Daddy, you’re speaking in a cryptic language.”
“Call me when you get back to the guesthouse.”
With that, he hangs up.
I stare at my phone, dumbfounded.