Chapter 2
Maeve
On the first floor, I pass a private lounge and catch the eye of Daniel Kim, the CEO of some Silicon Valley tech startup.
His faded t-shirt and jeans belie the shrewd businessman beneath the casual facade.
He’s young—not a single wrinkle mars his face, and his black hair is thick and entirely natural—but good at what he does.
I can respect that.
He’s here meeting with content creators to discuss the launch of a new product his company’s working on.
With a grin displaying perfect white teeth, he waves me over.
I’m not in the mood, not after my morning, but I change my trajectory anyway. I won’t let this hotel’s reputation for warm hospitality falter.
Before I cross the threshold, my pace slows. Premonition douses me with a frosty chill.
A similar but much smaller premonition than the one I experienced as a twelve year old, just before I walked into our house and found my mother dead on the couch.
Like a curse, my phone buzzes against my leg.
Lenora, probably texting about the kitchen fiasco.
Please let her be texting about food.
After I read her message, my stomach careens down to the marble floor.
Get to the front asap. Passed an issue on my way out.
Pulse spiking, I toss a quick apology to Daniel Kim and power walk toward the hotel’s main entrance and lobby.
Right in time to spot my father strolling through the door.
Long, arrogant strides featuring too much swagger. Two nicks in his left eyebrow, a scar on his right cheek. Lips fixed into a smug half-smile that broadcasts exactly who he is and what he’s capable of. Cold, cruel eyes that promise pain if he fails to get his way.
Declan Gallagher in all his messed-up glory.
For most of my life, my father’s loomed over me like a dark, menacing presence. Someone I’ve feared to varying degrees for as long as I can remember.
Once I moved out on my own and tasted freedom, I grew desperate to live my own life.
When I discovered the Cypress, assembled a business plan, and approached Dear Old Dad for a loan, I was intent on seizing this chance to escape home, strike out on my own, and build a future that belongs only to me.
A chance to separate myself from our family’s less savory side.
I should have realized that using his money would trap me beneath his thumb for the rest of my life.
My younger brother trails him, a little behind and on the left.
At twenty-seven, Brody’s now an enforcer who reports to our father. That truth leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. Has ever since he and Connor both started doing Dad’s dirty work.
My brothers were never going to win any citizenship awards—you don’t come from a family like ours and spend your free time volunteering with Habitat for Humanity or signing up for the Peace Corps—but if not for our father’s influence, they could’ve been better people.
None of us are perfect, but…
Once upon a time, I rocked Brody to sleep. He wouldn’t rest unless someone sang to him.
And now he’s all grown up. Tanned skin littered with scars. Sharp, calculating hazel eyes. Muscles honed by street fights and contract killings.
I used to feel his little heartbeat against my chest. We were so close. Now I can barely get him to smile at me. Not when our father’s around.
He exists in our eldest sibling’s shadow. Connor is even further gone, deep in our father’s clutches. As a result, Brody competes in an endless attempt to prove himself to Declan, to the detriment of almost everything else.
Behind Dad and Brody loom two of their goons.
One’s a tall, wiry man with a sinister sparkle in his eye.
The other one is stocky with a semipermanent sneer and mangled ear.
His real name is John, but since a few too many hits to the side of the head left him partially deaf, most people call him Shout.
If I had my way, I wouldn’t call him anything, because he wouldn’t exist anywhere in my immediate vicinity.
He’s rude, presumptuous, and sleazy. I’ve caught him staring at the women on my staff—some barely over eighteen—far too often.
I hate that slimy creep.
The goon squad escorts a much smaller man. A pale, frazzled guy who resembles a librarian more than a mobster.
Perfect. My day just went from bad to downright horrendous.
My father surveys me with casual disregard. “Get me the keys to the penthouse.”
To accent his order, he snaps his fingers at me like I’m a dog. Irritation prickles my spine as I lift my chin.
Although my body wants to shrink away, I push the fear aside.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. That won’t be possible.”
My father quirks a single brow, his mouth thinning with impatience.
“There’s a celebrity staying with us through next week.” I clear my throat, ignoring the thick anxiety curling in my stomach. “So, unfortunately, the penthouse is already booked.”
My father waves a disinterested hand. “Then un-book it.”
Always brushing me off. Always expecting me to bend to his will without complaint.
I bite my tongue while acid burns my throat.
Unreasonable requests from this man are a dime a dozen, but his blatant disrespect for my hard work boils my blood.
He acts like managing this place is a hobby and treats me as if I’m playing in a sandbox, day in and day out, while he and my brothers hold real jobs.
I clench my hands at my sides. “And just how do you expect me to do that?”
My father pats my cheek with too much force. “You’re a bright girl. You’ll figure it out.”
I flinch before narrowing my eyes. “I can’t just—”
“Quit being a pain in the ass.” He gives the lobby a pointed once-over before returning his expectant gaze to mine. “This is such a pretty hotel. Don’t make me get ugly.”
A needle of fear punctures my heart. My numb fingers tingle from his threat.
My father could destroy this hotel in an instant, collect the insurance money, and put me out of a job.
He’s done so to others. I’m not naive enough to believe he’d hesitate to do the same to his daughter.
Dad brushes past me in his designer suit, his entourage trotting at his heels like a flock of sheep. Killer sheep. With guns instead of fangs. “We’ll wait while you get that key.”
Brody taps my shoulder as he passes. “Don’t worry, sis.”
He hasn’t called me that in a long time. I meet his eyes, surprised to see my baby brother peering back at me.
His lips quirk. “You won’t even know we’re here. It’ll be fine.”
With that, they meander across the lobby toward The Dreamer, one of two bars located inside the hotel.
My shoulders slump as I swallow a bitter sigh.
I will definitely know they’re here.
For several seconds, helpless frustration eats away at my stomach. I manage to compose myself and hurry to the reception desk to program the keys.
At least Blaze Starr, the author who booked the penthouse, hasn’t arrived yet. I won’t have to relocate him and deal with that hissy fit too. That gives me twenty-four hours to figure out how to make a seventh-floor suite sound as enticing as the penthouse.
Hopefully, complimentary champagne and comped meals will prove persuasive enough.
I tap my nails on the top of the indigo blue counter, my mind spinning as fast as the program on the computer.
My father’s mafia world has invaded my sanctuary. Again. This isn’t the first time he’s taken over for his own gain.
I’m twenty-nine years old, for fuck’s sake. Will this ever end?
Frustration tastes like sour lemon on my tongue. I want him gone. Out of my business and out of my life.
Forever.
Later, after I’ve delivered the penthouse key to His Majesty, Henri has fresh ingredients in the kitchen, and Blaze Starr has a different room, I escape the front desk and retreat to the privacy of my office.
The one place in the hotel—aside from my suite—that is mine and mine alone.
Tall, dark wood bookcases lined with all sorts of volumes I’ll never have the time to read.
Ceiling-height windows overlooking the back garden.
Walls painted a soft, deep navy. Cozy, gray leather furniture I occasionally sink onto when the days are especially long.
Persian rugs. Bright seascapes on the walls.
A vintage wooden desk I saved from a historic office building set for demolition.
My sanctuary.
I drop into my oversize computer chair and rub my fingers against my temples.
Today has been so long, and it’s not even noon.
I inhale the soft pine scent wafting from my wall plug-in and grab my computer mouse.
No sense in wasting time wallowing.
Scanning my inbox, I delete spam and stumble upon an email that came in while I was dealing with my father’s nonsense.
From: Zenith Investment Group
I scan a few brief lines of text, my breath catching in my throat.
Zenith…Zenith’s interested in the Cypress as an investment opportunity.
Could Zenith Investment Group be the answer to all my prayers? Could they be my ticket out of my father’s control? I don’t remember exactly which company Zenith is, but I sent out so many feelers that it’s impossible to keep them all straight.
“‘We’re not a hedge fund.’” I mumble the words, half disbelieving. “‘We invest in real owners who want to reach new levels—’”
A shrill ring from my desk causes me to jump.
Heart leaping, I fumble for my phone. “Yes?”
“Okay, I’ve got a call waiting for you.” Lenora’s voice is high, breathy. Excited. “It’s from a guy named Kellin. He’s from some big investment firm. I think he called the company Zenith? I don’t know, and I don’t care. He has one sexy-ass voice.”
I don’t even have the energy to roll my eyes at Lenora’s man-hungry commentary. Because this Kellin person has excellent timing.
“Put him through.”
“Hold on to your panties.”
“Lenora—” The call reconnects. Even though said man with a sexy-ass voice won’t see me, I straighten up in my seat. “This is Maeve Gallagher speaking.”
“Hello, Ms. Gallagher. My name is Kellin Jameson.”
Sweet Jesus. Lenora wasn’t exaggerating. Kellin’s deep, husky voice conjures an image of gravel wrapped in velvet, and I almost miss his next words.
“I’m with Zenith Group and am calling about an investment opportunity regarding the Cypress Hotel. Is now a good time?”
I’m used to men barking orders and demanding that I fix their problems. The simple act of him asking if right now is convenient almost sends me into a swoon.
Yes, I realize my bar for men’s behavior might be underground at this point, but still. “Now is good.”
“Wonderful.” The smile in his voice is evident.
“I’m sure managing the hotel keeps you a busy woman, so I’ll get straight to the point.
Your time is very important, and I don’t want to distract from your other responsibilities.
Though, based on the information Zenith’s gathered so far, you seem to have everything under control. ”
The wings fluttering in my stomach shock me. I’m not usually the type who falls for flattery.
Actually, how would I know if I’m the type or not? Growing up with my critical father provided zero chance for me to find out. Maybe I’m a sucker for a good ego fluff from a stranger. Perhaps my devotion can be bought with a handful of kind words.
Clearly I need to stay on my toes with this one.
Kellin keeps talking. “My company has run an analysis on the Cypress Hotel, and we think with a little capital infusion and strategic planning, together, we could grow profits exponentially.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I grab my tumbler and sip some water. “How exponentially?”
“How does a hundred million dollars in the next five years sound?”
The water just about drowns me. I mute my phone to prevent Kellin from hearing my coughs and sputters.
A hundred million? I know exactly what that sounds like…freedom. A future that I can control myself, without my pushy, criminal father creeping over my shoulder.
It’s almost too good to be true.
I unmute the call. Kellin must think I’ve fainted or gone into shock. “You have my attention.”
“Good. As it happens, I’m actually in town on business, and I’ve already booked a stay at the Cypress. Would you be able to meet later this afternoon to talk further?”
As if I would miss this opportunity. I clear my throat. “Of course. I have some free time at four o’clock.” Surprisingly, my voice stays steady.
This could be my chance.
With Zenith’s help, I might finally gain the ability to set myself free.