Chapter 1 #2
I tried, but I must have passed out, because I came to outside the hotel as my lungs spasmed to suck in oxygen tasting of burnt plastic and humiliation. Orion’s arms tightened around me as he set me on the ground, where Leo directed confused guests streaming from the hotel.
“She okay?” Leo’s voice carried genuine concern, his usual playful tone gone.
“She will be.” Orion’s jaw clenched as he looked down at me. “Won’t you, Tashi?”
I managed a weak nod, then immediately coughed so hard my entire body convulsed. Sexy. Really nailing that professional impression.
Fire trucks screamed to the curb. Firemen rushed past us, equipment clanking, radios crackling with urgent chatter. Paramedics lifted me onto a gurney that materialized from nowhere.
“Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” A paramedic with kind eyes and entirely too much composure leaned over me.
“Tashi George.” My voice came out as a rasp.
The paramedic pressed an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth. “We need to transport her for evaluation,” he announced. “Smoke inhalation can cause complications hours after exposure.”
“I’m riding with her.” Orion’s tone left no room for argument.
“Sir, only family—”
“Then I’m family.” Orion’s hand found mine, gripping it with an intensity that sent heat through my body despite the oxygen deprivation. “Anyone have a problem with that?”
The paramedic looked between us, clearly calculating whether to argue with a man who radiated enough authority to own the hotel we were standing in, which he did, along with his brothers.
His brothers, who’d all seen my breasts approximately fifteen minutes ago.
I groaned into the oxygen mask.
“Ma’am, are you in pain?” The paramedic leaned closer. “Where does it hurt?”
Everywhere. My pride. My career. My last shred of dignity.
The paramedics wheeled me toward the ambulance while Orion kept pace beside the gurney, his hand still holding mine.
“I’m sorry,” I managed through the oxygen mask. “About—”
“Don’t.” Orion’s thumb continued those maddening circles on my palm. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, you focus on breathing.”
“But I—”
“Tashi.” His voice dropped lower, intimate despite the audience. “You nearly died in a fire. In our hotel. You have nothing to apologize for.”
I nodded weakly, hating how reasonable he sounded while I felt like my entire existence had been fed through a woodchipper.
“Sir, you’ll need to meet us at the hospital,” one paramedic said as they loaded the gurney. “There’s no room—”
“Make room.” Orion climbed into the ambulance before anyone could stop him, settling onto the bench beside my gurney with the casual authority of someone accustomed to getting his way. “I’m not leaving her.”
Our eyes met. His eyes were a dark green and entirely too focused on my face, like he was cataloging every soot smudge and tear track for future reference.
The ambulance doors slammed shut. Sirens wailed to life.
Orion’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it—a voice message from Ares. He listened, his expression hardening. “The fire marshal is on scene. Leo’s handling the guests. They’ve got it under control.”
And I realized that surviving the fire might have been the easy part.
“What can you remember, Tashi?” Orion’s voice cut through the fog in my head, his hand warm around mine as the ambulance sirens wailed.
“Sir,” the paramedic interjected firmly, “she shouldn’t talk.”
He was right. My throat felt like I’d swallowed broken glass wrapped in sandpaper. But my mind wandered anyway, pulling me back to when I first stepped into the Olympus Royale Hotel, back when my biggest problem was my ex-fiancé’s persistent texts.
Twelve hours earlier…
When I arrived at the Olympus Royale Hotel, the automatic doors whispered open and swallowed me whole—gilded light, marble floors, the echo of my luggage wheels bouncing off surfaces designed to impress. I shifted my laptop bag higher on my shoulder, the strap biting through my cream silk blouse.
Note: Investigate the bellhop situation. Sub-optimal response to a new guest.
The atrium stretched before me, its vaulted ceilings painted with gods and constellations.
To my right, slot machines chimed in constant conversation.
To my left, the aroma of grilled lamb and rosemary drifted from Mt.
Olympus Grill, making my mouth water despite knowing my food allergies would eliminate most of the menu.
This didn’t look like a hotel on the edge of a PR disaster. Everything gleamed. Guests milled through in pricey clothes, trailing perfume that mixed with the sharp citrus tang of cocktails.
The front desk curved like an amphitheater. The clerk appeared from behind a computer screen—young and handsome in that Vegas way where everyone looked like they were auditioning for something. His name tag read Marcus.
“Welcome to the Olympus Royale.” His smile was wide and white, his eyes traveling over me with interest that made my skin prickle. “Checking in?”
“Yes. Tashi George.” I kept my voice steady and professional.
I’d meet my new bosses soon—the Kolykos brothers who ran this gleaming machine of decadence and allegedly laundered money for disreputable gamblers.
They’d cleaned house, they claimed. They needed my spin doctor mojo to make people believe it.
“How was your flight?” Marcus leaned against the desk, angling his body toward mine.
“Fine.” I glanced past him toward the elevators.
“You’ll love it here,” he continued, voice dropping into something more intimate. “Vegas has a way of surprising people. Especially beautiful people.”
I blinked. “Do you flirt with all the guests?”
His grin widened. “Oh, no, Mami. Just the luscious ones.”
My phone was in my hand before I thought about it, fingers tapping notes.
Unprofessional staff behavior. Needs training on appropriate boundaries.
“What are you doing?” Marcus craned his neck, trying to see my screen.
I met his eyes. “Making notes, Papi, to discuss with management. And please call Mr. Leo Kolykos. He’s expecting me.”
The color drained from his face, then flooded back in a crimson rush. He straightened so fast he nearly knocked over a stack of key cards.
The call was brief. Marcus’s hands shook as he pushed my key card across the desk. “Tower two, thirty-second floor. I’m sorry, Ms. George. I didn’t mean—”
“Going forward, keep the charm within professional boundaries.”
“Yes, of course.”
The elevator bank chimed. A man stepped out, and I recognized him from the hotel website—but the computer screen hadn’t done him justice. My breath caught.
Leo Kolykos moved with easy confidence, early forties but carrying it well.
Salt-and-pepper hair deliberately mussed, olive skin, tailored dark jeans, and a blazer over an expensive casual shirt.
His smile reached his eyes but something watchful lurked underneath—intelligence wrapped in approachability.
“Tashi George?” He crossed the atrium with caffeinated energy. “Leo Kolykos. So glad you could make it.”
I pressed my lips together, thinking of Daniel’s anger when I’d taken this job. Leo looked me over, assessing every curve, and my heart stuttered. He held out his hand.
An electric current sparked when our palms met.
“My schedule opened up, so I’m happy to make the trip.”
His cologne mixed with coffee—both expensive and intoxicating.
“I’m confident that you will help people forget about the negative experiences and remember the magic of Vegas.” His sexy timbre sounded as if he meant it, and my stomach fluttered.
My phone buzzed in my bag. Daniel. Again. I ignored it.
Leo’s phone buzzed too. He checked it, and something shifted in his expression. “I’ll have to postpone that drink. Something’s come up. Let’s meet in an hour with my brothers, and we can fill you in.”
He air-dropped contact information into my phone, labeled Olympus Management, then shot off across the atrium.
I watched him go, my heart still racing from that handshake, and headed for the elevators.
The ambulance hit a bump, and I gasped, yanked back to the present.
Orion’s thumb traced circles on my palm, anchoring me, never losing contact with my skin. His eyes locked on mine, full of heat and questions.
And I knew the adventure wasn’t over.
Not the fire, the photo, or what I had set in motion.
I’d survived the flames.
Now I had to survive them.