Chapter 26 Orion #2
I glanced at the screen and frowned. Gerald Hutchins. Real estate investor I’d known for years. Good businessman, terrible poker player, and someone who only called when he smelled opportunity.
“I need to take this,” I said to Leo.
“Go ahead.”
I answered. “Gerald. Early for you, isn’t it?”
“Orion.” Gerald’s voice had that false cheerfulness that always preceded bad news. “How are you holding up? I heard about the board situation. Tough break.”
My jaw tightened. “We’re managing. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I’m calling with an opportunity. For you, specifically.” He paused for effect. “I’m putting together an investor group. We’re looking at acquiring a property in Vegas. Flagship hotel. Prime Strip location. Interested in hearing details?”
Every instinct I had sharpened to a point.
“What property?” I asked, though I already knew.
“Well, that’s the thing. It’s still confidential, but—” Another pause.
“Let’s just say it’s a property you know very well.
One that’s about to hit the market. Quietly.
I wanted to reach out to you first to see if you’d be interested in joining the acquisition team.
Given your expertise with the property in question. ”
My blood ran cold.
“The Olympus Royale,” I said flatly.
“Now, I didn’t say that—”
“Don’t play games, Gerald. Someone told you the Olympus Royale is being sold. Who? And when?”
Silence on the other end. Then, carefully: “I can’t reveal my sources, Orion.
You know that. But the word on the street is that current management is being forced out.
Gaming Commission issues. The property will be available within thirty days.
My group wants to move fast, and we thought—given your history with the property—you might want a piece of ownership. Even if you can’t run it anymore.”
I looked at Leo, who’d gone very still, clearly hearing the tone of my voice even if he couldn’t hear Gerald’s words.
“Who told you this?” I repeated. “Was it Kurt Wilder?”
“I’m not at liberty to—”
“Was it Henri Saltz?”
A pause. Too long. “Orion, I’m just trying to do business here. If you’re not interested—”
“I’m not interested in buying what already belongs to me,” I said. “And whoever told you the Olympus Royale is for sale is lying. We’re not selling. We’re not being forced out. And if you try to move on this property, I’ll bury you and your investor group in litigation.”
“Orion, be reasonable—”
I hung up.
Leo was staring at me. “What the hell was that?”
“Someone’s planning to sell the hotel,” I said, my mind racing. “They’re telling investors it’s already done. That we’re out and the property’s available.”
“But we’re not out. We still own—” Leo stopped. “The shares. If they force a sale through the board—”
“They can’t. Not without shareholder approval. Unless—” The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. “Unless they’ve already lined up enough shareholders to force it. Henri controls the board now. If he’s got proxy votes from enough minority shareholders—”
“He could force a sale over our objections,” Leo finished. “Even though we own the majority stake.”
“Not if we can prove the board is acting illegally.” I stood up, pacing.
“But that takes time. And if Gerald’s already assembling an investor group, that means they’re moving fast. They want this done before the Gaming Commission hearing.
Before Marcus’s conspiracy comes to light. Before everything unravels.”
“What do we do?”
I looked at my brother. “We move faster. Neville—get him up here now. I want every communication Henri’s had in the last month. Every email, every phone call, every meeting. If he’s planning to sell this hotel, there’s a paper trail. We find it, we stop him.”
“And the gala tonight?”
“Goes ahead as planned.” I grabbed my phone, already dialing our attorney. “We make our announcement. We show the world we’re united and unbreakable. And then we nail Henri and Wilder and everyone who thought they could steal what’s ours.”
Leo stood up. “I’ll get Neville. But Orion—” He hesitated. “The jealousy thing. We need to figure this out.”
I nodded, but my mind was already three steps ahead, calculating moves and countermoves.
Someone was trying to steal our hotel.
Neville arrived within minutes, tablet in hand, and took a seat at the far end of the table.
“Status update,” he said without preamble.
“Overnight sweeps—ballroom, Selene Room, all mechanical shafts, loading bays, rooftop units, and structural beams. Nothing. If the bombs are here, they’re hidden in a way we haven’t seen before. ”
“We’re looking at military-grade concealment,” Ares muttered.
“Or someone who knows this building better than we do,” Neville said. “Every anomaly we’ve tracked—key card spoofs, duplicate camera feeds—suggests insider-level knowledge. I’m running another pass through the maintenance logs now.”
As Neville spoke, Ares’s attention drifted. Slowly, quietly, he pulled up a schematic of the Olympus Royale on his e-pad—one of the old internal architectural overlays we’d digitized years ago. A full wireframe of the hotel glowed across the screen.
I watched him zoom into the ballroom’s sublevel support structures. His eyes narrowed. He scrolled. Zoomed again. His jaw tightened.
“Kandahar,” he muttered.
“Ares?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Brother?” Leo prodded.
Ares stood abruptly, still staring at the schematic. “I need to check something. Neville, walk with me.”
Leo and I exchanged looks. That tone—low, focused, threaded with danger—meant one thing: Ares had a theory he would rather not name until he confirmed it.
“I’ll go with you,” Leo said, rising smoothly.
I knew exactly what he was doing. Giving us space. Fixing, in his Leo way, what had cracked.
“Right,” I said quietly.
The door closed behind them, leaving me alone with Tashi.
I turned to her. “Tashi…I’m sorry.”
She looked up, surprise and lingering sadness in her eyes.
“It’s just—” I exhaled. “I’m so busy being CEO—putting out fires, keeping everything running, trying to hold the world together—that I rarely get a moment to be human. When I finally feel something, I go a little overboard.”
“A little?” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting.
I winced. “Okay. A lot.”
She leaned in slightly, voice soft. “You took me to see the Grand Canyon in the corporate jet the day after you found out your brother had a rooftop dinner with me. That’s not a man who does anything halfway. Not jet trips. Not meltdowns. Not love.”
Heat flushed up my neck. “You knew?”
“Of course I knew.” Her smile warmed. “And I forgave you before you even apologized.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Thank you.”
She touched my face—gentle, deliberate. “You don’t have to be perfect with me. Just honest.”
I moved closer. She did too. The entire world narrowed to the inches between us, the soft catch of her breath, and her fingers curling into the front of my shirt. For the first time in days, I felt grounded. Seen. Wanted.
“Orion…” she whispered.
I leaned in to kiss her, but then my phone buzzed sharply against the table, vibrating with an urgency that sent a cold jolt through me.
I glanced down.
A text from Ares: Come to the employee elevator by the ballroom. Now.