Chapter 8
REID
“Boys, I just heard the front door. Bianca’s home. Don’t let my roast beef get cold. We’ve had enough business talk for one day,” Mom said, rising from the leather armchair. We were in the library of my parents’ house.
“Yes, ma’am.” Dad chuckled. It was tradition for the three of us to talk shop when I stopped by for dinner, until Bianca came home from school.
I updated them on all things related to the hotel.
He had to keep stress at a minimum, or he risked his high blood pressure causing yet another stroke, which was why I always made sure to filter the information.
He didn’t need to know about the operational issues that gave me headaches on a daily basis.
He couldn’t do anything about them anyway.
“Reid, you look worried,” Mom said. As usual, she took one look at me and knew. Sandra Davenport was the best mother I could have asked for. She was kind, attentive, always fussing around the family.
“How are things working out with the PR agency?” Dad asked.
I schooled my voice to appear as carefree as possible. “They’re very professional. I’m sure this will all stop being an issue in no time at all.”
“Bianca said Hailey’s been very helpful with her as well,” Mom went on.
My sister gave me a very smart smile. No, wait a second. That was a smug smile. Shit, what did she have to be smug about?
“So, Reid. How was the city run on Wednesday?” she asked innocently.
My parents looked at me in shock.
“You participated in a run?” Mom asked.
“Yes, he did. Voluntarily,” Bianca supplied helpfully. I had no idea where she was going with this, but my instincts were sharp. I had to change the topic.
“Hailey and I needed to sort out some details, and that was the only free window she had.”
It was a ridiculous excuse. I knew it. They knew it. They didn’t say anything, but Mom’s smile was now as smug as Bianca’s.
Okay. So maybe I was somewhat of a recluse, but I liked my lifestyle.
Those years after Dad’s stroke had shaped me, had forced me to make some choices I might otherwise not have made, but I discovered I actually thrived under them.
The discipline, the focus. Marion had accused me of being a robot, of not allowing her to enjoy her life.
How could she, when I didn’t seem to have an interest in anything beyond the hotels? She’d looked for excitement elsewhere. I was beginning to think any woman would do the same.
After dinner, my parents retired to the library, as they’d done since I was a kid.
The second I was alone with Bianca, my sister’s expression changed from smug observation to attack.
“So, Hailey’s been super helpful. Talked to her again and tried a few of her strategies. Even Felton shut his mouth.”
“I’m glad, Bee-Bee.”
I couldn’t believe Hailey was going so above and beyond her job. But then, I remembered this felt personal to her. When she’d told me about her school years, I’d had an urge to stand between her and anyone who tried to hurt her. How could I react to her like this?
“She’s also going to help me pick a prom dress.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I asked her to.”
“Why didn’t you ask Mom? Or me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because you’re no help. And Mom’s idea of a pretty dress includes sleeves and lace, possibly in neon colors.”
“Don’t be mean, Bianca.”
Mom had been Dad’s right hand in running the hotel.
She was smart, ambitious, but didn’t come from old money, which my grandparents didn’t like.
According to Dad, she tried to compensate by adopting what was considered a classic style, when her natural inclination was toward the eccentric, which as Bianca put it, usually included neon colors.
“Hailey used to work as a fashion consultant at Macy’s. Did you know that?” Bianca continued.
“No.” My jaw went slack. I needed to be very careful about the angle I picked. “You can’t ask Hailey to do stuff like this.”
“She offered.”
It seemed I needed to have a word with Hailey.
“Does she have a great style? I only saw a picture of her on the agency’s website. She’s beautiful.”
I said nothing. Bianca went on.
“I think you two should date.”
“Bianca,” I warned.
“What? You like her.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
“You looked like you’d swallowed your tongue at dinner when Mom asked you about the PR agency.”
I glared at my little sister.
“Plus, you went to a run for her.”
This evening was not going the way I’d expected it.
“Also, I think it’s time you changed your type.”
“I don’t have a type.”
Bianca raised an eyebrow. “Literally every girlfriend you’ve brought home was blonde, tall, and obsessed with herself.”
I had no comeback to that, because Bianca was one hundred percent right. Was it just because those women had been the ones who’d stood out more? Or had I never bothered to look deeper?
“So, when are you meeting Hailey next?”
“Saturday evening.”
I’d said yes to the article. Grudgingly, and only because I didn’t see another option.
“Oh, that means she won’t stay at the after-party.”
“What after-party?”
“She’s going to the private screening of The Lion. You know, the one you probably got an invitation for because you’re so successful and important.”
“Smartass.”
“I know. I’m pretty fabulous, right?”
I did get an invitation. I’d just forgotten about it because I’d ignored it, as usual. So, what made me reconsider it now? I didn’t have to think too hard about the answer.
Hailey.
Was I insane? She and I were too different.
She was a social butterfly: city runs, private screenings.
She was so excited about life, as if she was determined not to miss out on anything.
It was one of the things that drew me to her.
But my life revolved around the office and the penthouse.
Not exactly the height of excitement for someone like her. That didn’t stop me from wanting her.
“You’re going, aren’t you?” Bianca asked on a squeal.
I was digging my own grave, I knew that, but I wasn’t a liar. “Considering it.”
When it came to Hailey, I just couldn’t stay away, could I? High time to do something about that.