Chapter 29 Tashi
Tashi
Orion sat inside the hearing room with Leo and Ares, but I was considered a witness and couldn’t be present during testimony. When they finally called my name, I walked into the room to face a panel of men and women, none of whom appeared pleased to be here.
The hearing room was sterile—gray walls, fluorescent lighting, and a long table where five Gaming Commission members sat with stacks of documents and laptops. Media, hotel executives, and curious observers crowded the gallery behind me. I could feel their eyes burning into my back.
“State your name,” said the woman in the middle of the table. Her nameplate read Commissioner Patricia Hendricks.
“Tashi George.”
“And your position at the Olympus Royale?”
“Director of Marketing and Public Relations.”
“Ms. George,” Commissioner Hendricks continued, flipping through papers in front of her. “You’re aware that you’re here to answer questions regarding allegations of impropriety, conflicts of interest, and potential violations of gaming regulations at the Olympus Royale Hotel and Casino?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A man to her left—Commissioner Robert Chen—leaned forward. “Let’s start with the obvious question. Are you currently in a romantic relationship with Orion, Leonardo, and Ares Kolykos?”
The room went silent.
Standing here, under oath, with cameras recording and reporters scribbling notes, the weight of it felt different.
“Yes,” I said clearly. “I am.”
Murmurs rippled through the gallery.
“All three of them?” Commissioner Chen pressed.
“Yes.”
“Simultaneously?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. George,” another commissioner—a stern-looking man named Wilson—spoke up. “Do you understand how this appears? A marketing director entering into intimate relationships with three men who own the establishment where she works? The power dynamics alone raise serious ethical concerns.”
“I understand your concern,” I said carefully. “But the relationship didn’t begin as a power dynamic. It evolved organically. And I’ve never used my position for personal gain, nor have the Kolykos brothers used their positions to coerce me.”
“Then how do you explain the viral video?” Commissioner Hendricks asked. “The one that started all of this?”
“I wasn’t hired or promoted because of any sexual favors,” I said.
“I was retained because I’m good at my job.
The Olympus Royale’s social media engagement increased three hundred percent in the month following my hiring.
Our occupancy rates are at an all-time high.
I’ve successfully managed multiple crisis communications situations, including the recent conspiracy against the hotel. ”
“A conspiracy you claim exists,” Commissioner Wilson interjected. “But which you have yet to prove.”
“We have extensive proof,” I said. “We’ve provided financial records showing embezzlement by former CFO Henri Saltz.
Digital forensics traced the leak of our private video to Marcus Talbor, a hired operative.
Kurt Wilder’s communications with foreign investors were aimed at forcing a sale of the property.
We have submitted all this information to both this commission and the federal authorities. ”
Commissioner Hendricks consulted her notes. “We’ve reviewed those submissions. They’re concerning. But they don’t address the fundamental question of whether your relationship with the Kolykos brothers represents a conflict of interest.”
“May I ask a question?” I said.
She raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t a dialogue, Ms. George.”
“With respect, Commissioner, if I may—would you be asking these questions if I were in a relationship with only one of the Kolykos brothers?”
Silence.
“Because that’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” I continued. “Not whether I’m qualified for my position. Not whether the hotel is being run ethically. But whether you approve of my personal life. Whether a polyamorous relationship is acceptable in your view.”
“Ms. George—” Commissioner Wilson started.
“I’m in love with three men,” I interrupted.
“Men who love me and each other. We’re honest about it.
We’re not hiding it. And as of last night, we publicly declared it to hundreds of people at our gala.
If that makes you uncomfortable, I understand.
But it doesn’t make it unethical. It doesn’t make it illegal.
And it certainly doesn’t violate gaming regulations. ”
Commissioner Chen leaned back in his chair. “You’re very articulate, Ms. George. But you’re also deflecting. The issue isn’t your personal choices. The issue is whether those choices create conflicts of interest that impact the operation of a gaming establishment.”
“Then let me be clear,” I said. “I work for the Olympus Royale because I’m the best person for the job.
Not because I’m sleeping with the owners.
I’ve increased revenue, improved public perception, and successfully navigated multiple crises—including this one.
If you want to judge me on my professional performance, I welcome that scrutiny.
But if you’re going to judge me on who I love, then this hearing isn’t about ethics. It’s about prejudice.”
The room erupted in whispers.
Commissioner Hendricks banged her gavel. “Order. Ms. George, I’d caution you against making accusations—”
“I’m not making accusations,” I said. “I’m stating facts.
You’ve reviewed our financial records. You’ve seen our operational data.
You’ve examined our compliance reports. Everything is in order.
The only reason we’re here is because Kurt Wilder—a member of this commission who is now under federal investigation for corruption—manufactured this crisis to force a sale of the Olympus Royale. ”
“That’s a serious allegation,” Commissioner Wilson said.
“It’s a provable fact,” I countered. “Wilder received payments from the same foreign investors who attempted to purchase our hotel. He used his position on this commission to pressure us. He coordinated with Henri Saltz and Marcus Talbor to create a conspiracy that nearly resulted in multiple deaths last night.”
Commissioner Chen frowned. “Multiple deaths?”
“Marcus Talbor orchestrated an attempt to bomb our gala. He was arrested by LVPD. The charges include terrorism, attempted murder, and conspiracy. All of which are documented in the police report we submitted this morning.”
I watched the commissioners exchange glances.
“So yes,” I continued, “I’m in an unconventional relationship.
Yes, I work for the men I love. But that relationship didn’t create this crisis.
Kurt Wilder did. Henri Saltz did. The real question this commission should be asking is how a member of your board could weaponize your regulatory authority for personal gain. ”
Silence.
Finally, Commissioner Hendricks spoke. “Ms. George, you’ve made your position clear. We’ll take your testimony under advisement. You’re dismissed.”
I nodded and turned toward the exit, and shortly, my three men joined me.
The Gaming Commission had adjourned without ruling, but everyone in that room knew what was coming.
Wilder had been asked to recuse himself prior to the hearing pending an ethics investigation.
Henri had been arrested earlier in the day by federal agents.
The foreign investors’ attempted purchase had collapsed under regulatory scrutiny.
“How long do we have to wait to find out their decision?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Orion. “After what we presented, and after last night, where we were clearly heroes again, they wouldn’t dare move against us.”
We’d won.
Now, in the privacy of our suite, we were finally allowing ourselves to celebrate. The five of us included me, Orion, Leo, Ares, and Marta, who had refused to fly back to New York until she completed this task.
“To Tashi,” Leo said, raising his champagne glass. “Who turned a sex scandal into a viral marketing phenomenon, a hostile takeover into a publicity coup, and somehow made the Gaming Commission look like the bad guys.”
“To us,” I corrected, clinking my glass against his. “We did this together.”
“She’s right,” Orion said, pulling me close against his side.
Ares stood at the window, always scanning for threats even in victory. Some habits died hard.
But something felt wrong.
Maybe it was the way Ares kept checking his phone. Maybe it was the prickling sensation at the back of my neck that I’d learned not to ignore over these chaotic weeks. Maybe it was just paranoia after everything we’d been through.
“I should check in with hotel security,” Ares said, already moving toward the door. “Make sure the new protocols are—”
The lights went out.
Complete darkness. Not just our suite, but the entire floor from what I could see through the windows—no emergency lighting, no exit signs, nothing.
“That’s not normal,” Orion said, his voice sharp with concern.
“No,” Ares agreed, already on his phone. The screen’s glow illuminated his face as he typed rapidly. “Security system’s not responding. Cameras are down. Emergency power should have kicked in by now.”
“Someone cut the power?” Marta asked, her voice small.
“Someone did more than that.” Ares’s expression went dark. “Elevator’s disabled. Emergency exits are showing as locked. We’re trapped up here.”
My blood ran cold. “Marcus.”
“He’s gone—” Leo started.
“Or he wants us to think he’s gone,” I interrupted. “We exposed the conspiracy. Ruined the takeover. What if this was always his backup plan?”
“Plan B,” Orion said slowly. “If they can’t force us to sell…”
“They make sure we can’t refuse,” Ares finished. “A tragic accident. Five people dead in a hotel fire. Estate sale to settle affairs. The investors get Olympus Royale anyway.”
The door to the suite opened.
Marcus stood silhouetted in the dim lighting from the stairwell, and the gun in his hand looked very real.
“Smart girl,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Too smart. That’s always been the problem with you.”