Chapter 3
Christian
Why the fuck had I decided to attend the meeting, let alone the ridiculous gala?
Oh, yes. Because doing so would smooth out the craggy edges of my often-sordid reputation. That didn’t mean I needed to enjoy the time spent.
When I moved my arm, I was reminded of the burn I’d received hours earlier.
As if a warning about the event.
“Go home, Jessica. You make me feel like the Grinch.” Usually, I wouldn’t care if my employees missed time with family and friends, dinner dates or other celebrations.
They worked for me, the expectations noted prior to being offered a position in Tempest International.
However, I’d burned out one too many qualified assistants in the past and had sworn to alter my professional personality.
Forget about the personal one.
“You are, sir. No offense intended.” My assistant tolerated my mood swings, everyday demands, and long hours without complaint. She was also the most capable assistant I’d ever worked with. For all those stunning qualities, she was given slack when handling me.
Which is also what she did very well, along with keeping my calendar of events straight. I was an extremely organized individual, but also excessively busy at least six days of the week.
I checked my watch, chuckling as I did. “It’s after four-thirty here, which means it’s after seven-thirty in Louisville. Go home.”
“I will, sir. However, I needed to verify information and once I did, I knew you’d want to know right away about my findings.”
I’d slipped out of the Triton Group’s board of directors meeting after her second text, her urgency requiring I do so.
A charity board where I served as treasurer played second fiddle to Tempest International.
While being treasurer for Triton was a perfect position considering my skills in creating immense wealth for my family’s business portfolio, I considered serving on the charity board a necessary evil.
“What did you discover?” The long meeting had increased my level of frustration.
Plus, I’d been aware that at some point at least one of our employees would begin to ask what had happened to the company’s security advisor.
Or maybe they just didn’t care. Even though Tempest was completely legitimate, that didn’t mean rumors didn’t fly.
People knew I had a short fuse. Maybe they’d keep their mouths shut.
Whatever had driven my assistant to slave hours, her dramatic pause was meant to ground me. I rarely showed emotion, except for when the competition was involved. And only with extreme joy in crushing their efforts.
Perhaps someone had noticed Brandon’s sudden absence. My evil side was rearing its ugly head.
“Covington will likely make a hostile move on the property in the South of France.”
Interesting. They chose this war to die on the sword.
Covington. In the world of hospitality, there were big dogs and those who were regularly eaten alive.
As CEO of Tempest International, a real estate investment trust, I was used to dealing with the competition, but few had the balls to challenge our firm when it came to bidding on hotel properties we were already in the process of acquiring.
Bidding wars were typical, but once Tempest became involved, most dropped out.
They never won.
Tempest had become the epitome of luxury, our five-star hotels spread across the world much like the one I was standing in.
All catering to the rich and famous using opulence as a weapon when it benefitted us.
In addition, through my leadership, we’d acquired entertainment venues including amusement parks, clubs, and restaurants and a recent acquisition, a horse track in Kentucky, my pride and joy.
The difference in this acquisition versus the others had to do with Brandon’s betrayal. What I hadn’t deciphered from the ghost trail he’d left in stealing information was where it had been sent or if it had simply gone to the highest bidder.
If there’d been communications with another party, he’d certainly been intelligent enough to do so from another computer. But after a careful check of his home and system he’d set up there, I’d found nothing useful.
That likely meant Covington knew our numbers and our plans for renovations. Not unsurmountable, but enough to infuriate me.
Jessica was more than familiar with my history with Covington, including with their CEO and founder, George Covington. But the old man was close to retirement, which meant someone beneath him was flexing his or her wings to try to impress.
“What have you learned?” I was standing in the corridor of one of my hotels, a masterpiece of luxury that had been my first acquisition when claiming the CEO position.
I’d seen the potential in the formerly rundown facility, breathing new life and close to two hundred million dollars in renovations. The gamble had paid off.
“They’re trying to slide in under the radar, but they made three separate inquiries over the last two months.”
Only my brother had learned about my discovery with the act of betrayal, Jessica knowing only that Brandon was no longer working with us based on an act of treachery. Although she was a smart woman.
As I leaned against the window, I was suddenly no longer mostly alone, doors of one of the larger ballrooms opened, people spilling out. All carrying rolling carts full of books.
Shit. I’d forgotten there was a book convention going on at the same time as the charity ball and silent auction. Within minutes, there were hundreds of people walking by, some in garish outfits as if involved in a circus.
They were grouped together, smiling and squealing, so happy the sound of constant chatter was deafening.
I’d been told the event had been scaled back at my request. Request, hell.
I’d demanded the charity take full precedence.
The people attending the events for the Triton Group were accustomed to pure opulence in every aspect, including the atmosphere.
The last thing they would want to see were girls with pink or purple hair.
As a couple of guys walked by, their bare chests glistening as a bodybuilder’s just before a competition, I was momentarily drawn to what the beautiful girl in the coffee shop had said.
Right after dousing me with scalding liquid.
Something about me being a male model instead of a corporate mogul.
As if that would ever happen.
The sudden shift in my thoughts also brought a wave of hunger.
She hadn’t been like the women I was used to dealing with even in business.
There was no polish to her, just an easy amusement she barely tried to hide behind her intense blue eyes.
All while assessing me within seconds. There hadn’t been a trace of intimidation, holding and meeting my gaze even after her clumsiness had been the reason for the accident that had left me with an aching burn.
Unlike the others I’d seen strolling through the hotel, there was no calculation to her appearance in trying to stand out amongst a sea of colorful personalities. She was beautiful without trying, which was what had lingered in my mind all morning long, details that shouldn’t matter.
The slight huskiness of her voice. The way she’d allowed her gaze to fall, visibly squelching her attraction.
More unnerving had been my attention to her soft yet voluptuous lips, envisioning what they’d be like wrapped around my dick. Hell, I was doing it again, longing to have my fingers fisting her hair while forcing her to suck my dick.
I’d traveled a great distance for an event, yet I was indulging in a teenager’s fantasies.
More doors opened, dozens more people filing out, crowding the space so I barely had room to breathe.
Evidently, my orders hadn’t been followed and the unruly convention was continuing in full swing. The people who’d paid ten thousand dollars for a ticket to attend the ball would be faced with groups of people dressed as if preparing for Halloween.
A heavy sigh followed.
“Sir. Are you still there?”
Hearing Jessica’s voice suddenly had become a feat of its own, the noise in the corridor ridiculous. “I’m here.”
“Where are you?”
“At the hotel. Along with another convention, which I specifically didn’t want.”
She chuckled. “That’s right. The huge romance book conference. I don’t know, boss. I’ve read a few romance books in my time. The women are definitely ravenous. You could learn a thing or two.”
“Enough, Jessica. This is a work trip.”
“Of course. Sir. Is there anything you need me to do about Covington?”
My head was already pounding, the noise completely unacceptable. For whatever reason, the light burn on my forearm began to bother me when it hadn’t since the incident. Another annoying situation in a growing list of them.
Yet as I rubbed my eyes, longing for a stiff drink, I noticed a girl walking from the room by herself.
She didn’t appear dazed or as if she was friendless.
More as if she was in control, studying the hotel itself with full disdain.
Seriously? She weaved her way through the crowd toward one of the kiosks set up for vendors attending the convention.
And in those moments, she held my rapt attention.
I could tell by the upturn of her nose that something troubled her.
When she noticed a member of my staff floating by, certainly no one who had anything to do with event services, she didn’t stop him.
She confronted him. Maybe the bellman’s outfit didn’t register because she was actively in conversation with the poor guy, who appeared to be shrinking before my eyes.
Perhaps she was coordinator of the conference.
Given her obvious attitude, I should be furious she’d dare berate one of my own.
Perhaps that would come later. What struck me was not only her defiance but also her beauty.
Women didn’t faze me, at least not in the way as with most red-blooded males.
I’d had my share of them, especially those only hungering for a better standing in the various levels of society.
My ex-wife included.