The Cypress only suffered minor fire damage—the Russians risked everyone’s death just to snatch Doyle—but the media attention sparked by the affair was nothing short of major.
This is going to go down as the wedding of the year. The phones have been ringing off the hook since this afternoon. You can’t pay for that kind of press.
On the news, the Cypress appeared magical, similar to another hotel Maeve recently introduced me to.
I imagine her vision materializing before my very eyes.
Of course, according to Maeve, Lenora’s responsible for the wedding success.
Maeve already informed her assistant that, as of tomorrow, she’s getting a promotion. The new general manager is one hell of a spitfire.
And Maeve’s humility is sexy as hell.
The way the woman deflects and redistributes compliments is just one of the many reasons she’s got such a well-oiled machine. Her employees respect her.
I respect her.
I spoke with my buddy at Zenith, and they, along with Finn, have agreed to help me invest in the hotel. We’re going to buy Declan out.
At the end of the day, Finn’s a businessman, and my buddy Brian from the investment group is a visionary. He sees in Maeve and the Cypress what I have all along.
Maeve warned her father that she’ll air the hotel’s dirty laundry if he refuses to sell. I doubt he’ll give us much trouble. Declan’s always had a weakness for money. His ego will insist that he accept the buyout and run.
“Do you need another drink, babe?” Maeve leans over and plucks my empty tumbler off the table.
I shake my head. “I just need you.”
She sets the tumbler back down, snuggles into the crook of my arm, and releases a sigh into the cool air.
“After all the trouble they went through, I still can’t believe Brody assassinated Nolan Doyle.”
“I can. Neither Gallagher family would benefit from Rostov accessing Doyle’s information.” Though I’m not convinced that was the only reason.
Part of me wonders if Brody didn’t gun the guy down in protest of their father’s treatment of Maeve.
I wonder if Declan instructed Brody to fetch Doyle and leave Maeve to fend for herself. Maybe that’s why Brody released me in the first place.
I’ll never ask, and he’ll never tell, which means I’ll never know. But I’ll also never forget the way Declan treated Maeve.
I’ll never trust that man, but I will ensure she gets her hotel. By any means required.
She nuzzles in closer. “When are you leaving? And when will you be back?”
“Who says I’m leaving?”
She shoots up, gazing at me with wide, misty eyes. “Really? Don’t tease, Kellin.”
I coast my knuckles down her cheek. “This place is about to blow up. Don’t you need all hands on deck?”
She throws her arms around me, burying her nose in the crook of my neck.
My heart pounds in my chest. No doubt she can feel it too. I couldn’t hide my feelings for this woman if I tried. “I might not be able to get used to classical music, but I can get used to LA.” I smile, making a mental note to tell Finn of my change of plans…in the morning.
“At Last,” by Etta James wisps up from the Arden below.
I lack Maeve’s music knowledge, but this song, one of my favorites, reminds me of a rare happy memory from my childhood.
I brush my lips over her ear. “Do you want to dance?”
