I should focus on identifying both Maeve’s and the Cypress’s weaknesses, but like a spotlight, she commands my attention. In her presence, the rest of the world tends to fade into the background.
The more time we spend together, the more her sharp mind impresses me.
Her ability to get things done under pressure—especially while her overbearing family lurks around and uses her as their personal concierge—is nothing short of admirable.
But I need to quit admiring Maeve’s affinity for her job and do myactualjob. Before Finn kills me.
I glance at my watch. My opportunity is approaching.
“—and that’s why we always bring the flowers in through the Loading Bay C door, so?—”
“Maeve.” I cup her elbow.
She stalls her monologue long enough to meet my eyes. “Am I going too fast?”
“No.” I resist the urge to kiss her cheek. She’s too damn cute. “But I am worried you’re going to be late.”
“Late for what?”
“The afternoon staff meeting you mentioned about an hour ago?”
“Shit, you’re right.” She checks her smartwatch and offers me an apologetic glance. “Will you be all right for a bit?”
I chuckle. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to perform a quick inspection of the hotel with fresh eyes to see if I notice anything in need of update or repair.”
“Sounds good. Let’s touch base later.” She gives me an adorable little wave and scampers away to run things like the boss bitch she is.
She’s off to work.
And so am I.
As soon as she leaves, I head for the emergency stairwell and climb up to the penthouse. My gut insists Doyle is up there. The penthouse floor is the only part of the hotel Maeve refuses to show me. There must be significance in that.
When I reach the top of the stairwell, I try to open the door. Locked. A keypad to the right offers keyless access, but not without a code.
Cautiously, I peer through the small window.
Holy fuck.
Even with my obstructed view, I spy a penthouse hallway crawling with Port Kings. Infested. Big, tattooed, severe-featured enforcers stand at attention at uncomfortably even intervals.
There’s no way in hell I’m getting through all this security.
Not without a serious and precisely executed plan.
I still lack proof, but my gut insists more than ever that they stashed Nolan up here.
Otherwise, why all the muscle and guns?
One of the guards starts to swing his head in my direction. I duck to the side and glide back down the stairs as quietly as possible.
Time for a new strategy. If searching the penthouse is a no-go, maybe I can at least rustle up documentation on the current occupant.
Maeve’s office.
That’s where the files would be, right?
And Maeve won’t be around to prevent me from snooping. She’s stuck in a staff meeting until at least late afternoon.
