I hate that slimy creep.
The goon squad escorts a much smaller man. A pale, frazzled guy who resembles a librarian more than a mobster.
Perfect. My day just went from bad to downrighthorrendous.
My father surveys me with casual disregard. “Get me the keys to the penthouse.”
To accent his order, he snaps his fingers at me like I’m a dog. Irritation prickles my spine as I lift my chin.
Although my body wants to shrink away, I push the fear aside.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. That won’t be possible.”
My father quirks a single brow, his mouth thinning with impatience.
“There’s a celebrity staying with us through next week.” I clear my throat, ignoring the thick anxiety curling in my stomach. “So, unfortunately, the penthouse is already booked.”
My father waves a disinterested hand. “Thenun-bookit.”
Always brushing me off. Always expecting me to bend to his will without complaint.
I bite my tongue while acid burns my throat.
Unreasonable requests from this man are a dime a dozen, but his blatant disrespect for my hard work boils my blood.
He acts like managing this place is a hobby and treats me as if I’m playing in a sandbox, day in and day out, while he and my brothers hold real jobs.
I clench my hands at my sides. “And just how do you expect me to do that?”
My father pats my cheek with too much force. “You’re a bright girl. You’ll figure it out.”
I flinch before narrowing my eyes. “I can’t just?—”
“Quit being a pain in the ass.” He gives the lobby a pointed once-over before returning his expectant gaze to mine. “This is such a pretty hotel. Don’t make me getugly.”
A needle of fear punctures my heart. My numb fingers tingle from his threat.
My father could destroy this hotel in an instant, collect the insurance money, and put me out of a job.
He’s done so to others. I’m not naive enough to believe he’d hesitate to do the same to his daughter.
Dad brushes past me in his designer suit, his entourage trotting at his heels like a flock of sheep. Killer sheep. With guns instead of fangs. “We’ll wait while you get that key.”
Brody taps my shoulder as he passes. “Don’t worry, sis.”
He hasn’t called me that in a long time. I meet his eyes, surprised to see my baby brother peering back at me.
His lips quirk. “You won’t even know we’re here. It’ll be fine.”
With that, they meander across the lobby toward The Dreamer, one of two bars located inside the hotel.
My shoulders slump as I swallow a bitter sigh.
I willdefinitelyknow they’re here.
For several seconds, helpless frustration eats away at my stomach. I manage to compose myself and hurry to the reception desk to program the keys.
At least Blaze Starr, the author who booked the penthouse, hasn’t arrived yet. I won’t have to relocate him and deal withthathissy fit too. That gives me twenty-four hours to figure out how to make a seventh-floor suite sound as enticing as the penthouse.
