Waiting for him.
A trickle of perspiration materialized at the back of his neck. As the lone bead dripped into his shirt collar, he swatted at it, but another followed it.
Photos flashed outside the car, causing bubbles of light to appear before his eyes for a moment. As he had been so accustomed to doing over the past year, he put his hand up, shielding his face.
Stop it. You have no reason to hide. You’ve done nothing wrong.
Right. The devil on his shoulder laughed.Tell that to them.
This was supposed to be his new beginning.
His driver Pierre glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. “Are you okay, Alex? You look like you need a stiff drink.”
Ha. That was almost funny. No more stiff drinks for him.
And no more hiding.
Gritting his teeth, he dropped his hand and sat up straight. “I’m okay.”
Hotel security guards corralled the paparazzi. Front and center was a wall of a man.If one didn’t know Wade Kennedy was head of security, one would guess it from his sheer bulk. His mere presence caused a couple of the less intrepid reporters to pale. Those who were daring enough to push forward immediately took a few steps back when he stared them down.
Alex reminded himself to increase Wade’s salary.
He should have guessed he’d arrive to this scene, should have known some would continue to doubt his motives. When the opportunity to acquire his new hotels had arisen, first and foremost, he’d seen it as a solid business decision.
He’d also seen it as a sort of relocation therapy. Moving from New York to Vegas felt right.
It wasn’t that he was trying to escape his past. He just couldn’t handle the constant reminders of Shannon anymore.
Unfortunately, because Shannon’s family had tried to assassinate his character, a door had been opened. The Dean family had been vocal in their criticisms and speculations from the start, trying to lay blame at Alex’s doorstep. Their angry grief had allowed trashy reporters to pounce. If there was anything the paparazzi appreciated, it was the chance to obliterate a man’s reputation.
God only knew the New York crew had already tried. Alex wouldn’t let the Las Vegas vultures finish him off.
However, once again, he was confronted with the stark reality. There were people in this world who thought he was a cold-blooded killer, one who’d gotten away with his crimes.
During his darkest moments, he wondered if they were right.
Pierre slowed down. “Alex, I could pull into the underground garage instead.”
“No. This is my hotel. I’m not skulking from anyone.”
Pierre drove the Escalade up to the entrance. The reporters once again clamored, but Wade puffed out his chest and they backed down.
Alex took a deep breath. His dad used to say, “When you’re nervous about walking into a room, pretend you own the building.” The philosophy had served Alex well.
And, in this case, he did own the building.
Pierre got out and opened the door.
“Alex! Alex!” The reporters chanted his name, each one hoping to get his attention. “Over here, Alex.”
Another trickle of sweat dripped down his back. His heartbeat sounded in his head.
Wade stepped forward and held out his hand. “Mr. Markov. Welcome to Vice.”
Alex grabbed Wade’s hand as if it was a lifeboat and he was about to go down in freezing waters. Somehow, he managed to return his firm shake. “Wade. Good to see you again.”
More flashes. It was amazing Alex hadn’t gone blind yet. He blinked several times and angled his face from them.
