They just needed to open the door.
He almost allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction, but then he heardhervoice in his head.
I don’t want you. I never wanted you. The sooner you get used to the idea, the better.
Fuck. How was it she always managed to cut through his pride and savage his serenity?
Now her face appeared in his mind’s eye, smiling but cold. As in all his visions of her, she shut the car door that final time, leaving him alone on the sidewalk. Her perfume lingering like a fragrant insult.
Liam clenched his fists, forcing the memory away.Why are you thinking about her now? She’s nothing to you.
He wiped at the perspiration on his brow and took a few cleansing breaths. He could do this. He’d done it before, and he’d do it again, creating avant-garde casino-hotels the world would remember long after he was gone. His properties would be his legacy, and a hard-won vindication to the one who deserted him all those years ago.
If only he didn’t feel her name was secretly inscribed on the cornerstone of each of his hotels. If only he didn’t feel they were secretly hers, that he owed her his success.
No, he owed no one. No more dwelling in the past. He had a casino to open.
Finally granting himself that one little smile, he turned away from the mirror and headed for his office elevator.
The elevator opened before he could summon it. Wade Kennedy, his head of security, normally took care of problems before they ever got to his door. A capable and intimidating man, Wade didn’t come to him like this unless he felt an incident warranted his special attention.
“Uh, Liam. We seem to have a situation outside.” Wade nodded toward the office window, the one with the best view of the front entryway.
From his fourth-floor kingdom, Liam could survey all who would enter Vice. He liked it that way, and had all his casino offices designed in similar fashion. He liked the energy, liked seeing the crowds as they lined up to get into his hotels, especially at night when the city lit up. He got up from his desk and walked to the window, with Wade following.
He might have expected to see any number of interesting sights: impatient crowds, brawling drunks, cabbies fighting over the best spot. Hell, he might even have expected to see Shania Twain riding up on a horse. The last thing he expected was a picket line.
Or rather, one picketer, standing off to the side, motioning at the waiting customers.
He spared a glance for the hand-painted message on the picket sign:Gambling destroys families. Shame on you, Liam Doyle!
He turned to Wade. “Seriously? This is our situation? Just get rid of him.”
“Her. It’s a her.”
“Okay. Get rid of her then.” He stepped around Wade’s bulky body and headed for the elevator.
“Liam, I tried everything short of throwing that little hell raiser over my shoulder. She won’t budge.” The man threw up his hands. Liam had never seen him so frustrated before. Wade had broken up numerous fights between enormous, inebriated men in his casinos. Why should he be flummoxed by a lone, female picketer?
“Call the police and get her off my property. It’s that simple.”
“I threatened to do that, but she’s not actuallyonyour property. She’s on the sidewalk.”
In an attempt to preserve the boutique hotel experience, the architect had suggested a design in which the entrance remained close to the sidewalk. “It’s all about clean lines, Liam,” the architect had said. “It has a fresh, New York feel.” He’d compared the design to the one he created for Liam’s pal Alex Markov, a club owner whose bars were the talk of the Big Apple.
He hadn’t considered whether the design would make things nice and cozy for a sidewalk protest. Damn. Is this what he had to look forward to? Hisclean linesmade it easy for the whack jobs to access the entrance.
Wade continued. “She has a copy of the city by-laws with her and keeps quoting government shit at me. When I told her I was calling the cops, she laughed and said, ‘Go ahead, big boy. This is a peaceful protest. I know my rights.’ And she’s right. She’s not obstructing pathways. She’s not forcing leaflets on the customers. She’s just…there.”
Wade frowned like a cartoon bear who’d had his honey snatched away. “She’s been lecturing me, telling me I should be ashamed of working for you. Told me I should get a job that doesn’t steal food out of babies’ mouths. Go work for Cirque du Soleil. She…she hurt my feelings, man.”
Liam stared at the man who’d been his best employee for years, brought low by a single woman. As Wade’s face turned seven shades of red, Liam decided he needed to take another look at this hellion on the sidewalk. He approached the window again, planted his hands on the ledge, narrowed his eyes at her and glared.
At first he’d only observed the picket sign and its inflammatory message. Now as he looked at the woman carrying it, surprise made him want to draw closer. He’d expected to see some aging hippie in Birkenstocks. What he saw instead made him want to dust off his old, trusty pick-up lines.
He couldn’t make out every detail, but he saw the important things: a severe, red ponytail and the kind of curves that would make Rubens reach for his paintbrush. He stared at her face as she chanted to anyone passing by. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a face made deep pink with ire. Hell, even from four floors up, he could see the tops of her ears flush. She looked like a sexy elf, the kind they drew in Japanese cartoon porn.
And the elf woman was pissed. At him.
