“That’s not the only thing though, boss,” Diego adds, and I glower up at him.
“What else?”
“Blue Bay,” he answers, referring to a rum brand with the same gig. We order it straight from Costa Rica, and I was told it would only be sold at our hotel bar. That and the Opal Room.
“So he’s not only fucking with our guests and our designs, he’s fucking with our sales reps too,” I growl, shoving up from my desk and walking over to the window.
“I don’t know how he’s doing it, D,” Diego says. “But as rookie as Decker is in the hotel business, he’s a pretty impressive snake.”
“He’s not going to get away with it anymore,” I state. “We are taking him down.”
“I’m with you, brother. What’s the plan of action?” he asks.
“We go for the throat. And if that doesn’t work, we aim lower.”
After Diego leaves to go make some phone calls, I walk out of my office as well. I need to cool off. The last time I was this angry, I ripped all the books from my shelves and just about broke one of the windows after sending my chair flying. It was an expensive tantrum that didn’t solve any of my problems, but did make me look like an idiot. A walk is a much better idea.
I make it to the elevator and press the button just as it opens. Inside, I find Annelise standing with my coffee in hand.
“Oh,” she lets out in surprise. “Am I late?”
“No,” I say flatly. Then I step inside and close the door again. Annelise doesn’t seem to know what to make of it, and after amoment of staring at me stunned, she holds my coffee out to me. I take it from her and take a sip, scowling as the elevator heads down to her floor.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks carefully.
“No,” I say again.
“Alrighty then,” she says, biting her lips and rolling back on her heels. “Are you going to say anything else?”
I turn to look at her. She’s wearing a pink dress. It looks good on her, bringing out the natural pink in her cheeks and her lips, and I feel the sudden need to adjust myself in my pants. Of course I don’t. “You’re working tonight,” I tell her.
“Tonight?” she says with a questioning tone.
“Is that a problem?” I ask.
Annelise takes in a calculated breath, and I realize she isn’t just going to answer with yes. “It’s kind of hard for me to work doubles on short notice,” she tells me.
I hold my coffee cup about an inch from my lips, pausing before the sip. “Do you have anything better to do in the evenings?”
“Be at home?” she says incredulously, as if the answer is obvious.
“It was part of the job description. We went over it in the interview,” I remind her.
“And in my resume I mentioned that I can’t always–”
“You knew there were night shifts involved. Can you work tonight, or do I have to find someone else?” I ask, and I can tell it bothers her. Annelise’s lips always tighten when I say something that upsets her. Otherwise, she has an impeccable poker face outside of that.
“I can work,” she says.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because you don’t sound sure.”
“I said I can do it,” she snaps. “I will figure it out.” The door opens on her floor, and she looks at me. “Anything else?”
“Yes. One more thing,” I tell her, and she blinks, her expression harder than usual.
“Yes?”
“I like that dress. You should wear pink more often.”
