“What are we telling her?” Leo asked. “She’s going to have questions.”
“Nothing,” I said. “Not yet.”
“Orion—”
I cut Ares off again. “The lawyers will have to address this issue before we say anything publicly about the fire. We keep this quiet until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Silence on the line.
“He’s right,” Leo said finally. “If we play this wrong, we will lose the hotel.”
“I don’t like it,” Ares muttered.
“Neither do I,” I admitted. “But we do this by the book. Investigate quietly. Keep her safe. Figure out who the hell is targeting our hotel and why.”
“And the photo?” Leo’s voice carried a hint of amusement now. “We gonna talk about that?”
“No,” I said firmly.
“Because I have thoughts?—”
“Save them.”
“She’s gorgeous, Orion. You saw it. We all saw it. And the way you’re acting?—”
“Leo.” Warning.
He sighed. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”
“It is for tonight. I’m staying here. You two handle the hotel.”
“On it,” Ares said.
The line went dead.
I stood in that hallway, looking back toward Tashi’s room, and wondered what the hell I’d gotten us all into.
Tashi George wasn’t just a new hire anymore. She was mine to protect. And someone was going to pay for trying to take her from me.
Chapter 3
Tashi
The hospital dischargepapers crinkled in my hand as Orion guided me into the Olympus Royale’s private elevator—the one reserved for high rollers and apparently employees who’d recently set their rooms on fire.
“You sure about this?” I asked, my voice still scratchy from smoke. “Putting me on your floor seems like a terrible idea.”
Orion’s hand pressed lightly against my lower back, steadying me as the elevator climbed. He’d spent the entire night in that god-awful hospital chair, his expensive suit rumpled, his usually perfect hair falling across his forehead. He looked exhausted and somehow even more attractive for it, which seemed cosmically unfair.
“It’s the safest floor in the building,” he said. “Twenty-four-hour security. Restricted access. After what happened?—”
He stopped himself. We’d agreed not to talk about the fire. Not yet. Not until the lawyers and fire marshal finished their investigation and decided what could be said without someone getting sued into oblivion.
The elevator doors whispered open onto a hallway that screamed money. Thick carpet muffled our footsteps. Recessed lighting cast everything in a warm, golden glow that made evenmy soot-stained clothes look almost elegant. Abstract art hung on the walls—the kind that cost more than my car.
“This way.” Orion led me down the corridor to a door marked 3207. He pulled a key card from his pocket. “This is yours. For as long as you need it.”
“How long is that exactly?”
