Henri stood abruptly, chair scraping. “I apologize. I have another urgent meeting. Continue without me.”
He left without looking at her. Practically fled. Henri Saltz never fled from anything.
The door clicked shut.
“Well,” Tashi said. “Did I wake up ugly or does your CFO just hate everyone?”
“He’s been a bastard since birth,” Leo said quickly. “Don’t take it personally.”
But it was personal. I’d seen Henri’s face. That was recognition. A man seeing a ghost.
“Let’s continue,” Orion said. “Ares, investigation status?”
I ran through my report. Tampered microwave. Security gaps. Suspects identified. Other department heads added updates. Tashi took notes and asked intelligent questions about protocols and procedures.
But part of my brain stayed on Henri.
What the hell was that?
I needed to review Henri’s background. Check for Connecticut connections. Any link between him and Tashi. My instincts were screaming that Henri Saltz knew exactly who Tashi George was.
And he was terrified.
Why?
Chapter 7
Tashi
Three days after the fire—nearlya week into my time in Vegas—I still couldn’t walk past a microwave without my pulse spiking.
But I could work. And that was what I needed.
My Heroes campaign did more than go viral—it shifted the conversation about Olympus Royale. Booking inquiries flooded in. Media outlets wanted interviews. Other hotels were studying our approach to crisis management like we’d invented a new playbook, which gave me a new problem.
I needed to prove I wasn’t a one-hit wonder.
I was deep in Q3 marketing projections when someone knocked on my office door. Not the polite tap of housekeeping. A confident rhythm that somehow sounded expensive.
“Come in,” I called, not looking up from my laptop.
“Leo says you’re good at this job.”
I glanced up. Orion stood in my doorway wearing a navy suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes had that intensity I’d noticed in the hospital. The kind that made me feel seen and examined at the same time.
“Leo’s biased,” I said.
“He’s enthusiastic. There’s a difference.” Orion entered, closing the door behind him. “I prefer to form my opinions independently.”
“Should I be worried?”
“That depends.” He moved closer, and I caught his cologne—something expensive and understated that made me want to lean in. “How good are you actually?”
The challenge in his voice made something in my chest tighten. This wasn’t the tender man who’d held my hand in the ambulance. This man was the CEO who’d built an empire, and he was testing me.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“Facility tour. You can show me what we’re missing.” He glanced at his watch. “We start in ten minutes. Bring your phone for notes.”
