He left before I could respond, and I sat there for a moment processing the challenge.
Then I grabbed my phone and followed.
The casino floor at ten a.m. was a different animal than the chaos at night. It was quieter, but the players were more intense. They were definitely not tourists.
“Tell me what you see,” Orion said as we walked through the slot machine rows.
I took my time, letting my eyes adjust to the sensory assault of lights and sounds. Then I started noticing patterns.
“Your traffic flow is off,” I said, pointing toward the main entrance. “See how people naturally veer right when they come in? But your highest-payout machines are on the left. You’re fighting human psychology.”
Orion’s eyebrow rose slightly. “Continue.”
“And your surveillance cameras.” I gestured upward without looking directly at them. “There’s a dead zone between sectionsC and D. Someone who knows what they’re doing could exploit that.”
“Ares will want to hear that.” Orion made a note on his phone. “What else?”
We moved through the casino, and I cataloged everything. The lack of clear restroom signage frustrated people and they left. The brand-new slot machines confused older guests. The cocktail waitress station had been placed too far from high-traffic areas, leading to slower drink service and disgruntled gamblers.
“You’re hemorrhaging money in small ways,” I said as we reached the poker room. “Death by a thousand cuts. None of these small losses are fatal individually, but when combined, they add up significantly. You’re leaving revenue on the table.”
Orion’s expression had shifted from skeptical to impressed. “Leo was right. You are excellent.”
“It’s my job,” I corrected.
His laugh surprised me. Genuine and warm, completely at odds with his controlled exterior. “Noted. Let’s check the restaurants.”
Mt. Olympus Grill was stunning—all marble and gold accents, designed to evoke ancient Greece without being tacky. The lunch crowd was thin, which I noted immediately.
“Allergy accommodations?” I asked the hostess.
She blinked. “We can modify most dishes?”
“Can you guarantee no cross-contamination?”
“Um. I’d have to ask the chef?”
I looked at Orion. “You’re losing customers. People with serious allergies—like me—won’t risk eating here if your staff seems uncertain. That’s money walking out the door because you haven’t trained properly.”
“That’s an easy fix,” Orion said, making another note.
“It’s also a liability issue. One anaphylactic incident and you’re facing a lawsuit that makes the fire look like a candle.”
We moved into the kitchen, and I spotted more problems. The prep stations were disorganized. The staff looked exhausted. A manager barked orders like a drill sergeant.
“Employee turnover?” I asked quietly.
“Higher than I’d like,” Orion admitted.
“I can see why. Your kitchen culture is toxic. Stressed employees make mistakes. Mistakes cost money and reputation.” I watched a line cook flinch as the manager yelled. “You need to address that.”
“Adding it to the list.”
We continued the tour—conference facilities, spa, pool deck, high-roller suites. In each area, I found something. Small inefficiencies, missed opportunities, vulnerabilities that could become problems.
By the time we reached the security center, Orion was looking at me like I’d just performed magic. “How do you see all this?” he asked.
“I pay attention. Most people don’t.” I shrugged. “Also, I’ve spent three days studying your operations obsessively because I nearly died here and want to understand why.”
