“Then I’m family.” Orion’s hand found mine, gripping it with an intensity that sent heat through my body despite the oxygen deprivation. “Anyone have a problem with that?”
The paramedic looked between us, clearly calculating whether to argue with a man who radiated enough authority to own the hotel we were standing in, which he did, along with his brothers.
His brothers, who’d all seen my breasts approximately fifteen minutes ago.
I groaned into the oxygen mask.
“Ma’am, are you in pain?” The paramedic leaned closer. “Where does it hurt?”
Everywhere. My pride. My career. My last shred of dignity.
The paramedics wheeled me toward the ambulance while Orion kept pace beside the gurney, his hand still holding mine.
“I’m sorry,” I managed through the oxygen mask. “About?—”
“Don’t.” Orion’s thumb continued those maddening circles on my palm. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, you focus on breathing.”
“But I?—”
“Tashi.” His voice dropped lower, intimate despite the audience. “You nearly died in a fire. In our hotel. You have nothing to apologize for.”
I nodded weakly, hating how reasonable he sounded while I felt like my entire existence had been fed through a woodchipper.
“Sir, you’ll need to meet us at the hospital,” one paramedic said as they loaded the gurney. “There’s no room?—”
“Make room.” Orion climbed into the ambulance before anyone could stop him, settling onto the bench beside my gurney with the casual authority of someone accustomed to getting his way. “I’m not leaving her.”
Our eyes met. His eyes were a dark green and entirely too focused on my face, like he was cataloging every soot smudge and tear track for future reference.
The ambulance doors slammed shut. Sirens wailed to life.
Orion’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it—a voice message from Ares. He listened, his expression hardening. “The fire marshal is on scene. Leo’s handling the guests. They’ve got it under control.”
And I realized that surviving the fire might have been the easy part.
“What can you remember, Tashi?” Orion’s voice cut through the fog in my head, his hand warm around mine as the ambulance sirens wailed.
“Sir,” the paramedic interjected firmly, “she shouldn’t talk.”
He was right. My throat felt like I’d swallowed broken glass wrapped in sandpaper. But my mind wandered anyway, pulling me back to when I first stepped into the Olympus Royale Hotel, back when my biggest problem was my ex-fiancé’s persistent texts.
Twelve hours earlier…
When I arrived at the Olympus Royale Hotel, the automatic doors whispered open and swallowed me whole—gilded light, marble floors, the echo of my luggage wheels bouncing off surfaces designed to impress. I shifted my laptop bag higher on my shoulder, the strap biting through my cream silk blouse.
Note: Investigate the bellhop situation. Sub-optimal response to a new guest.
The atrium stretched before me, its vaulted ceilings painted with gods and constellations. To my right, slot machines chimed in constant conversation. To my left, the aroma of grilled lamb and rosemary drifted from Mt. Olympus Grill, making my mouth water despite knowing my food allergies would eliminate most of the menu.
This didn’t look like a hotel on the edge of a PR disaster. Everything gleamed. Guests milled through in pricey clothes, trailing perfume that mixed with the sharp citrus tang of cocktails.
The front desk curved like an amphitheater. The clerk appeared from behind a computer screen—young and handsome in that Vegas way where everyone looked like they were auditioning for something. His name tag readMarcus.
“Welcome to the Olympus Royale.” His smile was wide and white, his eyes traveling over me with interest that made my skin prickle. “Checking in?”
“Yes. Tashi George.” I kept my voice steady and professional. I’d meet my new bosses soon—the Kolykos brothers who ran this gleaming machine of decadence and allegedly laundered money for disreputable gamblers. They’d cleaned house, they claimed. They needed my spin doctor mojo to make people believe it.
“How was your flight?” Marcus leaned against the desk, angling his body toward mine.
