I don’t stop walking.
I don’t react, even though irritation flares in my chest. Those fucking Becketts.
‘Outmanoeuvre them,’ I say evenly. ‘Buy the committee. Change the zoning. Lean on the minister. I don’t care how—just keep the Dublin project moving.’
Belle nods once. She understands this hotel is personal to me.
‘And Luke?’ I ask, not because I want the answer—but because I need it. My little brother checked himself into rehab the day after our mother’s wedding. It’s the first time he’s gone willingly, which makes me think that finally, he actuallywantshelp. If he’d clean his damned act up once and for all, I’d appoint him a role in the company—it’s his legacy as much as mine.
‘The clinic says he’s… cooperative.’
I pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘Let’s try to keep the media away from this.’
‘Yes, sir.’
We step into the private elevator. It’s comprised of black glass and mirrored ceilings. The casino shrinks beneath us as we shoot upwards to the boardroom. The doors eventually slide open, revealing glass walls—a skyline of fire and gold behind them. Vegas is gaudy and glittering beneath us.
But I’m not here to discuss Vegas.
I’m here to discuss a brand new casino in Cannes.
I’ve had my eye on a waterfront property for months. It’s on a stunning, iconic stretch of coastline, perfect for the next part of my European expansion. This casino will cement Hartmann Hotels as the dominant luxury empire on both sides of the Atlantic. The property is on a stretch of Riviera beachfront so coveted it’s practically myth. A rare plot on the Croisette—prime coastline, private marina access, steps from the Palais des Festivals—the kind of site that comes onto the market once in a lifetime.
I’ve been courting it for months. Wooing investors. Navigating French gaming regulations. Positioning Hartmann to do the unthinkable—build the first ultra-modern, high-limit casino hotel in Cannes. It’s the one destination that couldeclipse Monaco. Outshine Dubai. Rewrite the global map of luxury gaming.
Today’s meeting is the final push with an elite syndicate of billionaire investors—old-money Europeans, sovereign funds, power brokers who could greenlight the acquisition and fast-track construction. Men who care about three things—exclusivity, profit, dominance.
I’ve planned every angle. Covered every possible clause. Spent months positioning myself as the only viable contender.
By the time I walk into that boardroom, the deal should be a formality.
It’s the kind of move that propels the Hartmann hotel chain into a league no one else can even compete in.
The kind that makes a man untouchable.
I straighten my cufflinks and step into the room.
Executives rise to their feet the second I enter.
‘Gentlemen.’ I nod at each of them in turn. ‘You’ve seen the projections. Now you’ll see the future. At Hartmann, we don’t chase trends. We set them.’
I tap the remote, and the lights dip. The first rendering floods the screen—glass, steel, and unapologetic luxury rising from the stunning stretch of coastline. A low ripple moves through the room. Awe. Greed. Recognition.
Good. Let them feel it.
‘The Riviera Crown,’ I say, voice smooth, controlled, despite my excitement over this project. ‘A flagship unlike anything Europe has seen. Waterfront access. A private marina. One hundred and fifty-eight opulent suites. A members-only penthouse club with a panoramic view.’ I pause for effect. ‘And the first fully sanctioned, high-limit luxury casino in Cannes under foreign ownership.’
They’re eating it up. Shovelling in, just as I planned. They shift in their chairs as low murmurs echo around the roomand bright eyes sharpen. They’re all probably mentally calculating the potential.
‘Our empire was built on one principle—where Hartmann goes, gaming follows. Our hotels don’t just host guests. They host power. Money. Risk. The kind of clientele who don’t ask for limits and don’t accept losing. This isn’t hospitality. It’s supremacy.’
I click to the next slide—plans for a subterranean gaming floor wrapped in gold-veined marble, private vaults, VIP salons, and a no-camera, no-paperwork Black Room for the elite.
‘The casino will be the heartbeat of the Riviera Crown. A magnet for wealth. A drawcard no competitor in Europe can replicate—not even the Monte Carlo establishment. We’re not entering the market. We’re hijacking it.’
Silence.
No one breathes.
