So it didn’t come as a surprise when he turned to me with instructions to review the complaints sent in by guests. I took his spot behind the desk. The open laptop showed a screen with some type of database about the property.
“Where would I find them?” I asked Henny, my eyes roaming over the screen for some type of clue.
His finger came into view, pointing at the section labeled Client Care. Inside, I saw the complaint section and clicked on it.
Henny propped himself up on the desk beside me, arms crossed, focus intently on me. Even without a word, his agitation was clear. He wanted me to be upset about this project. Maybe even fight back about it.
“Is there anything I should do about the complaint? Like send it to a manager or something?”
“Typically, I add them to a spreadsheet based on who needs to take care of it. Then at the end, I notify all department heads of the issues. Problems mentioned more than twice are marked for immediate action,” he said.
I nodded, grabbing a notebook and pen from the edge of his desk. “You can keep your spreadsheets. Pen and paper work fine for me.”
He didn’t comment on my choice. Instead, he sat quietly as I worked through the inbox. Some of the customers were obviously the type to find something wrong with every tiny thing in their life. Those fuckers were the type to look down on the staff as less than. I couldn’t stand them.
Others were more dangerous issues that should be addressed. It was easy to see who was concerned versus who wanted to be a jerk.
“Did someone really get cut on the slide? That’s fucking horrible, Henny.”
“They did,” he replied, tone softer than I expected. When I looked his way, his expression stole my breath. “You seem to really care about this. Why?”
I shrugged. “Not everyone gets to have a voice. I know it seems dumb that a complaint form could be life changing. But maybe it is, you know? Sometimes it’s the moments you least expect that transform everything.”
Henny nodded. “I do know. And I agree.”
The way he said it felt like another shift in the right direction. I needed to show Henny I was more than the assassin he knew me as.
Did I love murder, violence, and chaos? Sure as shit, I did.
Did I also enjoy being held by him, having him tell me what to do, and coming my brains out from how sexy he was when bossy? You bet your ass.
For the next few hours, I focused on the task of going through complaints. Each one gave me new insight to the inner workings of the casino and the hotel. Kinda like looking behind the curtain.
I’d been on the illegal side of things so long, I had no clue there was so much to keeping a business of this size running, much less that so much shit went wrong. Rel was a goddamn saint to put up with it.
Then again, money was a good motivator. I did a lot of questionable stuff for the added zeros in my account.
A hand landed on the page where I was taking notes. I looked up to see Henny’s eyes on me.
“We’re stopping to eat.”
I frowned. “It’s not time to…fuck.Is that really the time?”
The tiny digital clock in the corner of the screen mocked me. I didn’t think much time had passed. A couple of hours maybe.
“As I said, we’re stopping to eat. I ordered for you since you didn’t respond when I tried speaking to you. I figured you would be fine with it.” He raised his brow.
I’m sure he expected me to challenge him on this. To maybe tease him for making the decision for me.
But I didn’t want to.
I liked the idea of Henny choosing my food. And my clothes. And where I slept. And what kind of work I did.
Letting go for him was the fucking easiest thing in the world. I trusted him to know exactly what I needed. Explaining the logic behind this feeling would probably make me sound crazy.
Well, crazier than he already thought I was.
When I didn’t say anything else, he grabbed my bicep and tugged. I rose from the chair, my body sore from how long I’d been still. Being in one place for a while wasn’t new to me. Usually, it was tucked away somewhere with a weapon at the ready while watching a target, or in my current role, protecting Rel and Henny.
