Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Fair enough. And where would the money come from? This needs to work with our current budget. We’re already near our limit for security costs.”
“Well… if we streamline the cleaning schedule and make everything more efficient there, we wouldn’t need to look further.”
There’s no point in fighting it when she’s right—and we both know she is—but goddamn, I want to.
I stand up before she annoys me some more.
“Sounds like you have everything under control,” I say, proud of myself for showing a little restraint. Dex and Archer, eat your fucking hearts out. “Well done, Salem.”
“Miss Hopper,” she says. “Please call me Miss Hopper, Mr. Rory.”
My ghost of a smile dies.
What the fuck?
No matter how much she calls me Mr. Rory, I hate it.
But this is a professional environment. If she wants to keep this so rigid and stale we can hardly breathe, that’s fine and goddamned dandy.
“Miss Hopper, I read you loud and clear.” I nod at her and leave the room before I can say anything too unprofessional.
Then I spend the entire week licking my wounds. I search for something I can critique, not to reprimand her, but to teach her.
Yes, she’s whacked my inner asshole over the head and it’s hard to restrain him.
Still, there must be something she’s doing wrong—something I can improve.
That’s my role as mentor, right? To identify her weaknesses and help her obliterate them. To make her stronger, smarter, and better than anything she’d be without me.
But when I show up early in the morning, she’s already there, splitting her time between her office and walking the halls when she’s not at the front desk.
From discussing issues with Bekah to ensuring the rooftop pool and bar are ready to go by eight a.m., she’s perfectly hands-on.
There’s nothing I can fault her for with operations.
Not in good faith.
Not when she’s so damn smiley with the guests, either, putting on this picturesque welcoming smile.
She’s a human chameleon, I’m sure. Mostly because I’ve never seen her make that face with me since that night on the boat.
Obviously, it’s personal.
What else do I deserve for making it that way?
After a few more days monitoring the huge, streamlined beast that is The Cardinal, I head back to our office in Lee’s Summit.
The Cardinal is our biggest new project, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have plenty more in the works. New deals to close, established properties to check, keeping up with the company’s ever-growing portfolio.
“Hey, Archer? You in there?” I knock on his office door, which is slightly cracked open.
Weird. He’s the kind of antisocial freak who loves to shut the world out—especially his annoying little brother.
“Hey, so I was thinking—”
The door falls open and I see Arch leaning against his desk, his sleeves rolled up, and Salem on the red sofa in front of him.
Laughing like he’s the world’s greatest funny man.
Shit, even Archer is making noise.
Archer—Mr. Uptight Frowny Fuck himself—might bust a seam if he keeps laughing.
I rub my eyes.
Is this real life?
She’s known him for five seconds, and somehow, they’re both giddy.
Honest to God, I can’t remember the last time my brother smiled at anyone who isn’t named Colt, Junie—and that one was a long time coming—or Mom.
Miracles never cease, they say.
I wish like hell this one would.
“Miss Hopper,” I snap off. I check myself at the doorway because it feels like I’ve walked in on something scandalous. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Mr. Rory.” She looks at me, her laughter tapering off.
“Mr. Rory?” Archer raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you know he prefers Pat?”
Goddamned great.
Now everybody in the office is picking up on our weird-ass dynamic because Salem can’t just be normal and get over a naked mistake from years ago.
“Um, sure. I just figured we should keep it more professional since he’s the mentor and all.” She flushes.
“Doesn’t matter what I prefer,” I say stiffly. “I can come back later, if I’m interrupting.”
“No, no, I was just leaving.” Salem collects her bag as Archer looks between us with a frown. “I just came to meet the other masterminds behind the company.”
“A pleasure,” Archer tells her. “My door’s open anytime.”
Your door, Bro, is about to slam your face hard enough to bruise.
With pure stupid jealousy coursing through my veins, I hold the door for her. “I’ll walk you down to reception. It’s a big office.”
“Not that big, thanks. I remember the way.”
“Miss Hopper, I insist.” I glower at Archer, annoyed with the curious gleam in his eye as he watches us.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I tell him. “I need to discuss a few things with you.”
“Whatever, man. I’m not like you, jumping all over the city. I’ve got plenty of real work right here.” He retreats behind his desk.
Dickwad.
Isn’t that just like old Arch? Always slinging little comments that come back to bite you straight in the ass.