10. Ten
10
TEN
“ Y ou’re up early.”
I was already in my suit—my father was the one who introduced me to Ralph Lauren suits, so I just followed his lead—and drinking coffee in the kitchen when Olivia emerged from her room. Today, for a change, she was dressed, her makeup was done, and she had a smile on her face.
She was pretty. It struck me in that moment. When she smiled, she was downright beautiful. I absolutely loved the way she looked. Heck, I even liked the way she looked when she was bumming around in jogging pants and a tank top. Sure, that look often didn’t require a bra—not that I liked the look for that reason or anything—but she was always cute. Now that she was dressed up, though, I couldn’t help but be blown away.
“Job interview?” I assumed.
She shook her head and moved toward the coffee pot. “No, and I’m starting to get bitter, Snookums.”
“Stop calling me that,” I growled.
She ignored me. “I feel as if I’m getting punished for doing the right thing, and that makes me a very hard person to be around.”
“I know you don’t want me to say it,” I started.
“Then don’t.”
I kept going because it felt necessary. “I still think giving you a job in the accounting department here is the way to go. In a year, people are going to forget that you almost single-handedly bankrupted Bradford and Sons, and instead, they’ll see your glowing references from our accounting department.”
“How do you know the references will be glowing?” Olivia filled her coffee mug only halfway and then added a bunch of flavored creamer. It was milk with a dash of coffee. To me, that wasn’t what coffee had been invented for. It was her way, though.
“Because I have trouble believing you’re a shitty worker. You’re just too … intense … for that.”
“You say ‘intense’ like it’s a bad thing.”
“I didn’t say it was bad.”
She smiled.
“It’s not necessarily good, though,” I added.
Her smile disappeared. “I happen to think that right is right. I was right. They’re wrong for what they did.”
I didn’t disagree with her. That didn’t mean she was going to get the things she wanted out of life simply because she was right. “Just think about it.” I drained the rest of my coffee. “If you don’t have an interview, why are you dressed up?”
Olivia glanced down at her pretty pastel capris and flowy white peasant top. She wasn’t one to worry about current trends—something I actually appreciated—and obviously didn’t care that her outfit was dated. She looked good in it, and she seemingly knew it. “This is not dressed up.”
“Compared to what you’ve been wearing, it most certainly is.”
“Don’t pick on my comfy joggers.”
I smirked.
“As for what I’m doing, I think I’m going to try to be proactive for a change. I might not accomplish anything, but just getting out will be a good thing, right?”
“It will probably improve your mood,” I agreed, frowning as she chugged her coffee like it was water. “Why do you do that?” I asked when she put her mug in the dishwasher without prompting.
“You told me that you don’t like it when I’m a pig.”
“Not that .” I shook my head. “Why do you chug your coffee like that? You’re supposed to sip coffee.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Well, I prefer a latte, but there’s no milk foamer up here, so I have to use creamer. If I don’t chug it, then it will be cold by the time I’m finished. As it is, the coffee is only lukewarm. I have to be fast.”
“You could go downstairs. There’s a coffee bar. They’ll make you a latte.”
“I know, but … it’s weird.” She leaned her hip against the counter, seemingly in no hurry to end our conversation. Ever since she’d stopped being a pig and I’d stopped leaving toenail clippings all around the penthouse, we’d been getting along relatively well. That didn’t mean we confided in one another like giggling schoolgirls. We’d been known to have rousing conversations about movies and sports, though. We were comfortable together—at least more so than before—and I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“How is it weird?” I was honestly curious.
“Because everybody knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That we’re married.”
I didn’t know what to make of the statement. “I believe that news has spread now. Would you prefer if it was a secret? That doesn’t really work for our plan.”
“I know.” She squirmed. “It’s just … do you know how the women here look at you?”
“I … um … would guess they look at me as the boss’s son.”
“Yes, but they think you walk on water.”
“They do not.”
“Oh, yes, they do.” She bobbed her head. “They think that you’re handsome, smart, and basically the warm gooey center of a fresh apple pie.”
The picture she was painting sounded flattering and yet it made me distinctly uncomfortable. “Okay,” I hedged. I had no idea what this had to do with her getting a latte in the morning.
“Do you know all the women here had a competition going?”
“Like … a trivia competition?”
“No, numbnuts.” She flicked me between the eyebrows, causing me to yelp.
“That hurt!”
“You’re fine, you big baby.” Her smirk told me she was enjoying my discomfort. “Their competition was to see if one of them could get you to settle down.”
I choked on a laugh. “You’re making that up.”
“I’m not. One of the bartenders didn’t realize who I was and mistakenly told me. Apparently, because you’re the boss’s son—and will one day be the boss—you’re the biggest prize in the claw grabber.”
“Claw grabber?”
“You know, those machines you feed quarters in and guide the claw over to try and snag a stuffed animal. I used to spend hours with those machines because my parents didn’t like buying stuffed animals—they said they were a waste of money and caused clutter—but if I won one, I figured I could bring it home and they couldn’t say anything.”
My heart pinged at the thought of Olivia pining for a stuffed animal only to be told no. That seemed somehow unfair. “How am I a prize in the claw grabber?” I asked finally. I was still unsure of what she meant by that.
“Just that they all thought they were going to have a turn seducing you. They thought they would get to use the machine once and you would be the stuffed animal prize.”
“Huh.” How was I supposed to feel about that?
“Now they spend all their time staring at me wondering how I snagged you,” she continued.
“Did you tell them you clubbed me over the head and dragged me to a Batman wedding?” I grinned at her to let her know I was joking.
“No. That’s what they assume. I mean … look at you and look at me.”
My smile disappeared in an instant. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you look as if you stepped off the pages of GQ, and I look as if I’m the woman who should be following you around with a lint roller to keep your suit pristine.”
“That’s not true. Also, that’s not a job. If it was, my father would definitely have someone like that working for him.”
She laughed as she pushed herself away from the counter. “It is true,” she said. “It’s fine. I don’t have low self-esteem or anything. I’m cute. You’re gorgeous. I’m boring. You’re fun. On paper, we’re not a predictable match. It’s understandable all the women here who thought they had a chance with you would be jealous. It’s not as if they know we have a fake marriage.”
I felt as if I should say something here. I had no idea what that something should be, though.
“Don’t worry about it.” She patted my arm as she passed. “I can handle it. I pretty much ignore them, which means they think I’m snotty on top of not being good enough for you.”
I caught her wrist before she could move too far away. “Olivia.” That’s all I said. Just her name.
“What?” Her eyes brimmed with curiosity as she regarded me.
“You are beautiful.” I didn’t know I was going to say it until it was already out of my mouth. I meant it, though. “When you smile, it lights up a room. When you laugh, it sounds like harps playing.”
Surprise registered on her features. “That was corny.” Her breath was shaky despite her obvious determination to keep things light.
“It’s the truth. Even when you were a kid with a mouthful of braces?—”
“Oh, did you have to bring that up?”
My grin was lightning fast. “I need you to understand that you’re beautiful. It’s very important.”
Her expression was blank. “Where did that come from?” she asked finally.
“I just worry that because your brother and I were friends—and it’s a brother’s job to make his little sister’s life hell—that maybe you look at me through a discolored lens. I’ve always thought you were beautiful, though.”
She sighed. “Thank you for that. I appreciate it.”
Even though there was sexual tension buzzing between us—something I didn’t want to spend too much time thinking on—I released her wrist. “Have fun being proactive.”
“And you have fun … doing whatever it is that you do.”
I nodded. “You have no idea what my job is, do you?”
“Not even a little.”
My smile turned rueful. “Join the club. I’m glad you’re getting out, though. As for the workers, you shouldn’t let them get to you. There was never a chance I was going to end up with one of them. If my father taught me anything—even if he doesn’t always practice what he preaches—it’s not to get involved with someone who works for you. That’s a power imbalance, and it can get ugly fast. I don’t want to be the guy who gets the girl because my parents have money.”
She nodded. “I get it. That’s a pretty good philosophy to have.”
“Thank you.”
“I still think you’re kind of a putz.”
“Yes, well, we wouldn’t be us if we weren’t hurling insults.”
“At least some things stay the same.”
“Yes, most definitely.”
I WAS CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT OLIVIA was doing, but just because I was her husband, that didn’t mean I got a say in her extracurricular activities. Dating was out, but if she wanted to plant herself at Tallulah’s daiquiri bar—which was what I suspected she was doing—that was her business.
I set about work, made all the calls on my list, and then went through the numbers as I was supposed to before heading down to check the floor. The numbers were my least favorite part about my job. I was never someone who found joy in numbers. In fact, they often gave me a headache. I was as diligent as I could manage, however, and I hummed to myself as I shot off several emails—seemed the bars were spending an inordinate amount of money on garnishes of late—and prepared to embark on my favorite part of the day.
I liked interacting with the employees, including standing with Rex on the casino floor and having a few laughs. I always needed an extra shot of caffeine to get me through the afternoons, so that was part of the deal as well. I saved my floor time for after I was done with the tedious stuff, though. Delayed gratification was important to my mental wellbeing. There was just one little problem.
The numbers didn’t add up. Every department seemed to have put forth their numbers on time—and I trusted the heads to do it correctly—but the final number didn’t match up to all the smaller numbers.
“What in the hell?” I muttered to myself. Confused, I went over it again. Then again. There was money missing.
Not missing, I corrected automatically. One of the reports was simply off. While annoying, those things happened. I fired off emails to each of the department heads, announced there was a discrepancy somewhere, and asked them to check their reports and send them again. Odds were, one of the bigger departments—it would have to be the casino itself or one of the bars—had accidentally forgotten to carry a one or something. We were in no danger of being audited today, or even this week, so we had time to find the error.
Once I was finished with the email, I closed my computer and headed downstairs. I would’ve been in a better mood if everything balanced, but without another numbers run, I couldn’t force the issue. That was tomorrow’s problem, I told myself. Today, I was just going to enjoy the good part of my job.
I hit up the coffee shop first, taking a moment to talk to the manager about something I’d been chewing on all morning. “How hard would it be to deliver a vanilla latte with almond milk to the penthouse every morning at eight o’clock?” I asked Marge Dolman. She had a pinched face, which made her look mean, but I happened to know she was a big softie.
“You can’t come down here and get your own vanilla latte?” Marge demanded. “And since when do you like almond milk?”
I hesitated, but not for long. “It’s for Olivia.”
“Oh, your wife.” Marge’s eyes twinkled. “I see.” She studied me so intently that I had to break eye contact and look away.
“If you can’t, it’s fine. She just likes a latte.”
“I don’t see why we can’t have one ready and send it up to your penthouse with one of the bellhops,” she said after a beat.
“Really?” I was relieved and … what was the other emotion I was feeling? I couldn’t quite decide. It might have been happiness. Over getting a latte for Olivia? That was weird. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You need to keep the little missus happy.”
“I just … she’s weird about her coffee. I thought it would be easier.”
“It’s fine,” she assured me.
I smiled in thanks and carried my coffee to the main floor. There I found Rex standing with one of our top casino hosts, Jackie Fields. They had their heads bent together and looked serious. “What’s going on?” I asked as I joined them, instantly alert. “Is something wrong?”
Jackie beamed at me in such a way I felt distinctly uncomfortable. “Hi, Zach.” She batted her eyelashes as she leaned in at a strategic angle. Her cleavage—which was impressive—was on display. That was normal for her. She flirted with me every chance she got. Normally, I would’ve smiled and found an easy way to brush her off. Olivia’s tidbit from earlier—how the women had a competition to see who could bag me—had me rethinking my approach, though.
“Hey, Jackie.” I kept my smile friendly but vacant. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, maybe.” Jackie twisted her hands in front of her. She had an expensive manicure—the sort of fingernails that were so long I had to wonder how she got anything done—and there were little rhinestones peeking out from her nails. “I was just talking to Rex.”
“I noticed,” I replied dryly, lifting my coffee to my lips.
“I have a few whales in town,” Jackie continued. It was obvious she’d noticed me being standoffish. She was likely concerned, but she’d deemed whatever problem she’d brought to Rex more important. I had to appreciate that. Jackie’s income was based on how much her clients bet. That meant she was serious about keeping the casino running smoothly.
“They want to go to the Excalibur out on the highway,” she continued.
I was familiar with the bar. It was one of the most popular strip clubs in the city. They’d purposely located it outside the city limits so they wouldn’t have to worry about cops regularly crawling up their backsides. The cops knew what was going on out at the club but as long as kids and wives were nowhere near it, they pretended they were unaware.
“Is something happening at the Excalibur that I should know about?” I asked.
“Oh, so many awesome things,” Rex drawled.
I pinned him with a dirty look before continuing. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that the dancers are threatening to go on strike,” Jackie replied. “They’ve managed to mobilize all the dancers—we’re talking every club—and they’re picketing up and down the strip.”
That was one of the disadvantages of literally living where I worked. The casino had everything I needed, to the point where there were times when I didn’t leave for days. That often limited the gossip I heard. “I didn’t realize.”
“My whales come here to gamble and have fun,” Jackie explained. “They love the Excalibur. Except … there are no dancers tonight.”
“Just tonight?”
Jackie held out her hands and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Do you know who is in charge of the group?” I asked. “Like … they must have one central organization person. Maybe I can talk to him or her and see what the plan is.”
“I’m not sure who that is.” The way Jackie’s lips quirked told me that she wasn’t done. “I do know, however, someone who has been seen hanging out with them. Someone with ties to Stone Group.”
“One of our people is helping the dancers?” That was ludicrous. There was no way. “Who would be dumb enough to do that?”
“I believe you’re currently married to her.” Jackie tried to feign innocence, but I knew better. She was enjoying this far too much.
Slowly, I tracked my eyes to Rex. “Did you know your sister was helping the dancers?”
“Oh, why are you giving me that look?” Rex complained. “You’re the one who is married to her.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him it was a fake marriage. That wasn’t the heart of the problem though. On a sigh, I briefly closed my eyes. “Where are they currently picketing?”
“They move around,” Jackie replied. “They’re in front of the Eiffel Tower right now, though.”
“So … close.”
Jackie nodded. “It seems you married a feisty one,” she teased.
“Yes, that’s exactly the word I was searching for,” I agreed dryly. “She’s feisty . She’s not at all a pain in the ass.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Rex asked when I started for the door.
I shook my head. “No. You need to stay here and watch this place. That’s your job. I’ll handle your sister.”
“Ah, famous last words.” Rex looked far too amused.
“You don’t think I can handle her?” I challenged.
“Nope. I think you’re in over your head.”
I wouldn’t say it out loud, but that was exactly what I was afraid of.