Chapter 30

Ira

"Watch out!"

I barely have time to move before debris falls from the ceiling. It comes with a crack like the roof splitting in two during a thunderstorm. Except no rain comes through the second floor. Instead, I'm left standing, glad that I have a hard hat as two construction workers peer through the hole they created.

"Uh-huh." I make a note on my clipboard. That's the third strike against this demolition company the Anderssens hired.

We're in the middle of the sale, but we agreed to have the Anderssens cover some "minor demolition" while we wait. Normally, they would never dream of doing this, but then they found out that they could get a nice tax break from the city if they pitched in with some of the construction. Or destruction. Either way, I see it as that extra five million we're paying going to some good use.

Maybe. So far these people are about as reliable as an umbrella in a windstorm.

"Vivian," I say, turning to my assistant behind me. "E-mail my father about this. I'm pretty sure that floor wasn't supposed to be demolished, and we're not going to cover the cost of fixing it." I look to Lara Anderssen, taking a tour with the foreman as if nothing has happened.

I'm in limbo. In so many ways. Right now, my limbo consists of waiting for the sale to close so I can go ahead with the major construction that has to go on. My father has me on an unrealistic timeline. He wants this done in three months starting from the day we get the keys. We've hired the best construction company in the region. Same guys who have done many of our hotels in the past, but this is going to be a challenge even with a whole team on hand. Part of the reason my father wanted this done yesterday is because of the extra money we have to sink. The faster we open, the faster we make our money back.

Somewhere in his office, my father is having a meeting with our company's head of personnel and the woman in charge of hiring staff. He's also meeting with our head of marketing. They both have their work cut out for them.

It's probably going to be a disaster.

Furthermore, I'm reminded of what a mess my life is when Kathleen Allen comes scurrying through the front doors, stopping only to accept a hard hat from a worker before proceeding inside.

She's late. Again.

She's supposed to be my second hand. Yet twice so far this week she's been late. First time was traffic. Second was having to turn around and grab something at home before getting here. Third time, today? I have no idea. I'm not really in the mood for her excuses.

I am, however, in the mood for other things.

Katie's all legs today. A fact my eyes have a hard time prying away from as she scurries in flats through the construction zone. That tight skirt she's wearing could choke anyone, but she doesn't exhibit any discomfort. Instead, she's focused on me, a tight smile appearing on her face as she hands me a folder.

"All the signatures you needed," she says. "I had to go clear across town to get the last one, but no one ever said I wasn't determined."

Ah, her excuse for today.

The folder flips open, and I look at a page full of signatures. Fresh ones. These weren't signed electronically and then emailed to Annie. These look like she went around gathering the signatures of the community council members, as well as signatures from the community themselves.

It was the Anderssens' idea to get these signatures of approval and display them in the front window during construction. There was blowback in the press after we were granted the go-ahead to renovate The Ace into its former glory. People are worried about gentrification. While we perfectly are within legal rights to do what we want with this property, we can't overlook how important it is to have the neighbors' blessing. Hence our desire to play nice and to get these stupid signatures.

When five seconds ago I was about to vent my displeasure for her tardiness, I can't help but sigh in relief. "Good work. Thanks."

"What have I missed?"

"Besides me almost dying?" I point to the worker cleaning up the fallen debris. "Nothing. We're taking a tour of what's being demolished. Some walls, mostly." Now I look up at the hole above me that two people are trying to desperately cover up. "And whatever's going on up there. I'm guessing someone is about to get fired."

Kathleen shuffles between me and the debris. "Isn't that supposed to be a conference room?"

Damn, she's more on top of things than I am. She must spend her free time studying the blueprints and 3D models. Meanwhile, I barely know where the ballroom's going. Thinking about it… is this the ballroom? Can't tell when everything's been stripped bare and there are sheets everywhere. Dirty sheets. Disgusting.

"Careful." I take her by the hand before she trips over a tiny pile of rubble. "Don't need you in the hospital."

She's about to scoff at me, but we're both looking at our clasped hands. Katie blushes. I'm clearing my throat and trying to keep the blood from rushing to my loins. It's not working.

Kathleen snatches her hand away. "Thanks."

Before she can disappear from me, I tap her arm and lean in, whispering. "We need to talk."

"Now?"

I roll my eyes, dramatically, making sure everyone around us doesn't mistake this sudden intimacy for anything more than me berating a coworker. "Obviously not. Let's talk over lunch. You got plans?"

"Well, I was going to take Annie out to lunch for putting up with me today, but…"

"Find a way to ditch her. We need privacy."

"All right."

She's shaking by the time I check in with the designer in charge. Not sure why Katie's shaking. Do I intimidate her? How?

It's been a week and a half since she asked me to train her. Well, she didn't ask me to be her Domme, but she definitely asked me to help her explore her latent submissive side.

Ah, Katie, you don't know what you're walking into.

Since so many days have passed, it's pertinent that we find an hour or two to talk. Because in those several days, we've either been non-stop working or out of town on various ventures. And no, we weren't out of town together. We haven't spoken of what's happening at all. I've barely texted her, and when I have, it's been nothing but work.

I need to know that we're still on the same page.

A week and a half is a lot of time for a woman to change her mind. Multiple times. Who knows what Katie's thinking?

See, I have time off this weekend. I'm pretty sure she does too. We could do something…

I spend the rest of the morning with my mind torn between sex and work. When a contractor shows me a blueprint, I struggle to think of anything but the way Kathleen looks with her legs and ass presented so well in that skirt. Would it be inappropriate for me to drag her off somewhere private and fuck her against a table? She likes it when I do that.

It's an hour to lunch when she walks by with both assistants, her perfume overpowering theirs, her hair all tucked up nicely in its usual twist and glistening in the sunshine pouring through a nearby window. It makes her hair look even more golden. I hate it. So distracting.

The back of her neck begs to be kissed. Her breasts? They want me to squeeze them, to pinch her nipples through her blouse. I hate what she does to me. Sure, there have been plenty of women who get me riled up every time I look at them, but this is Kathleen Allen. She's one of the few women who has seen me at my most vulnerable – and most embarrassing – during sex. Almost nobody sees that.

She's driving me crazy. I'm not even thinking of dominating her. I'm thinking of straight-up sex to get us both off.

Do you think she's thinking about me? Or is the girl talk with the assistants just that?

At noon, she slips her assistant a twenty and heads my way, ignoring Annie's protests. So, that's how she's paying for her assistant's lunch? Vivian long learned to let me pay for all meals. Annie still has some pride in that regard.

"Where are we going?" Kathleen asks, dangerously close to me. "You were so adamant about private that I doubt we're going to the corner café."

"Hell no." I flag Vivian and hand her my work materials. Not dragging those to lunch, and I don't trust anyone else around here enough to leave them in a corner. I wait for my assistant to walk off before addressing Kathleen again. "I can get us a private booth at the restaurant down the street from here. The lunch place."

"Can you now?" She almost looks impressed. Almost. Kathleen comes from money. She's rarely impressed.

"Indeed I can. Shall we? Let's walk. I need the fresh air."

It's a five-minute walk. Along the way, we pass the bustle of the city at noon, with taxis nearly mowing over pedestrians and people yelling at each other from across the street. Not unusual, but downtown is what you get. There are so many people on the sidewalk this time of day that Kathleen hugs her purse close to her chest and herself closer to me. I'm her protector? I doubt in this part of town many people would try something, but we reek of money. I don't quite put my arm around her, but I do put my hands in my coat pockets and open it wide enough to block the view of her purse from the other pedestrians. If she notices, she doesn't let on.

Fine with me.

We stop at one last busy intersection. I see the restaurant from here, but this light is notoriously long. The fresh air is doing wonders for my mind. Clearing it. Keeping me from overdosing on Kathleen's elegant perfume.

Someone bumps into her.

"Excuse me!" An elderly gentleman holds up his hand. "I got bumped into you, it seems."

"Oh, it's no problem." She covers the zipper of her purse anyway.

"My, what a handsome couple. So nice to see a good-looking pair like you around here." The man tips his hat and goes along his way.

Kathleen clears her throat. I suck in my breath.

"That man thinks we're a couple."

I wish this goddamn light would change already. "Well, we are about the same age. Old guys tend to think I'm a man. We are often pegged as being together."

The light finally changes. We cross the street, my strides matching Kathleen's.

"Are we a couple?"

I stop in the middle of the street. Someone behind me curses, and I'm forced to step out of the way. "What?"

Kathleen keeps going. "Never mind!" she calls.

I follow. This is going to be a trip of a lunch.