Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I feel like a failure. I didn’t give her everything I vowed to give my daughter when I was old enough to know what I’d missed out on. Stability. Security. Certainty.
“I gotta go, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you more,” I reply, and she giggles.
“I love you a fillion percent.”
“I love you double.”
She waves at the screen, and I blow her a kiss before hanging up.
The call has been dead less than a second when my phone rings in my hand.
“What?” I ask Brian.
“It’s the closing day to book tickets to the conference,” he says.
“The conference I’m not going to?” I ask.
He sighs.
“I’m not going to change my mind. But if you want to go, please feel free.”
“You know there’s no point in me going. It’s not me that ABC Inc. want to talk to. It’s you.”
“Set up a video conference call.”
He groans. “Seriously? You know face to face is where you make the progress.”
“Okay, when does the conference start?” I ask. “Thursday?”
“Yes.”
“Then fly me out on Tuesday and back on Wednesday. I’ll take them to dinner on Tuesday night. Tell them I’m not going to be at the conference, but I’d like to see them.”
“Surely they’ll be too busy to do that.”
“You won’t know until you ask. ABC Inc. is hot property, but they’d be lucky to work in our group. We’d nurture them and get them on the path to being a powerhouse in AI. They know that. I bet they say yes to dinner.”
“I’ll draft you an email to send.”
“You do that.”
That’s one night next week when I won’t be at the hotel. For a fleeting moment, I get the urge to tell Aurora…not that I have her number. But why? I never have the urge to tell anyone about my business. We’ve shared dinner and a kiss. She doesn’t need my personal itinerary.
Even though I know that, I get the sense that her not knowing would create some kind of issue. A misunderstanding maybe?
I’m overthinking. Trying to control something that doesn’t need it.
I need to let it go.
I have to focus. On Willow. On my job. On buying ABC Inc. and expanding my empire. It’s just…whenever I close my eyes, it’s Aurora that I see.
TWELVE
Aurora
I’ve never worked on room service before, so I’m excited it’s my new department. Hotel on Ninth Street gets a lot of business guests and a lot of room service orders. It’s going to be a busy evening. After a couple of days off this week, I’m feeling really enthusiastic about being here. On my day off last Tuesday, I spent the day walking the streets of Manhattan. Yesterday, I headed uptown and straight to the park. I started to feel less terrified of this huge decision I’d made by coming to New York and more excited.
Maybe my excitement had something to do with the kiss last week and knowing that Deacon Black has almost certainly checked in again this morning. My mind still wanders to the way he kissed me every other minute of the day even though it was six days ago. It was just so…powerful. So all-consuming. I swear to god, I would have done any damn thing he’d asked me to do after that kiss. It had magical powers. His confidence, his control, and the way he looks at me? Like he’s never seen any woman he wants more. It was completely intoxicating.
I check the time on my phone. It’s six thirty. I wonder if Mr. Black will order room service tonight. He said he eats at the French Kitchen, so maybe I won’t see him.
I can’t keep calling him Mr. Black. Although maybe I can. It’s kinda sexy.
“Aurora, can you get the cloths off the rack and cover these carts?” Joey, head of room service, asks.
“Of course.”
The uncovered trolleys are lined up like they’re part of a production line.
“Between six thirty and nine is our busiest time. And people expect their food to arrive quickly. We want to make sure we’re as prepared as possible.”
I work quickly, covering the trolleys with tablecloths as pans clatter behind me and chefs bark at each other. There’s always a weird smell of lemons in hotel kitchens. I don’t know what it is, maybe they all use the same detergent or something, but it’s the same at The Rookery.
After I’ve finished putting cloths on the trolleys, I see a bunch of condiments on a counter next to the unused, folded cloths.
“Joey, shall I put these on plates, ready to go?”
“Sure. Two ketchup, a mayo, and a mustard on each. Then get the butter out of the walk-in refrigerator. You’ll see it.”
I get to work. It reminds me of when I first started at The Rookery. It was fun and easy. I had no big responsibilities. I liked working behind the scenes of the hotel, seeing what went on that the guests and diners didn’t see. Half of them wouldn’t set foot in a hotel again if they knew. Rodents were always an issue at The Rookery, but in a big city? It’s so much worse. Hotel on Ninth Street seems to deal with problems quite well, and there’s a strict protocol if there are any sightings. But rodents aren’t the only issue.