Page 51 of Blacklist

“I’ll get it.” He walks to the door and opens it.

A man in a neat but inexpensive suit and white gloves greets him with a bow of his head, a show of deference I’m certain inflates Luca’s overstuffed ego even more.

“Mr. Randolph would like to have a drink with you in his office—to thank you for your stay.”

“I’d be happy to join him for a drink,” I say loudly and the concierge startles.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I assumed,” he stutters an apology. “Both of you are welcome to join him before you depart.”

Luca crosses his arms over his broad chest when he leaves. “Drinking with the management?”

“You know I don’t drink.” I straighten my tie in the mirror by the door. Mr. Randolph won’t remember me. I doubt he ever bothered to learn my name.

“Why do you look like the prettiest boy asked you to dance at the prom?” Luca leans against the wall, surveying me with interest.

“Mr. Randolph is on the list. I’ve been meaning to squeeze in a visit.”

“As long as it doesn’t affect the service,” Luca says dryly. “I’m still staying here.”

“I assure you he’s mostly a figurehead. Too busy conducting his own affairs to bother worrying about the hotel. He leaves everything to his staff now.”

“In that case, I guess it’s time to pay him a visit,” Luca agrees.

The hotel manager’s office is decked out in a style more befitting a king than an administrator. I happen to know that running the city’s most exclusive five-star hotel comes with a more than a decent salary. Doing some digging, I’ve discovered that isn’t enough for him. A man doesn’t open an account in the Caymans without reason. Nicholas Randolph opened two.

He greets me at his desk, extending a pudgy arm. “Mr. Ford, I’ve been meaning to invite you for a drink.”

The years haven’t been kind to him. His graying hair—or what’s left of it—is swept pathetically over his shining boulder of a head in an attempt to hide his balding skull. His suit, while expensive, has been fitted to a much leaner man. I can almost hear him screaming at the tailor to make the measurements tighter. Why be comfortable when your pride is on the line? I accept his handshake, not at all surprised at how hard he squeezes. A good, firm handshake is important to men like him. Meanwhile, I barely bother. Touching him isn’t on my list of must do’s.

“This is my associate, Luca,” I say, purposefully withholding his last name. Anyone in the hospitality business knows the DeAngelo family. Learning he’s in the presence of a member of the family will either distract or disturb him. I’m not interested in either scenario.

“Thank you for joining me for a little afternoon refresco,” he says. Luca barely smothers a laugh, but Randolph doesn’t notice. “I hope you enjoyed your stay.”

“Immensely. I’d have been here longer but I closed on my condo last week.”

“A condo?” He settles into his chair, waving his hand over a spread of house delicacies he’s had brought in for the occasion. I shake my head. “How lovely. I like to check in with our more important guests to make certain we exceeded their expectations.”

“I try to refrain from having expectations. I’m easy to please,” I say, refusing the bourbon he lifts next in offering.

“Well, then, good,” he says in a flustered tone, retrieving a monogrammed handkerchief from his suit pocket and mopping his forehead.

“Luca will be staying at the Eaton for some time, though.”

“Oh, excellent.” Randolph turns his beady gaze on him. “In town for business?”

Luca nods, picking at his sleeve. He’s never been one to bother with chit chat.

“And your business is?” Randolph presses.

“The family business,” he says in a bored voice.

Getting nowhere with Luca, he returns his attention to me. “And you, Mr. Ford? What business are you in?”

I can’t blame him for wondering what the man staying in his most expensive suite for nearly a month does for a living. In Randolph’s eyes I’m the sort of clientele he wants to attract. At least, I am now.

“Asset management. I handle private financial matters,” I emphasize the last part—bait sure to make this fish bite.

“Management,” he repeats. “Investments and such?”