Page 39 of Disavowed

“We didn’t,” she reassured him. “I came to see the ballroom tables to verify my arrangements will be the right size.”

Andrew glanced nervously back to the group of men. “Normally, I’d take you around myself, but Chris Shane is doing a walk-through today and he’s brought all his executive VPs with him. Shane doesn’t normally do walk-throughs, but the Piazza is by far his most elaborate and expensive renovation yet, and he wants to personally inspect the place before the reopening celebration.”

“Don’t worry.” She tapped the rolled-up drawings in her bag. “I can handle this alone. I just need a few minutes in the ballroom with my sketches. Jack brought urn samples for you to choose from. They’re outside in the truck, and I think any one of them will do nicely for those potted palms.”

Hands shaking, Andrew straightened his tie. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to see the urns today. Pick whatever you like. I have complete faith that you’ll make the best selection. Now you’ll have to forgive me, but I really should get back to Shane. Thank you for understanding.” Without waiting for a response, he spun and practically ran back to where Shane stood in the middle of his executive groupies, almost like a king holding court.

As she watched his hasty departure, Daisy giggled. “Talk about flustered. We’ll go with the black urns.” When she turned back to Jack, he was watching her.

“You didn’t have to introduce me.” He smiled. “That guy doesn’t give a shit about any of the people working in this place. To him, they’re all beneath him. But I do appreciate it. That’s one of the things I like about you. You’ve never treated me like a lowly hired hand.”

“That’s because you’re not a lowly hired hand. You’re my driver, and you deserve just as much courtesy and respect as anyone. You—” Someone wheeled a hand truck so close to where they were standing, she had to jump to avoid getting run over. When Jack reached out to steady her, there was something warm and genuine in his gaze.

She swallowed, wishing like hell that when he looked at her that way she felt even half of the crazy, passionate sparks she experienced with Dom.

Maybe it will come with time.

She cleared her throat. “As I was saying, you work for me, but that doesn’t mean you are beneath me.”

He chuckled, rubbing her arm softly. “You are truly a rare gem.”

Daisy laughed with him. “And you are truly a smooth talker.”

“Maybe so, but I meant every word.” He locked gazes with her a moment longer before dropping his hand.

Sharp laughter had both of them turning to watch Shane.

She readjusted the bags on her shoulder. “Look at the way they’re all watching him. It’s as if every word that comes out of his mouth is the word of God.”

“When you have that much money people do whatever you tell them to. And if they don’t, you buy them off.” He continued watching a moment longer. “I need to hit the john. I’ll catch up with you.” He turned abruptly and strode into the lobby in the direction of the restrooms.

Well that was strange.

There’d been a definite hint of resentment in his tone as he’d voiced his hard-bitten opinion of people with money. Shane, to be specific. Could simply be that Jack came from humble roots, whereas the article she’d read painted Shane as someone who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

As she watched Jack’s departure, she noted that he walked slowly and deliberately, subtly turning his head to each side, then up to the left and the right. Almost as if he were scoping out the place.

When he tilted his head to the gilded balcony overlooking the lobby, she followed his gaze. Staring down at them was another man in a dark suit, but this one was different. He was nearly motionless, and when he turned his head she saw a coiled wire running from his ear and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. He looked exactly like those Secret Service agents that protected the president.

Was the president attending the Piazza’s celebration?

Curious, Daisy did a slow three-sixty and counted at least five more of these bodyguard-type guys with the same earpieces stationed around the lobby. She expected the mayor and other local politicians to attend the hotel’s big event, but not the president.

When she searched for Jack again, he was gone. She grabbed her rolled designs from her shoulder bag and took the short stairway down into the ballroom. This room was even more stunning than the lobby.

Freshly polished white marble floors glistened in the romantic light provided by three of the largest crystal-beaded chandeliers Daisy had ever seen. Gold and cream brocade drapes tied off with gold rope tassels lined every wall. Intricate molding decorated the arches that spanned giant fluted columns reaching upward to the vaulted ceiling.

Craning her neck to take it all in, she meandered between the large round dining tables. Each one would eventually be set with sparkling cream china and gleaming silverware, and each had a clear view of the orchestra section and the dais set up at the far end of the room. She imagined there would be many speakers during the celebration. A lot of standing and clapping, and all in high heels. She grimaced at how her feet would be aching by the end of the night.

Unrolling one of her sketches, she verified her arrangements would indeed work with the dining tables. Next she inspected the previously determined locations for the large potted palms. For forty minutes she walked the entire ballroom, making notations on her drawings as she went.

“Everything’s good to go,” she said to no one in particular. Except she still needed a backup driver. Whoever she hired would have to be strong enough to manhandle the heavy urns and not be squeamish about getting his hands dirty.

By the time the dozen or so urns were filled with soil and potted with palm trees and other cycads, they’d weigh far too much for her to be of any assistance. It would take two strong men to get the urns in and out of the truck and then maneuver them into position.

“Time to call the temp agency. Again,” she muttered, rolling up her design. And time to find Jack. There was so much to do and never enough hours in the day.

After one last look around the room she went back to the lobby. Pounding hammers and power drills echoed as contractors affixed new crystal sconces and period oil paintings on the mahogany walls.