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“Can you not manage one day without treating me like a child?”
Arthur stared at him for a beat. Then he said, “What did I ever do to you except clean up all your disasters? Do you have any idea what I’m doing for you to keep you out of trouble?”
“Shagging her, right? Poor you.”
Arthur scoffed. “It’s a little more than that.”
“You want me to give you a medal?”
“You could at least say thank you.”
“Don’t pretend you’re doing me any favors,” Charlie said. “You got exactly what you wanted—one more reason to hate me.”
Charlie got up and left without another word.
The waitress brought Arthur the bill. As usual, he paid for them both.
* * *
When Zoot answeredthe penthouse door, she dropped into a low and surprisingly graceful curtsy. “Good evening, my lord,” she said. “You’re early.”
“Good evening, my lady,” Arthur said with an equally sarcastic but well-executed bow. “I am.”
That got a small, almost sincere smile out of Zoot. He entered, carrying a small framed art print wrapped in canvas. It was seven-thirty. Traffic had been light, and he didn’t feel like waiting in the lobby now that he’d been seen waltzing with Regan. He hoped she’d forgive him being early this once.
“The boss lady’s in her private office. This way,” Zoot said, showing him to a small room down the hall to the left of the fireplace. She knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for an answer before opening it. “Lady Ferry, Lord Dogshit here to see you,” she announced.
Regan was seated behind an enormous ornately carved mahogany desk. A lion’s head was carved into the front panel, with lion’s paws for the feet.
“Thank you, Zoot,” Regan said, barely glancing up from her papers. “Is it eight already?”
“He’s early, Boss,” she said before slipping out the door, leaving them alone.
Regan’s hair was in a French plait again, falling elegantly over her shoulder. She wore a black dress, short with a deep V neckline. A long strand of pearls was looped twice around her neck, first flush with her throat and then dangling between her breasts. He couldn’t stop staring at her. The dream of them endlessly fucking came back to him in a rush that left his heart racing. If she’d let him, he’d have her on her desk right that second.
“Nice desk,” he said, trying to focus on anything but sex.
“Your great-grandfather’s,” she said. “When he died, the hotel seized his belongings since he owed The Pearl so much money. Unfortunately he didn’t leave the keys to the desk. You don’t have his old keys, do you? I’ve been trying to get into the bottom drawer for years.”
He heard her toeing the drawer with the tip of her shoe.
“I’ll ask Dad, but I don’t think so,” he said.
Zoot stuck her head in the door. “Going now unless you need anything more?” She pointed a thumb at Arthur. “Want me to show this one out?”
“No, thank you,” Regan said breezily.
“You sure?”
“Very sure.”
“You sure you’re sure?”
“Zoot. Goodnight.”
“Night, Boss.” In an exaggerated posh accent, she added to Arthur, “And prithee goodnight, my lord and liege.”
“Ta,” Arthur said. When he heard the penthouse door close, he turned back to Regan. “I don’t think she likes me very much.”
