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“That looks like rat poison.” I have a distinct memory of Mom making rat poison for the infestation we had in Florida.
Knight gives me an incredulous glare. “Rat poison? Of all the things you can think of, that comes to mind?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s not rat poison, or any other.”
When he holds my glass out for me to take, I stare at it with the hesitation of a deer crossing the freeway.
“Take it,” he insists.
Against my better judgment, I do and give it a sniff to check it’s okay for human consumption. Surprisingly, it has the sweet smell of cotton candy.
I brave tasting it and am pleasantly surprised by the delicious orange and strawberry flavor. It reminds me of days spent at the carnival when I was little.
“Wow, it actually tastes good. What is it?”
Knight flashes me a wolfish grin, cunning and calculative. “Some secrets shouldn’t be shared.”
“Fair enough.” I smirk. “At least it tastes good. And as far as I know, it’s not poisonous.”
“Nope.” He finishes his drink in one gulp, sets the empty glass on the counter, then makes his way to the desk to lean against it. There he watches me while I finish off my drink. “What are your questions for me?”
I allow my gaze to roam his face and try to look past his hard exterior.
Everything about him seems thought out and guarded. I imagine being that way must help him stay one step ahead at all times. But what’s his story? Something about him doesn’t match up with who he presents to the world. Like those sculptures and sketches in the workshop.
As curious as I am about them, they don’t matter. What matters is his next steps for me and the one asset of value to my name.
“What do you want with Sunset Cove?” I keep my gaze fixed on him, letting him see this question is most important to me. “I’m sure it’s not just one of your collection of assets.”
“No, it’s not.”
“So, what do you want with it?”
“I’m still trying to figure out that part. However, I’m sure you can imagine how lucrative owning such an establishment is, given its location, popularity, and especially its rich history.”
“I can.” The history part was why Mom loved it and what sparked her ideas for the 1940s theme.
The forties were when Sunset Cove all began and every celeb in Hollywood stayed there. Old pictures hang in the hallways of Frank Sinatra and other members of the Rat Pack, Bing Crosby, Cole Porter, and then later in the fifties, stars like Marilyn Monroe and Vivien Leigh.
“With the right help, a resort like that can turn an easy seven-figure sum with little effort.” He rests his palms on the edge of the desk. “With the lease set to expire in a matter of days, I wanted in. As far as I’m aware, you weren’t looking to renew the lease with the current subcontractors or anyone else.”
“We weren’t going to renew anything.Iwasn’t.”
I steel my spine and stare at him head on. His explanation makes sense, but why do I feel he’s leaving something out?
Because he is.
If it’s one thing I’ve learned about this man, it’s that he’s crafty as fuck and he’ll only let you in on his plans when you’ve been dragged in headfirst and you’re already fighting for your life.
“Sunset Cove was never supposed to go back on the market.” My gaze travels over the smooth tan skin of his neck.
“Well,Ifound a way.”
His simple tone infuriates me, reminding me he’s nothing but a well-dressed shark. He stole me and my legacy, and it means nothing more to him than a lucrative investment. One my father could have used and didn’t. Dad didn’t even seem to contemplate it.
“You certainly did.” As it stands now, once this is over, I walk away with nothing but my ten percent ownership and the knowledge that I saved my father. Other than saving Dad, I’ll have so much less than what I started out with. Before this disaster, at least I knew if things went south with my career, I’d have Sunset Cove. “What next?”
