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“No. A little rough around the edges.”
“Good. Is it good?”
“It’s very good, Lucky Charm. He owns this hotel, among other things.”
‘That’s weird.’ Queasy flutters in my gut. ‘Wolfe. Same last name as those brothers.’
“So, the gruff guy who owns this hotel -- he’s like the CEO of a ginormous conglomerate or something?” I ask, chewing on a fry.
“Yes on his being the CEO. No on the conglomerate. It’s a family-run company. He owns the majority share. He’s some kind of wunderkind. He had a weird accident in high school and it set his brain on fire. He was a multi-millionaire by the time he left Stanford. He brought his brother into the business and they expanded.”
Queasy’s wound up like a Golden Retriever doing anxious laps around my stomach.And I know it’s one of the Wolfe brothers. The guy Dylan’s talking about is either Wyatt or Easton Wolfe. “What’s his name?” I ask, my palms sweating.
“Easton Wolfe.”
I stop chewing. The blood drains from my fingers. “Did you meet his brother?”
“Nope. You okay? Is there something wrong with the food?”
“The food’s great. I think I know the guy.”
“A lot of people know Easton Wolfe. He’s got his finger in a lot of pies. He has companies all over the globe.”
“This is different,” I say.
“Different? Oh. He was a client? Did something happen? Say the word and we can change hotels. We don’t need to stay here. You’re more important than a comped room.”
“Nota client.” I shake my head. “Just a guy I know from a long time ago. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“And I doubt you’ll see him here, either. I’ve played a few tournaments at this hotel and I’ve never run into him. Easton Wolfe is constantly traveling. But it’s your call, baby. I’ll do whatever you want me to. I want you to feel safe. I want you to feel comfortable.”
I hate lying, I’m shitty at it. I might be forced into the occasional white lie in the course of work but I will not lie to myself. Those days have come and gone. The universe has a fucked up sense of humor. I’ve circled back around to the Wolfe brothers. They just don’t know it yet. But I do. Can I live with that?
‘Yes,’ Hope says. ‘You are not a rickety shed. You survive when the storm blows through. This isn’t even a squall.’
And I remind myself I’m not just here to have fun or be comfortable. I’m here for Dylan and I’m here for the job. “I’m okay. We can stay here. It’s fine.”I will deal with these feelings later.
“Good,” Dylan says. “Not that it matters but my room’s comped. The food’s comped. A few shows are comped.”
“Am I comped?”
“No, darling. You’re definitely not comped.” He leans over and kisses me. He tugs my lower lip with his teeth. His breath is warm against my face, and I want his mouth everywhere on my body. My neck. My breasts. My sex. I give my head a shake. I’ve got to leave the pleasure zone and return to business. Get straight for the game. I reluctantly pull away from him.
“By the way,” Dylan says. “Your rate’s doubled.”
“About that…”
He shakes his head. “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
The waiter stops by. “Can I get you more drinks?”
“No thanks.”
“We’re good, thanks,” Dylan says.
“I can’t drink before a game,” I say. “Probably shouldn’t have had this one. I’ll fall asleep and then I’ll snore. They’ll never ask you back.”
“They’ll ask me back as long as I’m staked and capable of losing money. I forgot to tell you,” he says. “I already played the game. I did pretty good. A hundred thousand up.”
