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1
TRISTANO
“I guessthis is what eight-hundred thousand dollars buys you.” I chuckle, cutting the engine and scanning the parking lot. But nothing about the state of this building is humorous.
St. Regis Place is a square, multi-story building with a flat roof and a dated sign showing the hotel's name. The place looks like something built in the late eighties, boxy with no curb appeal. The grey paint has faded, and the once-decorative vases at the entrance are cracked and an eyesore. Only two cars are in the parking lot, a sign of low patronage.
Stepping out of my brand-new Maserati, I fit a cigar between my lips and adjust my suit jacket. The morning is cold and cloudy, the perfect weather to punish an old “friend” for not getting his shit together. He would have lost the hotel anyway. If not for me, then someone else would have demanded the deed. There's something about being a compulsive gambler that pushes you toward inevitable doom.
My eyes settle on the sign above the front door as I approach the building. Maybe I'll rename the hotel. Something modern and attractive to capture the attention of tourists. Frank, my business partner, will come up with something else. He's good with names. As for me, I'm good with ideas, finances, and coercion when people forget to pay what is due.
I enter the hotel and force myself to remain planted. The acrylic paintings on the walls look cheap, and the air is stale. The structure is below my standards. But it’s not about what the building is worth, this is about teaching Jeff Wallace a lesson.
This place needs a total overhaul, starting with the staff. “Good morning, Sarah.”
She straightens when our eyes meet. Her nametag on her coffee-brown uniform reads Sarah with mix-matched letter stickers.
"Hello Mr. Baldi, Miss Wallace is awaiting your arrival."
"Let her wait."
Her lips tremble and swallow in a way I’ve only seen in cartoons—with her eyes bucked and her throat twitching. Then she drops her eyes to the countertop.
She seems to be in a state of shock. I get it. This all happened in a matter of days. Jeff owed the wrong people, I purchased his debt which means I’m their new boss.
Archaic decor, fidgety staff, and all.
Her antsy gaze lingers back up, and I catch her staring again. She must have heard about me, my typical responses from women swing from arousal to starstruck to utter fear. But it won’t help to have my new staff afraid of me, she has to get used to the new boss around here.
"Nervous?" I soften my voice, and she gives what I think is a nod. "Don’t be. Changes are gonna happen around here for sure, but it doesn't concern people like you."
She jerks her head continuously, and I flash her a disarming smile.
"Okay, Sarah. Whatever happens, your job is safe."
She exhales, folding forward. " Thank you, sir."
“Where’s Aurora?”
“The last room on the left. It’s our meeting room.”
I nod and turn away from the counter. My eyes dart to the sparkling vinyl floor. The interior of the hotel is in far better condition than the outside.
Sliding my hands into my pocket, I stroll down the hallway. A running tally of the cost of repairing this place is mounting with each step. After a few minutes, I get to the meeting room.
There’s a woman standing by the window with thick auburn waves hanging down her back. Her mid-length skirt does absolutely nothing to disguise her curvy frame and plump ass. I pause, not expecting my body to react without first seeing her face. But I don’t have to see it to know she’s beautiful.
My cock swells, and I close my eyes tight, hoping she doesn’t sense my presence. Her arms folded, looking out to the busy street. I assume with is Aurora Wallace, Jeff’s daughter and only child.
"Where’s your father?"
We're alone with no lawyers and no Jeff. The meeting room is small, with a simple conference table and chairs. I assess my surroundings without taking my eyes off her. Once again, Jeff’s left this bullshit for someone else to handle, and today that someone is Aurora. I thought he'd at least be man enough to hand the documents over himself.
"Do you think this is fair, Mr. Baldi?"Aurora looks over at me with unkind eyes, and I’m stilled by her icy blue eyes.
Harsh looks don't ruffle me. It comes with my life. People love getting bailed out, but they never love the consequences of getting entangled with me.
They want my money, my business acumen, but never me,the man. And it’s a truth I’ve accepted as part and parcel of my life as an enforcer for the Bianchi Mafia Family.
