Cocky Prince

by Jules Barnard

  “Excuse me?” This time, I didn’t intentionally frustrate her, so I’m interested in how I accomplished it so easily.

  She plasters on a tight smile. “It’s nothing. I came because I wanted to know if you’ve heard anything about the burlesque dancers. Did William decide on subcontractors?”

  I take in the unaffected expression she’s trying to pull off. Then, because I can’t help myself, my gaze dips. She’s wearing a navy skirt with small white polka dots and a sheer blouse that I’d be able to see through if it weren’t for that unfortunate camisole. Hayden isn’t short, and in her nude heels, the top of her pretty head hits me at eye level. The heels, I note, have a sexy strap across the ankle, sending images of binding her flashing through my mind, though I’m not normally into that.

  With Hayden, all bets are off on what is normal for me. I can see myself doing a lot of things I wouldn’t normally do, just to rouse her, or—shit—make her happy.

  Where did that come from?

  I clear my throat. “Hayden, are you trying to probe for inside information?”

  She steps the rest of the way into my office and closes the door.

  My heart rate increases at the thought of being alone with her, visions of her naked still close to the surface. I raise an eyebrow. “Do we need privacy?”

  “Stop being difficult. It’s a simple question. I just want to know what company William settled on.” She moves next to me, tilting her sloped hip against my desk in a similar pose to mine, only her figure is a work of art. She reaches out and absently fingers my glasses.

  I glance down. “You have a thing for glasses? I’d be happy to put them back on.”

  She quickly withdraws her hand. “What? No!”

  A knock sounds at the door, and Bridget’s head peeks around the corner. She looks from Hayden’s blushing face to me. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in a meeting. Should I come back?”

  “It’s fine, Bridget,” I say. “What can I do for you?”

  She pushes the door open all the way, carrying her purse and a sheet of paper. “I’m off to go shopping. There are some things from…my previous place of employment that Eve wants me to pick up. In the gift shop,” she says carefully.

  Given Bridget was a stripper before I hired her, I pinch the bridge of my nose, imagining exactly what Eve has in mind.

  “Oh! Don’t worry,” Bridget adds quickly. “Eve ordered most of the items she needs online. There are just a few things my old work sort of…specialized in. A few products I recommended.”

  I glance quickly to Hayden, whose brow is furrowed. “Yes. Fine,” I say. “You’ll be reimbursed.”

  Bridget leaves and Hayden’s eyes narrow. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her delicate jaw shifts. “Why must you be so difficult? I’m trying to be civil here.”

  “Civil,” I say, rolling the word over my tongue and studying her pert expression.

  “Yes. Civil. We’re work friends, right?” Her look is almost eager now, which is new. Hayden has never expressed an interest in friendship, for business purposes or otherwise.

  “Are we? I didn’t realize.”

  “Forget it.” She turns to leave, but I grab her hand. She barely budges, keeping her distance, which is predictable. She wants something, and it’s not friendship.

  I let go of her hand. “I apologize. Arguing with you is a bad habit.” I reach back and grab the edge of the desk I’m leaning against to keep from touching her again. “Yes, we’re work friends. And no, I haven’t heard anything about whom William wants to hire for the burlesque, but I have a meeting with him next week. I’m assuming the decision-making will take place then.”

  She smiles, but I don’t trust it. Hayden’s smiles are few and far between, and never aimed at me with any sort of honesty. “Was that so difficult?”

  I tap my finger on the desk. “Is that all, or would you like me to put my glasses back on?”

  Her face flushes and she swallows. “No. I should go.” She scurries out the door, and I stare at her hips swishing back and forth in agitation.

  Sweet Hayden has a nerd fetish. I shouldn’t be surprised, given her bookish tendencies.

  I return to my computer. It’s late, but I’ve got a busy week ahead. I’d like these dozen or so interviews to go smoothly. I enjoy interviewing about as much as I enjoy dinner with my father, which is to say, not at all. The sooner the bodyguards and burlesque dancers are hired, the sooner I can keep Hayden from snooping and expressing undue interest in my business at Blue.

  Bridget’s two-week anniversary and the day I win the bet with Hayden can’t come quickly enough.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hayden

  My little birdies (a.k.a. Mira and Nessa) tell me Adam has had interviews lined up over the last two days. The interviews have all taken place in the large conference room, which is completely soundproof, dammit. Not that I haven’t walked past several times to test the theory.

  Time to pay a visit to Adam’s new assistant. I’m a manager. She can’t refuse my inquiries. Unless Blackwell warned her off the way he has the Blue Star managers… Fingers crossed he’s done what he always does, and left the secretaries and assistants to their own devices.

  Pain in the ass though he is, Adam doesn’t cater to Blackwell’s every wish like the rest of the managerial herd. It must explain why he still talks to me. I don’t think Adam would have told Bridget to stay away from me.

  I drink the last of my twenty-ounce super espresso latte, type out one final email to the data manager who’s updating our HR system, and shake out my pleated skirt. It’s an icebox in the casino with all of the indoor air conditioning, but between the hot drink and the hyped-up energy I have over conducting sneaky reconnaissance while Adam is tied up in meetings, my face is flushed.

  Grabbing a notepad, I hurry out the door before I lose my nerve—and Mira barrels into me.

  “Back, back—go back!” She shoves me inside. “You can’t snoop.”

  “Why not? You just texted me that the coast is clear.”

  “It was, but your dad showed up.” Her eyes are wide and harried.

  “What? Why?” I say, mostly to myself. My family moved to Reno after the high school incident. They come down to visit, but never unannounced.

  She holds up her hands in exasperation. “You’re asking me? And never mind that. He’s talking to Adam.”

  “I thought you said Adam was in an interview.”

  “Well, he’s not. He’s talking to your dad.”

  Anxiety fills my chest. “That needs to stop, like, right now. I don’t want Adam getting friendly with my dad. What does he think he’s doing?”

  Mira twists my shoulders around, opens the door, and shoves me out. “You should go ask him, because he’s looking a little too comfortable with your father and you might want to put an end to that.”

  Thin as she is, Mira has a hell of a heave. I catch myself before I trip in my heels and face-plant.

  I peer down the hallway, and just as Mira said, my dad and Adam are talking several doors away. My father is even laughing at something Adam said.

  Adam looks up and catches sight of me first, a knowing expression crossing his face.

  What is that? This is my reconnaissance mission, not Adam’s day to infiltrate my personal life. I sweep down the hallway, and Adam’s gaze drops to my hips, his mouth turning up at the corners. I stop in front of him and glare.

  My dad looks from Adam to me, appearing confused. I’m usually more polite than this, but my dad has no idea how much Adam presses on my every last nerve.

  “Hayden,” Adam says. “I didn’t realize your dad was a Warriors fan.”

  I stare at him. Who cares if my dad is a Warriors fan?

  Apparently, men do, because my dad grins, as though those are all the credentials he needs, and says, “Go Dubs.”

  I blow out a frustrated breath. “Dad, what are you doing here? Were we supposed to meet? I
don’t have it on my calendar.”

  “Well, no. I was in town and thought I’d drop by.”

  “Oh.” I sound disappointed. Crap, of course I want to see my dad. The problem is I’d just psyched myself up for this information-gathering mission while Adam was supposedly preoccupied.

  I turn my shoulder to inch Adam out of the conversation. For some reason he’s still standing here. “That’s great, Dad. Do you want to grab dinner? I’ll be off in a couple of hours.”

  “Actually, honey, Adam here just offered to give me a tour.”

  I cast an irritated glance at Adam, who’s smiling. “But Dad, I gave you a tour at the last casino where I worked. Don’t you remember?”

  “Sure, honey, but this is Blue Casino. I’ve always wanted to check this place out. See how they run the fancy ones.” He grins cheekily.

  Well, shit, then Adam’s the perfect person to give my dad a tour. He’s behind everything, along with the rest of Blackwell’s Blue Stars. “Sorry, Dad. I didn’t realize. I’d be happy to take you around.”

  He squeezes my arm and plants a kiss on my cheek. “No, no—you go back to work. I’ll make a quick sweep with Adam here, and return later to pick you up. How does five thirty sound?”

  I can’t hide the hostility rolling off me in waves as I stare daggers at Adam. Why is he befriending my father? And how did he wrap my shrewd father around his rich-boy finger so quickly?

  “Can you give us a quick sec, Dad?” Not waiting for my father’s reply, I pull Adam into the nearest empty room, which happens to be the facility manager’s office.

  I shut the door and whirl around on him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Taking your father for a tour?” the jackass says, all innocence.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “No?” He chuckles as if he’s getting some sort of pleasure out of this.

  “You’re up to something. Do you think this will somehow get you out of our bet?”

  He steps toward me. “Why would I want that? I’m looking forward to winning.”

  For a split second I’m ruffled by his suggestive tone and nearness—which I consider progress, considering how much his presence disarms me. “Leave my father out of this.”

  Adam’s face grows serious and his voice softens. “Hayden, he was lost and I was giving him directions. When he explained he was your father, we started talking. That’s all. I offered to give him a tour, because he said he’d never been here before. Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve worked at Blue nearly a year and you haven’t offered him one.”

  Okay, fine. I’m a bad daughter. But in my defense, I had no idea my dad was interested in Blue. He’s never mentioned it before. “A tour and that’s all?”

  “I promise to have him back in plenty of time for your dinner date.” He inches back, giving me space to walk past him and leave, but I suddenly realize the importance of where we are. This is the facility manager’s office—the guy with access to every room in this entire building.

  Adam follows my gaze. “I don’t like that scheming look in your eye. What are you thinking?”

  Why didn’t I consider it before? Adam and his assistant aren’t who I should focus my reconnaissance on. There are people with information at their fingertips that could be more helpful. And they’re not even a part of the Blue Stars.

  “Hayden, did you hear me?”

  I walk toward the door. “Better hurry up, Adam. My dad’s waiting.”

  He opens the door, still frowning, and I pass him, but I can feel his heated gaze on my back.

  I smile at my father. “All set, Dad. Adam will give you the tour.”

  My dad’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Will he? Well, I’m glad you’ve decided.”

  I give my dad a hug goodbye. So it looks suspicious that I dragged Adam into a room to talk in private. But my father hasn’t a clue about the things going on at Blue, and it’s best that way. He’d worry, and the point of returning to Lake Tahoe wasn’t to give my parents another reason to worry. It was to show them and the world that I’d risen above what happened in the past.

  I shoot Adam a glare. “Take care of him.”

  Adam responds to my warning with a charming grin that has probably persuaded hundreds of unsuspecting parents to hand their precious daughters into his safekeeping. I’d be concerned, except that my father can take care of himself.

  I head off toward my office. Oh, not for long. I fully intend to return to the facility manager’s room. Just as soon as I confirm with Mira that the space will be empty for at least half an hour.

  I peer down the hall to make sure no one sees me, and quickly enter the facility manager’s office, closing the door behind me. Mira says I have forty-five minutes until the manager returns.

  I rush to the desk rimmed in every bobblehead ever created, and carefully look through the paperwork on top. Just a hint of where the secret suite is located—some sort of building site plan—that’s all I need.

  The paperwork on the desk is for a vendor lease, another stack for an energy efficiency plan—none of it what I’m looking for.

  Opening the desk drawers, I sift through files on security services, parking services… Come on, buddy, where do you keep information on secret suites?

  There’s no way the facility manager isn’t in on the suite Mira and Tyler found. He has access to everything going on in the building. I slam the drawer shut, and all the bobbleheads nod their agreement. It’s got to be here somewhere.

  Scanning the rest of the room, my gaze stops on a tall file cabinet in the corner. One of the drawers is locked, but the others aren’t. I head over and open them one by one. And strike gold. The manager keeps site plans for the building as well as work repair documents in the file cabinet. I’m definitely getting warmer.

  Riffling through the papers, I find nothing out of the ordinary. Which coincides with the other digging I’ve done. I’ve searched every hotel floor at Blue Casino and have yet to find a suite that doesn’t look like all the others. One of the floors has been under construction for months, but it was the first place I looked. The completed portions check out. These documents do too.

  I shut the bottom drawer of the cabinet and stare at the top, locked drawer. If someone wanted to hide something, it would be under lock and key.

  I hurry back to the desk and search for keys. I’m running out of time, and the facility manager has about two hundred keys in his desk to choose from. Only a few are small enough and look like they might fit. Grabbing the small keys, I scramble back to the cabinet and I try each in the locked drawer. None of them work.

  Crap. I look around once more. The office is simple: a desk and chair, the cabinet, and a shit ton of bobbleheads. Most of the bobbleheads are sports themed, but a few are interesting, including a jaunty little skeleton pirate with a square treasure chest…

  A treasure chest that looks like it opens.

  I return the keys to the desk drawer and stare at Mr. Pirate’s treasure chest. I reach over and flip the lid.

  And see a small key inside.

  Holy shit.

  I grab the key and carry it to the drawer, my hands shaking. I slide the key in the lock and it turns, the cabinet opening for me.

  Locked cabinet drawers are suspicious, but that’s not why my heart is blasting through my eardrums—the row of files labeled Bliss inside the drawer is why. Everything I’ve found so far I could identify as something I’ve seen or heard of before at the casino, but not Bliss. I’ve never heard of this project, and as a manager, I should have.

  Pulling out a handful of folders, I cross to the desk and lay them out.

  The penthouse wing has been under construction for months. Blackwell told us a while ago that it was being renovated, and it was the first place I searched after Mira and Tyler found the suspicious guest room. The penthouse suites checked out, but according to the Bliss files, one half of the penthouse level—a portion separated by an outdoor veranda—is entirely different fro
m the other half. And this portion of the floor has been blocked off from employee access these last few months while under construction.

  According to these documents, there are four suites, each with the same layout. And they are so large as to be ludicrous. We have wealthy patrons who stay in our regular penthouse suites, which cost a couple of grand. Those rooms are booked for special events, at the most, and I’ve never heard of anyone leaving disappointed. The only reason the casino updates them is to keep current with trends. But maybe there was another purpose for the timing of the remodel.

  The four Bliss suites that take up the second half of the penthouse floor are insanely extravagant, with a bar, an elaborate living area, their own elevator, and almost no windows—which is odd. The penthouse suites are known for their sweeping decks and views of the mountains and lake.

  This whole time, I thought Blackwell switched rooms for his illicit activities. But what if instead of sneaking them in with the scenery, he’s created a new space for them? One so conspicuous it blends with the existing high standard of the penthouse floor?

  Technically, no one has been allowed to look at that section of the penthouse floor. Sending unauthorized employees to a construction zone is a liability for the casino. The noise alone forced us to block off the floor beneath in order to maintain a standard of quality for hotel guests. But when I consider it, not allowing people onto those top floors has also provided a buffer and a level of privacy for whatever they want to do up there.

  The Bliss suites are huge, their layouts strange, and based on the floor plan, there’s no reason they couldn’t serve the same role as the suite Mira and Tyler stumbled upon. This has to be it.

  Male voices sound outside the facility manager’s door.

  I look up, then glance at the files spread haphazardly across the desk. “Shit.”

  I slap the files closed and race to the cabinet, shoving them back inside the drawer and locking it. I could pretend I was leaving a note for the facility manager. Which means I need to create one, dammit.