I feel Belinda’s calculating eyes scour over me, the disdain on her face barely concealed.
I’m so unnerved, I barely notice that Henry has changed into the suit I dropped off for dry cleaning yesterday. The ends of his hair are damp, suggesting he had a shower. But where, and when?
“Paige, status update, please,” Henry demands, leaning far back in his chair, his one leg crossed over the other at the knee, his fingers lightly tapping a polished black shoe. He must have done that himself. I know I didn’t. Am I supposed to polish his shoes, too? “Abbi, take notes.”
I simply stare at the tiny Texan woman as she begins talking about housekeeping and hospitality issues over the past twenty-four hours, highlighting minor guest complaints and some process changes she has already put in place.
It’s not until Henry reaches over and softly taps my thigh with his knuckle that it registers. I haven’t been called to the Summit Room to be fired.
I’m here to scribe.
My body sinks into my chair with relief. I quickly tap out bulleted notes, focusing intently as one by one, each manager gives Henry an update on their area. Sally, a kind-looking blonde in charge of guest amenities, including the spa; Jean, the tiny Asian lady sitting across from me who coordinates all guest tours and programs; Pierre, the kitchen manager; and a thirty-something year old man named Ryan who runs all facilities and maintenance. He would have been my boss, had I ever worked a day with the Outdoor team. He has a big job, ensuring everything from the tulips in the garden to the float planes by the docks are in perfect working order. He also looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
Belinda interrupts every so often with a question of her own, or an instruction on how to handle. I’m not at all fond of her and I already know she doesn’t like me, but I’ll admit she sounds smart and sophisticated. I can see why Henry put her in that role.
And probably why he slept with her, seeing as he’s not attracted to silly little girls.
But I’m here to scribe notes, I remind myself with a small smile. That, I can handle.
“Any major complaints about facilities?” Henry asks Ryan.
“A few guests on the top floors have complained that their showers take too long to heat up.”
“Where is their hot water coming from?”
“Third floor.”
Henry’s jaw tenses. “I’m no engineer, but that sounds like a design flaw.”
Ryan clears his throat. “Yes, sir. I already have the plumbers working on installing additional hot water heaters specifically for that floor and rerouting the pipes. There is space in the fifth floor maintenance area.”
“Minimal disturbance to our guests, I hope?”
Belinda steps in smoothly. “I’ve already sent Cristal to their rooms. For those who complained, I’ve comped their first nights’ room stay.”
That’s thousands of dollars, just like that. Does it matter to a guy like Henry? To a hotel like this? I can’t comprehend the magnitude. To me, it sounds crippling.
Ryan’s expression is tentative as Henry regards him silently for a moment, cool and calm. “Do the same for the fourth floor.” He then turns to me. “Abbi, schedule a call with George Duncan for later today. He’s west coast.”
I mark it in my notes, pretending I know who that is. Hopefully I can find something in Henry’s inbox that tells me who George is. By his tone, I’m guessing the conversation isn’t going to be pleasant.
Henry moves on, dominating the meeting in a no-nonsense fashion, the tension radiating from him almost tangible. He is under a lot of pressure. Rightfully so, I guess. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to open a luxury hotel.
Each person around that table keeps their eyes glued to him, like they don’t want to miss a prompt. He intimidates them. That would make sense, seeing as he intimidates the hell out of me. He’s an entirely different guy from the patient one who taught me how to swing an ax, and the sheepish one who smiled as he held up the wrong tie and admitted to being color-blind.
And the vulnerable one I watched come apart by his own fist.
His hand sits on his brawny thigh, his fingers strumming a slow, rhythmic beat. The hand that was gripping his cock so tightly yesterday, pumping it from root to tip until he came.
I give my head a shake, scolding my filthy thoughts for veering that way so easily.
His hand suddenly stills. I feel that cool and yet iron-hot gaze on my profile, and my cheeks flush in response. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking. “Bookings?”
I force my mind back to the meeting.
“We are nearly booked solid through to August,” Belinda announces proudly, as if she single-handedly had something to do with that. “We have guests calling and asking about cancellation wait lists.”
Henry’s lips twitch. The only indication that he’s pleased. “The grand opening. Give me an update.”
Belinda punches something into her iPad. “All media outlets have RSVP’d and rooms have been assigned to ensure we have them prepped adequately.” She goes on to list names of people I don’t know but who must be critical attendees for the event, which sounds like a lavish ball.
Henry scribbles something on his notepad while she talks, and sets it on my lap, his knuckles brushing against my thigh.
Make sure my tux is in my closet. I don’t remember packing it.
I make a note to check when I get back to the cabin. It’s such a simple but personal request, and I find myself reveling in the fact I get to root through his closet for him.
Belinda is still talking. “You and I can go over the dossiers on everyone—”
He cuts her off with, “Send Abbi the rundown of each member attending. She’ll brief me directly.”
The corners of her mouth twitch. “Fine.” It’s curt and not at all pleasant.
“Any staff issues?”
“None so far.” Her eyes flicker toward me and I promptly avert my gaze. Would he have told her about yesterday? She seems to be in on everything else so far.
“Okay. Thanks, everyone. Abbi will send out a meeting request for tomorrow’s update.”
Just like when the bell rings in class, everyone scrambles to gather their things, ready to run.
Everyone except Belinda, who remains in her chair with one leg crossed over the other, the side slit in her skirt so high that it reveals the end of her garter. “Can I have a word with you?”
Henry gives her a fleeting gaze. “About?”
“Your father.”
He heaves a sigh and, resting his elbows on the table, he hooks his hands behind the back of his neck and bows his head. “Abbi, summarize and send out those notes to the group. Also, there are a few presentations I’ve printed out and made notes of in the margins sitting on my desk. Please summarize and send those off to the names listed on them for follow-up by tomorrow. And see if you can get me an hour-long in-room massage with Michael for this evening before dinner.”
“In-room?” He said he didn’t want anyone in his space.
“Yes. Text me with the time.” He sighs. “Okay, Belinda. What is it?”
I take that as my cue to leave, unscathed and still employed, and I take it without another word.
Chapter Fifteen
“Michael?” A towering man dressed all in black, his t-shirt stretched across a fit, lean body, stands outside the cabin, folded table at his side. He must be at least six-foot-four.
“That’s me.” He holds up his employee badge to prove it, the deep dimples in the picture matching the ones he flashes at me now. He has a disarming smile.
“Come in.” I step back, ducking my head to hide my inevitable blush, the one that burns any time an attractive man’s eyes are on me.
His arms strain as he lifts the table over the threshold before setting it back and running a hand through his sandy-blond cropped hair. “I’m guessing Mr. Wolf wants this set up over there?” He nods toward the windows overlooking the water, then looks to me, waiting for an answer. I catch his eyes dipping down to my chest but they shift back to my face quickly.