The Opium Room (3 page)

“This wasn’t a good idea. I don’t think I’ll stick around to eat.” Lea scooted down the booth to get out, but Fox was blocking her.

“Please,” Fox said, “don’t go. Just sit here with Karrigan, enjoy your meal, and let me go handle my father while you reconsider staying. Will you do that for me?”

Lea let out a sigh. “I guess I’ll
think
about it. I can’t make any promises though.”

“That’s great. Have Karrigan show you to the bar at eight o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”

—Lea

Karrigan scooted into the booth next to Lea. Without a word, she dug into Fox’s plate of spaghetti.

Had Fox really come right out and said he was interested in Lea? She was still trying to convince herself that she wasn’t imagining things. A man like Fox couldn’t possibly see anything resembling sexy in her. She was boring, homely… and broke. After paying the hefty six–hundred–dollar fee for the conference and then another eight–hundred for the room, her checking balance had dwindled to fourteen–hundred twenty–two. And working freelance, incoming funds were never a guarantee. Lea was nothing like the swanky, rich women Fox was likely used to spending time with.

Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about Fox’s provocatively titled, personal concept room. He said no other women had slept in his room, but Lea had her doubts. Fox was a handsome, successful businessman. He could have his choice of just about any woman on the planet. He was worldly and experienced and Lea was… inexperienced. She hadn’t been with anyone else but Brandon. She wouldn’t know how to please a man of his caliber.

“Uh, excuse me,” Lea said. “What bar is he talking about meeting me at?”

“Right here in the hotel. It’s called Dilemma. Just stick with me and you won’t get lost.” Karrigan crossed a foot over mid–thigh and jiggled a red Converse stiletto tennis shoe mere inches from Lea. She shoved in another huge bite of spaghetti, and sucked in the strand of noodle that hung out.

Lea liked Karrigan. She was approachable and carefree, and anybody who rocked six–inch stilettos made of canvas had to be trendy.

If Lea was going to even entertain the idea of getting back into the dating scene, she was going to need someone like Karrigan to bring her up with the times.

After finishing her scrumptious plate of spaghetti alongside Karrigan, Lea sat back and rubbed her belly. “Good Lord, that was good.”

Karrigan licked the sauce from one corner of her mouth, then the other. “I know. My brother Erickson is the bomb! He runs both restaurants here. We’re twins.”

“Really? Is it just the three of you?”

“Yep, just us three—and Father, but I rarely see him. He stays in his suite upstairs like a recluse. I think he’s got a public phobia.”

“Your father must think Fox is a lady–killer. I mean… for him to say that comment.”

“What? About tearing off Fox’s balls?” Karrigan said loudly, as she twiddled a long strand of hair around her index finger.

Lea looked around the room, and luckily, no one stared… long. “Uh, yeah, about that.”

Underneath the table, Karrigan’s leg was swaying back and forth, back and forth, rocking the entire bench. It was making Lea nauseous.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Karrigan said. “Roman says that all the time. At the first sign of trouble, he’s threatening to cut off someone’s balls. Even mine. I think he was castrated in his previous life.” She let her hair unravel from her finger and her feet stilled. Her full eyebrows shot up toward the ceiling. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“Uh… I… never really thought about it,” Lea said.

“Humph.” Silence.

Right back to leg swinging and hair twirling.

So Karrigan was on her third or fourth life, and Roman was into the cruel and unusual. That was all nice, but still didn’t tell her what she really wanted to know. Was Fox a player or what?

Not that it mattered. Her mind was made up.

She was staying at the Sedgewick.

CHAPTER TWO

—Fox

As he rode the elevator up to the top floor, Fox fumed thinking how Karrigan had sabotaged him, whether she’d meant to or not. God, that girl was irresponsible, and even though she may not have a care in the world, some people did. At thirty years old, his priorities were beginning to change. He’d enjoyed his bachelorhood up to this point; it was the only feasible lifestyle for the last ten years. He’d run the hotel single–handedly while Roman barked orders from his wing back chair.

Now that he’d met someone who’d really made an impression, it was time to start taking his love life more seriously—if Lea would still have anything to do with him. He hoped she hadn’t left.

He stepped off the elevator, and just in front of him were the double doors to Roman’s lavish office, large enough to house the Duggars. Fox liked to humor his father, make him feel like his pedestal was still standing when the reality was, it wasn’t.

Fox hesitated to turn the knob as he knew what awaited him on the other side—a bunch of nonsense. In Fox’s opinion, most of Roman’s demands were ridiculous and not cost–effective to put it mildly. Like this partnership with Northside Hotel Consultants and their over–the–top representative, Jill Sandling. The woman created more problems for Fox; she certainly didn’t do her job and alleviate them.

Fox rubbed the back of his neck, and stopped putting off the inevitable.

“Foxworth, sit down,” Roman said, as Fox walked in. He gestured to a chair from the other side of his sleek–lined desk. “About damn time. I needed you here thirty minutes ago, so you could speak with Jill yourself. Just how in the hell did you let time get away from you? You knew she was coming today. Oh, and that reminds me, Jill wants to know who’s handling your calendar these days?”

“Are you finished, Father?” Fox asked, irritated. “I mean, is it possible that I can get a word in edgewise, or do you want to continue beating me under the table for the next half hour?”

“Might I remind you who you’re talking to, boy? If you want to be included in my will, I’d advise you to think hard before you take that tone with me again. Are we clear?”

Huge and foreboding, even at seventy–five, Roman Kemp was a man not to be toyed with. Fierce–tempered and strong–willed, Roman had managed his climb to the top by intimidating those who stood in his way. Fox had tried to emulate that approach to business, but could never pull it off very convincingly. What Fox did have over Roman was a mind for business. He’d didn’t have to puff up and bulldoze adversaries out of his way; he simply outsmarted them. And as far as the hotel, he managed every department himself. Except the cooking, of course.

“Yeah, we’re clear,” Fox said. “And Karrigan handles my calendar. Always has.”

“That’s your first mistake. Karrigan has too much going on to worry with your schedule. Jill said you need to hire a secretary.”

What Karrigan had
going on
was fraternizing with Hypnotic’s employees. You talk about AWOL. Fox had to cover for her ass on numerous occasions when she was supposed to be at the front desk. Later he’d find her holding up the counter at the bar chatting with Martin, the bartender. One time he’d gotten a positive identification on her inside
Get it While it’s Hot Bake Shop
, home of the sexual organ–shaped cakes, down at the shady edge of town. And God knows what she was doing there—Fox didn’t like to think about it, but presumed Karrigan was more sexually active than him and his brother put together. Erickson didn’t have time to date, spending all day going back and forth between the two on–site restaurants; Fox managed his time running the day–to–day operations.

“Jill’s wrong. I don’t need a secretary. I’m perfectly capable of handling my own affairs. And if you ventured down into the lobby yourself on occasion, you’d see that Karrigan is asking for trouble. She’s in with the wrong crowd and could really use some fatherly guidance.” Talk about a stretch—Roman had never taken a fatherly role in any of the kids’ lives. Why should it be any different now?

Truth be told, Fox couldn’t care less about taking up Karrigan’s slack; he spoiled his little sister as bad as anyone. Their mother had passed away from an infection when the twins were just a few weeks old, and Fox sympathized with both Erickson and Karrigan. But his heart went out to Karrigan the most; girls needed their mothers.

“I value your feedback,” Roman said. “I’ll have to take a look at the security footage and see what Karri’s up to.”

Fox looked up to the ceiling.
Oh, right, pull the footage. How idiotic of me to suggest that you drag your old bones downstairs and personally interact with your daughter.

“Now, let’s get right down to the matters at hand,” Roman said. “Two things. First—Jill audited the expense reports from the last year. Somehow they’re not adding up.”

“What do you mean—not adding up?” Fox had a degree in Finance and he meticulously prepared those reports himself. There’s no way he’d made a mistake. And all the money coming and going from the business account was personally handled by yours truly, right down to Roman’s paycheck. With the economic downturn, Roman had lost the tile business that had made him a wealthy man. Fox had given him an office job and a computer to sit in front of here at Hypnotic. That way he could at least feel like the almighty businessman he once was.

“She said it’s off by a huge amount,” Roman added, “but she’ll go over all the numbers with you later.”

Fox blew out, ran his fingers through his hair. One more thing to add to his to do list. “What else?”

“She wants to spend the night in our hotel. Says she needs to evaluate things from a guest’s perspective.”

“Are you serious?” Jill wasn’t worth what Roman had Fox overpaying her. This cemented Fox’s notion that she conjured up unnecessary recommendations simply to stay on the payroll.

“Yes, and she wants to stay right here on the fifth floor. Starting tonight. I already spoke with Erickson, and he said she could use his suite.”

Fox stood, and his chair rolled back. “What the hell? The fifth floor is exclusive to the Kemp family.” Even the elevator to that floor was private. Although they had their own houses, on occasion, any one of them might work late and wind up staying at the hotel.

“She said it would make it easier to quickly report her findings to either you or me.”

“And you’re okay with that? Absurd as it is?”

“Why not?” Roman said flippantly.

Fox sensed there was something more to it. Roman was slick, underhanded at times. Could he have a personal motivation? It certainly wasn’t because Jill was a professional dresser. Her business attire was about as subtle as the sun, more body parts exposed than covered. The woman was a beast, completely ridiculous looking with her flaming red hair and matching lipstick, liposuctioned–too–many–times waist, and breasts so enlarged it was a small miracle she stayed upright.

And then there was Lea. He wanted her to stay so badly. He needed to make a better second impression. But how would he accomplish that worrying that Jill was lurking around the corner. He’d look jumpy like he was guilty of something. What would he tell Lea if she asked what Jill was doing on the family floor? He was already juggling plausible explanations in his head. Before a situation arose, he had to head this off, which meant telling Roman all his business about Lea. Not that there was much to tell—yet.

“Look, Father,” Fox said calmly. “I know we don’t often engage in small talk, but I have to tell you, I’ve met someone whom I’m very interested in.”

Roman opened a side drawer on his desk and poured a brandy. Fox craned his neck attempting to guide Roman’s attention back to him. “She’s staying in my room— hopefully—while she’s in town,” he continued. “Jill could royally screw that up for me.”

Roman shrugged. Screwing the cap back on the bottle, he never looked up. “Tell the bitch you’ve got business with Jill. It’s the truth; I told her you would correspond with her about the expense reports at some point while she’s here.”

Fox should cut ties with Roman right now—once and for all. If he wasn’t his father, he would’ve long ago. As hard as Roman was making Fox’s life, he couldn’t muster up the courage to tell him to get the hell out of it.

“That’s perfect,” Fox said. “You’re unbelievable. I don’t know how my mother could stand you long enough to conceive three of your children. How Erickson, Karrigan, and I turned out halfway decent is beyond my comprehension.”

Roman didn’t flinch. Resilient old bastard.

It’d been a while since Fox had said something so cruel to his father, but it wasn’t the first time.

Wouldn’t be the last, either.

CHAPTER THREE

—Lea

After dinner, Karrigan ushered Lea onto one of two glass–encased elevators, which led to the hotel bar. After stepping off the elevator, a short catwalk led to the open–concept bar, which seemed to float above the hotel’s lobby, offering stunning views from above and below.

Karrigan pulled out a black velvet covered chair at the bar and tapped the seat. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Lea said. Before she sat, she carefully draped her cardigan over the back of the seat.

“Hey, Martin,” Karrigan called to the bow tie wearing bartender with the cropped black hair and five o’clock shadow. He was okay looking in a rugged sort of way. “Hook up my friend, Lea here, with a Beacon. I’ll have a Bud Light.”

“Coming right up, Karri.” He put two napkins on the bar and turned around to grab a glass off the shelf.

“What’s a Beacon?” Lea asked Karrigan.

“Cherry Grey Goose, Cherry St. Germaine, and a splash of Lime Juice. It’s awesome.”

“Sounds good to me.” Lea was an avid coffee drinker and that was about it. Alcoholic beverages were foreign to her but anything cherry, she presumed, had to be good. And she could stand to loosen up some before Fox returned.

Lea almost panicked when Karrigan began unbuttoning her long–sleeved, pressed, tan shirt. Then she noticed the red tank top underneath. Karrigan removed the button–up and set it on the chair beside her. “God, I hate having to dress so prim and proper for the front desk. I can wear whatever shoes I want though. She raised the leg of her khaki pants and wiggled her Converse pump where Lea could see. “People can’t see behind the counter.”