I spend the rest of my time running from meeting to meeting. How can we move forward into the future? That’s what’s on the plate for today. The catch is I’m done moving forward. All I want to do is stay stationary.
It’s enough running the biggest hotel chain in all of Detroit. What else could I want? World domination? No, thanks.
I’ll settle with the Napolitano girl. She’s my prize, my one and only piece of ass. I can’t get her out of my head.
I check my phone again, but there’s nothing there. It’s past one o’clock, and I have my doubts she’s coming.
Hours later, still no response. By the time everyone has gone home, I’m still in my office doing paperwork.
I can’t believe it.
She stood me up.
Madison
The next morning, I don’t even have time to think.
A knock on my door brings me right out of my luscious dream with Mr. Morelli, and I’m forced to answer the door in my silk nightgown.
“What is it?” I ask, shielding my eyes from the sunlight.
Standing in the doorway is one of Byron’s men. Well, one of our men, technically.
Once my father passed, Byron turned the place into a surreal nightmare. He has a team of people waiting to serve him at any second. Most of them have little experience in the business. They sure have the muscle to intimidate.
The man stands, staring at my breasts. I cover my chest, glaring back. “Well, spit it out. You woke me up. It’s eight in the morning.”
“You’re to come with me, ma’am,” the man says.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Rudy, ma’am,” he says, without blinking an eye.
His suit is cheap. By the threading, I can tell it’s a knockoff. I’m not surprised.
“Do yourself a favor and never call me ma’am again, Rudy. You seem like a nice guy, but you’re overstepping your boundaries. Now, what do you need from me at this hour?” I ask.
“Byron needs to see you in his office, right away,” he says, holding his hand out for me.
Sighing, I swing the door open. “I am not going to the office looking like this,” I scoff. “Give me ten minutes. Come in, make yourself at home.”
I run to my bedroom and throw something easy on. There’s no time for a shower. Byron hates it when people don’t show up on time. It’s his thing.
I walk out of the room wearing jeans and a cut off t-shirt. It’s not professional at all, but it’s what I could muster right now. If Byron is going to send in his goons to wake me from my wonderful dreams, I’m not about to put any effort into my office attire.
Rudy eyes me up and down, and smiles.
“You look good,” he says. “But Byron will not be happy.”
The guy has a slight accent. I’m willing to bet all my money his name isn’t Rudy. It’s Joey or Tony, or Vincent.
“Well, I’m not in the business of making Byron happy, am I?”
No response.
We drive to the place in a Hummer, which seems out of place for a five-minute drive. Hell, a taxi would’ve suited me just fine.
The drive itself is silent and boring. I keep checking my watch every five minutes. It’s close to 8:30.