“She has a long list of calls to return, Jared. Why do you need her to”
“It’s okay, Scotty. I brought some food so I can work through lunch, if I need to.”
I watch her as she kicks off those damn fuzzy pink slippers from last night––she must’ve changed the second she walked back out here––and slips her feet back into her red heels. Standing, she grabs a tablet from her desk and looks at me expectantly. Meanwhile, Scotty is shooting me the evil eye, which I ignore.
I always walk the floor alone. I like to make sure everything is running smoothly, our guests are having a great time, and soak in the legacy my father left me. So, Scotty knows I’m just being ornery, dragging Sophie along with me.
And her ready acceptance and offer to work through lunch is making me feel like an even bigger ass.
But it’s too late to backtrack now. I head for the elevator, leaving Sophie to trail behind me. The doors slide open as soon as I press the button, and we step inside. I catch a glimpse of Scotty’s disgruntled expression just before the doors close, and I frown.
The man has been my assistant for years, and we’ve been friends for nearly as long. Yet, in a handful of days, Sophie has managed to win him over, planting him firmly in her camp. It’s the same with Sam.
What is it about this infuriating woman that has them shifting alliances? Do they see something I don’t? Or is she deliberately baiting me while showing them her charming side?
I glance up at her reflection in the mirrored doors. I meet her gaze for a split second before it darts away from me, down to the tablet in her hands. I swallow thickly and clear my throat, and her gaze lifts back up, meeting mine in the reflection.
I open my mouth to speak, but the elevator dings as it hits the ground floor. The doors swish open, and I snap my mouth closed. Holding out a hand, I invite Sophie to exit the car before me.
I do have some manners.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, stepping out.
As soon as I start walking, she falls into place beside me. I take my usual route around the casino floor. The place is never truly empty, but weekday mornings like this are typically slow. I see a few familiar faces, tipping my head in their direction when they notice me and wave.
These are the people that matter. My regular patrons who love the penny slots and only spend a hundred bucks a week are just as important as the whales who fly in twice a year and spend millions. These people knew my dad, because he made a point of welcoming them and making them feel special. I strive to do the same.
“They know who you are.”
Sophie’s voice, though soft and quiet, rips me out of my thoughts and my feet grind to a halt. The words weren’t scathing or spoken in anger. She didn’t sound frustrated or fed up with me. She sounded sincere and possibly even touched.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, my surprise at her gentle tone making me forget what she said in the first place.
“These people,” she says waving a hand around to encompass the entire space, “know who you are. And I can tell they like you.”
Her expression shifts to one of exaggerated disbelief, and I do the unthinkable. I smile. A real, unfettered, teeth-revealing smile.
Sophie’s lips curve up when she sees it. The grin quickly drops, and she clears her throat before stiffening her spine. My own smile fades just as quickly, and I start walking again, a little faster than before.
I know she’s an employee––and a temporary one at that––but I can’t ignore the way my pulse picked up when she turned that smile on me. Or the way my mood slumped when she caught herself and forced that smile away.
My emotions are all over the place where she’s concerned, which is never a good thing, but I can see she’s putting in an effort to wipe out the negative energy between us and be civil, at the very least. If her behavior this morning is any indication, she wants to try and create peace between us so every day isn’t a constant battle.
I close my eyes for a beat and let out a long breath.
I don’t know how long it will take me to find a new assistant, and Sophie could possibly be here for weeks. If she’s willing to let bygones be bygones and attempt to get along with me, then I can do that, too.
Or at least, I can try.