“Let’s skip everything we planned. Order room service. Drive to the beach. Whatever we can do to ignore real life.”
She laughed. “Funny. I run a multi-billion-dollar organization. I don’t have days off. Hand me my phone? If I don’t check in with Kimble in the next few minutes he will freak out and show up with a gun pointed at your face.”
“He always points a gun at my face.”
She shrugged. “True. It’s his job.”
I strolled to the foyer table and walked back through the suite with her phone.
“We are going to have breakfast.” I eyed her.
“I need my phone.”
“Breakfast?”
She sighed. “Yes, breakfast.” She smiled slyly.
I handed her her purse and walked to the bathroom while she checked in with her bodyguard. I brushed my teeth and started the shower.
I cracked the door. “Join me?”
She nodded. The phone was pressed to her ear. “Just a few more minutes,” she mouthed.
“I’ll start without you.” I winked, closing the door so the steam could collect inside.
I stepped inside the shower. The water felt good. So did the bath last night. We had talked for hours. Had tub sex. More sex. Talked again until we fell asleep.
I lathered the soap between my palms. I kept watching the door, waiting for Kennedy. I thought I heard the outside door slam. I turned off the water and grabbed a towel.
I stepped from the glass enclosure and wrapped the towel around my waist. “Kennedy, what’s taking so long?”
I stared at the bed. It was empty. I wandered to the kitchen. She wasn’t in the suite. I spotted the brass key on the table by the front door. Next to it was the necklace. I lifted it in the air. The diamonds sparkled around the pearl. The inscription swung back and forth. Carpe Noctem. We had done that last night. More than once.
There was a note scribbled on the hotel stationery, pinned to the hotel latch on the door. What was going on? I yanked it off the lock.
I know it’s you. You’re BONO.
That was all it said. I clasped the pearl in my hand. Shit. How did she find out? Paul had combined a shell company on top of shell company to protect the PAC’s identity.
The water from the shower puddled at my feet. I closed my eyes. She wasn’t coming back to the suite. That note might as well have been a death threat. She was going to come after me with everything she had.
I had to be ready.
I needed a plan to get her back.
1
Kennedy
Five Years Earlier
“Again.” My father nodded. He should have been a ballet instructor. His voice was terse and the way he tapped the table it was if he was rapping a walking cane on the barre. Whack. Tap. Whack. Tap. It was an analogy he would have hated, no matter how accurate it was.
“We’ve been doing this for hours.” I winced as soon as I realized how whiny the statement was. He didn’t tolerate objections. Especially, not in the form of weakness. I was his daughter, which meant I had to work twice as hard as if I had been his son. I had to prove my worthiness. Demonstrate my critical thinking. Outsmart the other men in the room. Still be beautiful, feminine and graceful. I had to have only wins on the scoreboard. I couldn’t afford to screw up even once. It was never going to be simple to gain his trust.
Tammy, the housekeeper, had just entered my father’s office with a tray for lunch. I was supposed to be grateful for the salad. Yet, another part of the burden no son would have to deal with. I had to fit in the tiniest of cocktail dresses.
“Afraid your tan is fading?” His eyes narrowed. I hated that scowl as much as I hated the contempt in his voice. I didn’t have time to lounge by the pool anymore. All I did was study reports and map out strategy. The latest, of course, was how best to use the tunnels beneath the Vieux Carre to our benefit.
Before I could snap at the insult, he began coughing.
“Dad, are you okay?” I was slow to ask. He hated it whenever I did.
He waved me off. “Fine. Fine. Just need more water.” We both searched for a pitcher and glasses. Tammy had brought food without beverages. He continued to struggle with the cough. He face was turning red.
“I’ll run to the kitchen,” I offered. “I’ll be right back.” I left him doubled over while I raced through the house. Where in the hell was everyone?
Some days were better than others. I didn’t see how his medication helped, although I wasn’t allowed to know what was in the brown pill bottles. He didn’t share with me what his diagnosis was. I was denied access to his doctor. For now, I was the fledging business protégé. That was all. He didn’t consider that as his daughter I should know what was wrong with him. He kept me in the dark.
I couldn’t believe it when I walked into an empty kitchen. I grumbled. I retrieved a bottle of water from the beverage fridge and sprinted back to his office.
“Here, take this.” I twisted off the cap and shoved it in his hands. “It’s not too cold.” I knew he would find something to disagree about.
My father didn’t say thank you, but he drank. After a few minutes, the coughing subsided.
“Where were we?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. I thought he might be trying to stretch to get more air in his lungs. Why wouldn’t he just tell me what was going on?
“Maybe we should take a break,” I suggested. I stopped short of telling him to go to his room to lie down.
His eyebrows furled
