by Lucy Leroux
A slow anger bubbled in his gut. He masked it with effort. Fuck. How long had it been since she eaten a good meal?
“It wasn’t that long,” Tahlia said before taking a sip of her shake.
“What?”
“You asked how long it’s been since I’d eaten.”
He grimaced. “I meant to keep that in my head, sorry.”
Tahlia shrugged. “I was working for a caterer at the end there. She did outreach and recruitment at a women’s shelter I was staying at. I got excellent leftovers.”
Leftovers, Christ. A woman like Tahlia deserved to be wined and dined at the best restaurants in the world, and she worked for scraps.
Not anymore. He was going to ply her with gourmet food until she regained the weight she’d lost living on the streets.
“Her name was Gina by the way. She’s trying to get on your list of preferred vendors.”
He blinked. “What?”
She inhaled a fry and frowned at her burger. “At the Caislean in Manhattan. She’s trying to get on your preferred—”
He cut her off with a wave. “Is that what you were doing there? Were you working catering an event at our hotel when I bumped into you in New York?”
Tahlia nodded, taking another big bite. She gestured to the center of the patty with a frown. “What is this?”
“Foie gras,” he answered absently. Inwardly, he was reeling. She had been working at one of their hotels. What were the chances? He didn’t know how to calculate the odds, although it was a good bet she could.
“It’s a small world,” he said distantly, rocking on his heels before frowning at her. “Do you want something else to eat? I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask if you liked goose liver. This kitchen is fully stocked. I can make you anything.”
“No! This is amazing. I was just surprised at the unexpected mushiness. But it’s a good mushy.”
His lips quirked, but he found it difficult to smile. “Can you tell me more about the time you were missing?”
He’d lost weeks of sleep wondering what happened to her after the memorial service.
Her eyes grew distant. “It’s not as bad as you think. Yes, there were scary moments and shitty people, but I met some nice ones, too. People in circumstances worse than mine. I got lucky one or two times.”
He huffed aloud. Lucky was not the word he would use. “When?”
Maia told them about her family and how her father had been dead when she woke up in Florida.
She held up a finger. “Meeting Gina was one stroke of luck. She helped me.”
Her eyes flared. “Oh no! I was supposed to meet her after the game. She doesn’t know what happened to me. But I don’t have a number for her—she never gave it to me because I don’t have a phone. She would just leave messages for me at the shelter.”
He picked up his phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll find her. If she catered an event for us, then my office will have her number.”
Checking the time, he decided midnight wasn’t too late, not for this. “Keep eating,” he ordered.
Tahlia obeyed, her eyes tracking him as he dialed the manager at their Manhattan hotel. Satisfied she was going to finish everything and then some, he pulled out a half pint of vanilla bean ice cream from the freezer and set it in front of her to thaw.
“Kemper,” he greeted the manager when he answered. “I need you to put me through to a vendor.”
Gina the caterer was so relieved to hear his news, she cried over the phone.
“You don’t have to worry about her anymore,” Trick assured her as Tahlia danced in front of him, gesturing for him to pass the phone. He held up a finger, asking her to wait.
“I’m going to be keeping a close eye on her. Thank you for watching out for her. Consider your place on the preferred vendor list a lock.”
He handed the handset over as a very loud squeal came over the speaker. Tahlia grinned, covering the speaker for a second. “You won’t regret it. Her food is great.”
Kemper agreed. He also found her reliable, which was why guaranteeing the coveted slot wasn’t a hardship. Although, he’d have done something else for her if she was crap. Anyone who helped other women when they were down deserved a hand.
Tahlia talked, giving Gina a very abbreviated version of events. She didn’t mention being stalked or even hurt, but something told him the savvy woman she was speaking to could read between the lines.
“I’m okay,” Tahlia repeated for the third time, picking at the ice cream with a spoon he’d shoved at her. “Or I will be soon. Yes, I’ll call you as soon as I know what I’m doing next.”
Trick frowned at that last phrase. If Tahlia thought she was going back to catering in New York, she was crazy. He didn’t get a chance to tell her that, though. A few minutes later, she was yawning, her lids growing heavy as she nodded in response to whatever Gina was saying.
He plucked the phone out of her hand when she glanced at him and jumped a little, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Sorry, Gina. This one has to go to bed now.”
“Well, don’t you keep her up then,” the woman scolded in shades of motherly reproach. “Seriously, take care of her.”
“I intend to,” he promised, ushering Tahlia up out of her seat as he hung up.
Trick helped Tahlia wash up, giving her another painkiller before helping her to the bed. She yawned again and was drifting off when she saw him reach for the buttons on his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“I told myself if I found you, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight. Now, you can kick me out if you want, but I’ll just move to the couch in the living room. I won’t be far.”
She snorted as he took his shirt off. “What happened to me being able to lock you out of my room?”
“You can do that later—when you’ve healed and you really have something to worry about,” he said, stripping down to his boxers.
Tahlia’s mouth quirked as he climbed into the empty space next to her.
“This bed is big enough for me and five of you. You won’t even know I’m here. So for now, rest. Regain your strength. If you need anything, just ask.”
He took one of the many bed pillows and put it between them.
Tahlia picked it up and tossed it on the floor. “Get on my other side. It hurts less.”
He complied, relaxing when she curled up against him. Several minutes passed in silence. Her deep and even breathing signaled she’d fallen asleep.
“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” he whispered.
Trick didn’t have a lot of practice destroying people, but for her, he could learn.
Chapter 18
It took over a week for Tahlia to stop jerking awake when the alarm on Patrick’s watch beeped every morning. It wasn’t always safe to doze in front of strangers, even at the shelters, so she’d developed the habit of sleeping lightly and waking early. Personal belongings had a way of disappearing when she wasn’t watching, even in the safe places.
But the wide fluffy bed in the Caislean’s penthouse suites soon worked its magic. She slept later and later, waking only briefly when Patrick would kiss her goodbye before going to his room to shower and change every morning.
Most of the week was spent in the suite as she slowly recovered her mobility. The doctor, Eric Tam, remarked on her quick recovery.
“I still want you to take it easy,” he ordered as he left the day before. “And don’t be afraid to take the codeine if you need it. Proper pain management is essential to the healing process. Nobody’s going to let you get hooked on anything on my watch.”
Tahlia promised, but truthfully didn’t need the pills. She could take the mild discomfort of her injuries now that she could afford to rest.
Patrick had been wonderful since she arrived. He kept popping in to see her throughout the day, surprising her with little gifts or treats. He ate dinner with her every night and bought her a phone, so she could text him when he was working in his office.
&nbs
p; Maia couldn’t come to see her because of the doctor’s imposed bedrest, but Tahlia was able to video chat her every other day.
Maggie Tyler and her best friend Peyton Carson also dropped by to check on her almost every day, up until Maggie had to leave town to help with a big conference at their Edinburgh hotel. Then Peyton came alone. As soon as she could walk, she insisted on giving Tahlia the grand tour.
“Don’t tell Trick I busted you out today,” Peyton told her, releasing them from the penthouse floor by putting her thumb to a space-age panel before pushing the lobby button.
Tahlia squinted at the sleek panel, remembering how impressed she’d been with it during her first trip up to the suite level with Patrick. Her family was notoriously technophobic. She hadn’t even owned a cell phone until she moved to Boston for school.
Holding onto to the cane Dr. Tam provided to help her walk, she murmured her thanks for the tour. Though they hadn’t spent that much time alone together before, Tahlia liked Peyton. From what Maia told her, they had some things in common regarding difficult childhoods.
“Patrick doesn’t know about this outing?” she asked, half expecting him to round the corner.
Peyton grinned. “If he did, would he be chill, or would he insist on carrying you back to your suite right now?”
Tahlia tilted her head up to the security cameras in the corner of the elevator. “You have a point… let’s not tell him. So where are we going?”
“I’m pretty sure Liam would join Trick in stringing me up if I took you down to the lobby level, but we can start at the mezzanine,” Peyton said brightly. “It’s where the spa and the hotel’s five-star restaurant are. There’s also a gym in the basement, but it’s way too early for that judging from the cane. We can still take a tour, however, for future reference. It’s a nice setup—there’s a weight room, lap pool, and a sauna.”
Tahlia smiled wistfully at the mention of the pool. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”
She didn’t have much of anything. Maia’s husband had generously taken charge of packing up her apartment when she’d been taken, but he’d put the lot in storage. As soon as her family learned about it, they’d sent a lawyer to make a claim to collect her belongings. Calen hadn’t relented, claiming they were evidence, but the legal tangle meant she still didn’t have her clothes.
Patrick told her to charge anything she needed from the hotel’s luxury clothing shops to his account, but that was far too generous. For the moment, she was wearing clothes borrowed from Peyton and Maggie. Both were close to her size.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Trick will happily get you a bikini if you mention the pool.” Peyton waggled her eyebrows, making her laugh.
“Something tells me I wouldn’t want to wear anything he picked out.” Her smile faded as wondered how she was going to pay for a whole new wardrobe.
“Are you okay?” Peyton asked, holding open the door for the spa.
She shrugged, flicking her eyes over the well-appointment reception desk area of the spa. The walls were white and with light ocean-blue accents. Soothing music tinkled in the background. A welcome area with couches and sofas was to the left, while a grand display of the hotel’s skin care line filled multiple shelves on the right.
“Um, Peyton. I don’t think I can afford anything here,” she said in a low voice, her eyes widening at the prices on the spa menu the other woman handed her.
“It’s on the house.”
Tahlia shook her head, tensing. “I don’t want Patrick to have to pay for this. It’s bad enough I’m crashing in that ridiculous suite without paying.”
Her family had money, but they hadn’t supported her going off to school, so she’d lived exclusively on her graduate student stipend. The small salary paid for her apartment and basic living expenses, but little else. Budgeting had been essential.
“Tahlia, don’t be silly. Everyone needs a little help sometimes. If you want a facial or a manicure, you can use my employee code. Everyone on the staff is entitled to a free service once a year, based on seniority—including the maids and cleaning staff. I’ve been working here since this place opened so I have credits stocked up. I never have time to use them. But now you’re here, we can both get something done. A massage is probably a bad idea given the injuries to your ribs, but we could get a facial or a haircut. Georgina is an artist with her shears.”
Tears stung at her eyes at Peyton’s generosity. Aside from Maia, she didn’t have very many real friends. She didn’t know what to do when people were kind.
Peyton noticed her rapid blinking. “Why don’t we schedule something after we’ve done the whole circuit?” she suggested brightly, glossing over the uncomfortable scene.
After waving to the attendant at the desk, Peyton ushered her though the warren of spa rooms, showing her everything from the facial rooms to the hamman-style sauna and mud baths.
Each member of the staff greeted her by name. “Everyone is so…warm,” Tahlia observed after a particularly effusive maid stopped them in the hall to gently hug her and wish her a speedy recover before reminding Peyton to eat.
“Most of the staff in this hotel have been with the Tylers for years. That one, Constanza, worked for their parents at their old B&B. She’s like one of their four unofficial moms. She’s kind of one for me, too, I guess. I’ve known Maggie since grade school. The B&B was like a second home.”
They were passing through the tearoom, where an English tea service was available to guests from morning until dinner. Peyton snagged a puff pastry from a loaded table and pressed another on her.
“They lost their mom fairly young, didn’t they?” Tahlia asked as the other woman munched away.
Peyton swallowed with a distant nod. “Both parents at once. It was a car crash. Maggie and I were still in elementary school. Liam was a senior, and Trick was a freshman in high school. Relatives wanted to split them up when it happened, but Liam fought them off. He insisted the family stay together. The small B&B staff pitched in to make sure they were able to. Since then, they’ve all been absorbed into the upper echelons of the hotel chain.”
She gestured to their surroundings. “After Liam and Trick opened this place, that loyal crew received a huge pay bump and excellent retirement accounts. The Tylers take care of their own.”
It was mind-bending how young Patrick and his brother had been when they founded their hotel chain. “Liam and Patrick must be amazing businessmen to have built all this.”
“They are. Liam’s brutal in the boardroom and Maggie’s no slouch either. Trick acts like the soft touch, more devil-may-care, but in reality, he’s a born salesman. He could sell anything. He’s almost better at that than poker, although since you beat him, that probably doesn’t mean much to you,” Peyton teased.
Did he tell everyone? “It was only one game. Maybe I got lucky,” she offered.
Peyton’s lips quirked. “Did you?”
Tahlia’s shoulders dropped. “No. I’m better.”
The other woman’s peal of laughter preceded them into the restaurant, where the chef personally served them lunch. The sommelier also fussed over them until Peyton sent him away, telling him Tahlia couldn’t drink with the painkillers she was on.
“That was delicious,” she said as they resumed their tour.
“All the food here is amazing,” Peyton boasted, leading the way to the elevators.
Their next stop was the manager’s office, located directly behind the main desk.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed on the lobby floor yet.”
Peyton waved that away. “As long as you’re not in the open, we should be fine. Plus, this is my domain.” She threw open a door, revealing a high-tech space filled with monitors.
Two men in dark suits nodded at them as Peyton shooed her to an intimidating semi-circular desk. Three huge monitors faced the leather rolling chair like some sort of space command center.
Peyton pulled up an extra chair for her to sit in. “This place dou
bles as security and our IT department. Kevin and Sam over there keep watch on all the floors and entrances via our internal camera feeds. I’m part of a team that maintains all the hotel’s computers and encrypted Wi-Fi system.”
Tahlia whistled, squinting at the command line interface on the closest screen. Her math skills didn’t translate to being adept with computer languages. She knew the basics, of course, but Peyton must have been a very good programmer to make all this run.
The other girl typed a few commands on her keyboard, bringing up closed-circuit feeds from the penthouse floor. The men were in the reception area just outside of their offices, deep in conversation with a small group.
“Trick is done with his meeting, so we can expect him to start hunting you down soon.”
“I don’t mind if he finds me,” Tahlia said, feeling like a voyeur as she watched him shake hands with another man in the monitor. In the background, Liam Tyler was standing with his assistant.
The Tylers oldest brother had dropped by her room the day before. Though he’d been polite and welcoming, his clipped speech and bear-like build intimidated her. She found it difficult to speak to him. Patrick was the complete opposite.
Peyton giggled. “Of course you don’t mind. You’re almost healed up. Soon, it will be time for bam chicka wah wah.”
Tahlia’s ears heated. She jerked in the swivel chair to see if the two security men overheard.
“They are wearing earpieces, tuned to the in-house band. You could drive a truck in here and they wouldn’t notice.”
Chagrined, Tahlia turned back to her. “Patrick said he wants to take it slow,” she confessed. “I wasn’t sure I did, but it’s a good idea. I don’t have a whole lot of experience with men. My family never allowed any near me—even after I left home.”
Despite the distance, her relatives kept up a relentless surveillance. Every time a man showed more than a passing interest in her, she received a warning, usually in the form of a phone call from her father. She was repeatedly warned to discourage suitors, so that was what she did, albeit as subtly as she could. If that didn’t work, her cousins would start appearing in the same places until Tahlia was forced to be more direct with the man in question.