Pursuit of the Truth

by K. D. Richards

  Nadia’s smile held steady. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Ryan took the first aid kit from Olivia, who shot one more curious look at Nadia before leaving.

  Ryan went to his knees in front of her, his six-foot-three height leaving him almost eye to eye with Nadia though she sat. He grabbed an antiseptic swab from the kit and began cleaning the wound on Nadia’s knee. He raised his gaze to her face to find her eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

  “Can you describe the people around you when you felt the push?” Ryan gently removed her broken shoe, the intimacy of their position sending his heart racing.

  “I...I don’t know. A construction worker helped me up. And there was an older lady that grabbed my purse for me.”

  She winced when he brushed the wipe over the wound on her leg, and his gut twisted.

  “Sorry.”

  He wiped the wound again, this time blowing on it gently to minimize the chemical’s sting. “Nadia? You okay?”

  “Sure. Uh, yes, the construction worker and the lady. There was also the cabbie that almost hit me, but he couldn’t have pushed me.”

  Ryan covered her bruise with a large bandage and moved to the abrasion on her arm. “Do you always take the same route to work?”

  Nadia cocked her head to the side. “I live four blocks away. There aren’t that many options.”

  Four blocks. That would put her apartment near Sentinel, the bar he and Shawn had recently purchased.

  He finished bandaging her arm. It might be impossible to determine if she’d been purposely pushed or whether some inconsiderate commuter accidentally knocked her into the street, but every fiber in his body wanted to make sure she never suffered another bump or bruise to her beautiful silky skin.

  He rose from the floor and stepped back. Nothing could ever happen between them, not only because she was a client, but also because she was way out of his league. That didn’t mean he couldn’t look and admire how perfectly she was built. Professional or not, he was a healthy thirty-six-year-old man.

  His gaze finally landed on her face. For a brief moment, he thought he saw the desire he felt reflected in her brown eyes before she looked away.

  Nadia stood and walked barefoot to the other side of her desk. “I need to call the boutique in the lobby and get a new outfit. Maybe you could catch up to Olivia and your brother, and we can talk later?”

  He wanted to delve further into whatever had happened this morning, but it wasn’t his place, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  He stole a glance at Nadia as he left the office. She held the phone handset between her shoulder and ear, her fingers punching numbers on the keypad.

  Her fall was probably just an accident, he told himself as he left the office. Yet, he couldn’t stop the thought nagging at him in response.

  But what if it wasn’t?

  Chapter Two

  Lana’s, the women’s boutique in the hotel lobby, skewed toward women with fewer curves and less imaginative fashion sense than Nadia. Since she was in no position to be choosy, she bought a black suit, thankful that it not only fit but covered her bumps and bruises. Paired with an overpriced pair of black flats, she looked the part of a CEO once again.

  Unfortunately, the morning’s events had put her too far behind to meet with Ryan, leaving her with mixed feelings. She was willing to admit to herself, and only herself, that she anticipated their quarterly meetings with far more excitement than she mustered for any of the other hotel vendors.

  Not that Ryan West would ever be interested in the dirty, bruised and disheveled woman that he’d played nursemaid to this morning. The picture of what she must have looked like flashed through her mind, sending a flush of embarrassment through her and heating her cheeks.

  She needed to focus on work. She didn’t have time for romance, and anyway, given her track record, swearing off men seemed the prudent course of action.

  Nadia examined the spreadsheet her CFO had emailed the previous day. Last year’s numbers were good, even better than the year before when Nate was in charge. Her father had loved Shelton Hotels, but he’d been slow to change with the industry. As deeply as she’d mourned his death six years ago, when she and Nate took over they’d both agreed that changes would have to be made if Shelton was to survive. Nate hadn’t been sure about branding Shelton Hotels as an eco-friendly chain, but once she’d convinced him of the viability of the idea, he’d thrown himself into the rebranding just as she had.

  She wanted to take Shelton beyond simply asking guests to reuse their towels and not requesting the bedsheets be laundered every day. They’d instituted a composting program, retrofitted every room in the hotel with automatic lights, changed their cleaning products and completely overhauled how they chose their vendors. It had been a huge and expensive undertaking, but they were paying off the loan right on time. The hotel’s margins were tighter than she’d like, but conference season was just beginning, and they were booked solid for the next several months. The only thing missing was Nate.

  They’d planned to take Shelton Hotels to the next level together, but now she was left to go it alone.

  Nadia’s desk phone rang, the caller ID showing Olivia’s extension.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Olivia spoke as soon as Nadia connected the call. “But Michael Dexter is at the front desk asking to see you.”

  Nadia frowned and for a moment considered having Olivia say she wasn’t in. Mike Dexter, president of Aurora Hotels and Suites, was not a man she wanted to deal with today. She’d made the mistake of dating Mike for a short period last year on the rebound from calling off her engagement. Mike hadn’t been interested in her solely for her money like her ex-fiancé had been, but it had quickly become apparent his motives were no less selfish. It only took a few weeks of dating for her to realize that he wanted someone who would look good on his arm in public and would fawn over him in private.

  That was so not her. Not that Mike had taken the time to get to know her while they’d dated. He’d been too busy trying to impress her and going on and on about how well suited they were for each other since they were both in the hospitality industry. He’d seemed genuinely surprised when Nadia had broken things off with him. The few times they’d run into each other at events afterward, he’d been borderline uncivil. She couldn’t imagine why he’d show up at her office.

  Today was not her day.

  Curiosity won out, however. Minutes later Olivia escorted Mike into the office. With chiseled cheekbones and pale blue eyes, only his relatively short stature of five foot ten set him apart from the many male models that ran the streets of New York.

  Nadia plastered a polite smile on her face, rising as Mike entered. “Mike, to what do I owe this visit?”

  She didn’t offer her hand or come around her desk to greet him. He was more of an interloper than a guest.

  “Can’t I just drop in to say hello to a friend?” Mike said.

  She examined the man in front of her with open suspicion. The quarter-inch strip of pale skin at his hairline announced the bronzy glow on his face as store-bought, and his salt-and-pepper hair fell in waves that were a little too perfect to be natural.

  There was no way in the world Mike had come all the way uptown to Harlem just to shoot the breeze. He was up to something, and she’d be wise to tread cautiously until she knew what that was. “I didn’t know we were friends. Why are you here, Mike?”

  Mike’s smile tightened. “I forgot how focused you can be.”

  Nadia stared and waited.

  “Fine.” He let the smile drop from his face. “I have a business proposal for you. Aurora is a well-known luxury brand, but we’re looking to expand into the midscale market. The board has authorized me to make you a very generous offer.”

  Nadia cocked her head, suspicion turning to confusion. “What kind of offer?”r />
  Mike pulled a thin white envelope from the inside of his suit jacket and handed it over the desk, his mouth spread into a grin. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased.”

  She took the offering, sliding the single sheet of paper from the unsealed sleeve. It was a letter, signed by the chairmen of the board of Aurora Hotels, offering a not-insignificant sum for the purchase of Shelton Hotels.

  “Of course, the details will need to be worked out, but that’s why we pay the lawyers, right?” A new smile slid across Mike’s face. “The letter just deals with the important stuff—the money.” Mike beamed.

  Tension stiffened Nadia’s back. She sat. Had Mike been in her office on a personal matter, this would be the point where she would have unceremoniously thrown him out, but professionalism kept her from doing so. “Shelton Hotels is not for sale.”

  “Why don’t you take a close look at our offer before making any hasty decisions?” Mike unbuttoned his jacket and sat in the chair on the other side of Nadia’s desk. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he leaned back in the chair, apparently confident that she’d see the light and accept the offer.

  Her eyes never left Mike’s. “There’s no need. As I said, Shelton is not for sale.”

  Mike straightened in his chair. “I expected a savvy businesswoman like you to reject our first offer. So what will it take?”

  Annoyance chased away her earlier inclination toward professional courtesy. “I don’t know how to say it any more clearly. I’m not selling Shelton,” she said icily.

  “What if the deal included a position for you at Aurora? It would be a significant step up.”

  His rudeness stunned her into a momentary silence which Mike apparently mistook for her considering his offer.

  “How does vice president of operations sound?” He smiled a calculated, cocky grin.

  “Like a step down from being CEO of my own hotel chain.”

  Mike guffawed. “Come on, now. Shelton is good for what it is, but it’s a stretch to call it a chain. I mean you only have three properties, and they are all in New York. Don’t you want more?”

  “No.” Her hands trembled with contained anger. She was tired of playing his game. And if she had to spend too much longer with Mike and his overinflated ego, she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t say or do something she couldn’t take back. “But even if I wanted more, it would be here, at Shelton Hotels. The business my father built from nothing.”

  Mike held up his hands in a surrender pose. “I really didn’t come here to argue. I went to bat for you with my board and convinced them that Shelton would be a good purchase. I thought I’d be helping you. Yet, the fact is I’ve now been tasked with acquiring Shelton, and I don’t fail.”

  Anger surged, threatening to overtake reason. She hadn’t asked him to go to bat for her nor could she fathom why he’d think buying Shelton would help her.

  Nadia stood. “It’s time for you to leave, Mike.”

  He rose slowly, his mouth pulling so taut that lines appeared at either end. “Really? You want to play hardball with me?”

  Nadia put her hands on her desk and leaned forward. “I’m not playing. Shelton is mine, and that’s how it will remain. Now, get out.”

  Nadia rounded her desk and headed for the door.

  Mike stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Does your refusal have anything to do with our past personal relationship? I know that you might have hoped for something to develop between us, but...” Mike reached out and ran his thumb over her cheek “...sometimes these things just don’t work out.”

  She stepped back out of his reach, her hands balled into fists. “Since I was the one who broke things off, I think I’ll survive.”

  Mike’s spine straightened. “I understand it can be difficult to see past sentimentality, but I wouldn’t have expected this from you. It’s a good offer.”

  He strode to the door, stopping at the threshold and turning back to her. “Think about it. We’ll talk soon.”

  Nadia watched him disappear.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  Chapter Three

  Nadia’s days were usually long, but this day had been longer than usual thanks to her late start and Mike’s unwelcome visit. After her busy morning, she’d gotten a good start on closing out the file on the conference of local real estate agents from last week and began to prepare for the conference of freelance photographers that would start early next week. In doing so, she’d been able to avoid thinking about the embarrassment she’d felt with Ryan and the fury that had built from her encounter with Mike.

  But as she made the short walk back to her apartment, her mind drifted back to the surprise she’d felt when Ryan had burst into the bathroom. As always, he showed up for their meeting impeccably dressed in what had to be a custom-tailored suit that did nothing to hide the well-muscled body beneath. And she’d been in a torn dress with dirty knees. Still, he’d been exceptionally gentle when he’d lifted her foot from her shoe. There’d been nothing inherently sensual about the act, but it had still been one of the sexiest things she’d ever experienced. And then he’d blown on her calf. It was a good thing she’d been sitting down because her legs—her whole body, to be honest—had instantly gone weak. The last thing she wanted Ryan West to know was that she’d been so attracted to him her knees had gone weak. Having him see her muddy and bruised was embarrassing enough for a lifetime. And a good reminder that she’d sworn off men.

  Her choice left her lonely at times, but lonely was a far cry better than heartbroken when the people you loved and depended on left you.

  She stood back from the curb while she waited for the lights to change and made it home without a mishap. After collecting the mail from her box in the alcove next to the building entrance, she rode the elevator to her fourth-floor apartment.

  She was almost to her apartment door when she noticed it was cracked open.

  She crept closer, stopping when a shadow crossed the opening between the door and the frame.

  “Did you find anything?” a man whispered.

  “There’s nothing here,” a different, deeper voice said.

  “We’ll wait for her, then,” the first voice responded.

  The shadow shifted, and a man in jeans and a black top crossed in front of the sliver of light emanating from the apartment.

  She couldn’t see a face, but she didn’t miss the glint of the silver gun he held in his gloved hand.

  Surprised, she let her purse and briefcase slip from her shoulder and land with a soft thud on the hallway carpet.

  She crept back, away from her apartment, her keys still clutched in her hand.

  Turning, she sprinted back the way she’d come. She couldn’t risk waiting for the elevator. She headed straight for the stairs.

  The sound of the bar across the door unlatching sounded like a firecracker as she hit it at a run.

  Please don’t let them have heard.

  Nadia raced down the stairs, cringing at the sound of her footsteps pounding down the stairs. She’d made it to the third-floor landing when the firecracker sound came again, followed by thunderous footsteps on the stairs above.

  Faster. Go! Go! Go!

  She picked up her pace, unconcerned with the sound of her footsteps now and grateful for the expensive flats she’d purchased earlier in the day.

  A sign on the door at the base of the stairs cautioned that an alarm would sound when the door opened. When she pushed through the door and into the alley behind the building, only the usual sound of traffic on nearby Fifth Avenue greeted her. There wasn’t time to curse the negligent building management.

  She ran for the entrance to the alley. She’d purchased her condo for its location and because of the quiet, tree-lined street on which the building stood. Populated primarily by professionals and young families, the neighborhood offered the serenity
and peace she craved after hectic days dealing with hotel guests, vendors and conference-goers. But at ten o’clock at night, the streets were empty, making it impossible to blend in with or hide in a crowd.

  You just have to make it to Fifth Avenue.

  A major thoroughfare spanning a good portion of the length of Manhattan, Fifth Avenue was always heavily populated. There were several restaurants, bars and other venues that would be open at this time of night where she could borrow a phone to call the police.

  She ran down the alley. The door she’d exited burst open just as she made it to the entrance to the narrow passage.

  She slowed for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. A bald man, almost as wide as the doorway itself, stopped just outside the door. His gaze locked on hers, the malevolence in his eyes visible even several feet away. She attended yoga regularly, but with the fall earlier, her leg muscles already ached and her lungs burned as much as from the sudden exertion as fear. Still, she pushed herself to move faster.

  Several people waited yards ahead for the pedestrian walk signal at the corner of Fifth Avenue. Cars streamed down the street.

  “Help!”

  A car horn sounded, drowning out her cry. The traffic signal changed to red, and the crowd swarmed into the crosswalk, seemingly oblivious to her pounding footsteps behind them.

  With a burst of speed, she made it to the corner, sparing a second glance over her shoulder. The bald man still advanced, joined now by another man equally broad shouldered.

  Nadia wove through the crowded street. She cursed herself for dropping her purse in her apartment hallway. She could ask to use the phone of a passerby, but stopping to explain the situation would eat up time she could use to put distance between herself and the men after her. Better to get somewhere safe first.

  The stores on the block had already closed for the day, but farther down, signs for restaurants and bars still glowed. She kept moving, her eyes locking on a unique sign, its letters illuminating one after the other above a doorway until the name of the establishment glowed in green. Sentinel.