Initiating Amy (Dominion Hotel Book 3)

by Michelle Peters

  Eve sat at the bar with a full martini in front of her. She was staring into her glass, not really intent on drinking it, just having it there. Looking at it was something to do and somewhere to be other than in the hotel suite. Eve adored her aunt, but she needed a little time to herself, or at least, someone to have a conversation with. Aunt Ev was lovely, but she was not that chatty. Eve reached out and spun her glass between her fingers, careful not to spill it, watching the light create prisms in the clear liquid.

  “Are you going to drink that, or just play with it?” Tony slid onto the stool beside her.

  “I haven’t decided yet. Probably just play with it.”

  Tony gestured to Mike, the love-struck bartender. He came down the bar, looking at Eve while speaking to Tony. “What can I get you?”

  Amused, Tony looked at Eve, still absently fixated on her drink, before turning to the Bartender. “Cola, no ice.”

  The Bartender stood a moment longer, waiting for Eve to turn her attention his way. When she did not, he gave up, reaching below the counter for the soda hose. He pressed a button on the tap, filling a glass with cola. More aggressively than warranted, he jabbed a straw into the glass and slid it in front of Tony.

  “Cola, Mr. Marino.”

  “Thanks, Mike.”

  “Sure, Mr. Marino.” Mike moved down the bar, away from them.

  “What did you do to my bartender?”

  Eve broke off her stare before looking at Tony, sitting up straight, smiling. “Just a little fun really. But it’s over.”

  “He looks broken. You’ve got to fix him. I need him. Does he know he doesn’t have a chance?”

  Both Tony and Eve look down the bar at Mike at the same time. Mike was still staring at Eve, but when he saw the two of them looking in his direction, he looked away, busying himself with wiping down the bar.

  “Guess not,” replied Eve. “I’ve tried to tell him. He just doesn’t get it.”

  “Or doesn’t want to get it.”

  Eve looked down at Tony’s drink. “Nothing stronger?”

  “I’m still working.”

  “My aunt says you’re always working, you even live in the hotel.”

  “That’s the hotel business, twenty-four seven.”

  Eve swiveled around to look at Tony. “Anything new with the photo I gave you?”

  “These things take time. You only gave it to me this morning.”

  Eve swung around on her stool again, facing the bar, fingering the stem of her martini glass. “I know, I just thought.”

  “I gave it to my guy.”

  Eve smiled. She was excited. “I knew you had a guy.”

  “Well”—Tony leaned in a little closer to her—“he’s not my guy. He’s just a guy I know through a friend. So technically, he’s not my guy. He’s Matt’s guy.”

  “Matt?”

  “Matt Warrington.”

  “My aunt mentioned him. He’s one of your partners.”

  “Yeah, and a friend.”

  “So, what did Matt’s guy tell you?”

  “Too early for anything concrete yet. Turns out that William Lawrence is a pretty common name. Then there’s the challenge of how far afield do you search. It was a long time ago, and people move around more these days then before. He could be anywhere in the world.”

  “Well, we can’t search the world, can we?”

  “No, we can’t. We’re keeping it close. If he’s close, we should be able to find him.”

  Eve sat up even straighter, a hopeful look on her face.

  Tony continued. “He says a picture and a name is all he really needs.”

  “And we gave him that. So, we should be able to find him then.” Eve was having trouble containing her excitement.

  “If he’s close, and alive, he’ll find him.”

  “Alive?” Eve’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t think about that. He could be dead.” She sat thinking about this for a moment.

  “It was a long time ago,” said Tony.

  “Yeah, it was,” replied Eve. She sat thinking a bit more before brightening. “But let’s not assume that. Aunt Ev is alive and going strong, so we’ll assume the same for William Lawrence.” She lifted her martini glass and tilted it towards Tony. Tony tilted his glass towards hers. They clinked glasses. “To Matt’s guy.”

  “To Warrington’s guy,” Tony repeated, sipping his cola while Eve sipped her martini.

  “Speaking of guys”—Eve gave Tony a devilish, mischievous smile—“what do you think about that guy?”

  Eve nodded her head in Racocco’s direction. He was siting in one of the booths across the room. He came in after Tony, therefore Tony was not aware of him being there. Tony shot a glance over his shoulder and immediately turned back to face Eve.

  “That’s no guy,” he said, venom in his voice, “that’s Angelo Racocco.”

  Eve was sipping her martini. She had decided to drink it now. “Okay, so what do you think of Angelo Racocco?”

  Ever the hotelier and host, Tony had no desire to disparage a guest, even if it was Racocco. He did his best to avoid answering. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason really. I met him this afternoon. I thought he was very charming.” She tipped the martini glass back over her lips, draining the last of it. She flicked her tongue over the rim, searching for the last remaining drops.

  “Don’t be fooled by first impressions. There’s a dark side lurking below that expensive suit and fake smile.” Tony couldn’t believe he said that, but after he did, he was glad.

  “Dark in a good, fun way?”

  “Dark in ways you don’t want to know.”

  Eve frowned. “That’s too bad.” Eve looked down the bar at Mike. She raised her empty glass at him and he immediately set about making her another drink. She turned back to Tony. “Your town’s pretty boring. I was hoping to find a distraction.”

  “He wouldn’t be that.”

  Mike swooped in with a fresh martini, placing it in front of Eve while scooping up the empty glass and moving down to the other end of the bar once again, pining away from afar.

  Tony witnessed the whole event. “Maybe you should stick to bartenders.”

  “They’re no fun. Or rather, they are fun, but that’s just it, just a bit of harmless fun. There’s nothing more to them. No depth, no challenge, no danger. Nothing dark about them.” Eve threw in the last statement to see if she could get a rise out of Tony. It worked.

  “Dark? You’re looking for dark?”

  Eve sipped her fresh drink. “No, not really. I say that, but I don’t mean it. But I’m looking for something, something more.” She leaned into Tony. “I’m looking for someone like you.”

  “What do you mean, someone like me?”

  Her face was still close to his, and she became coy. “I don’t know.” She pulled back again, remembering their last conversation. She sipped her martini, looking over the rim of the glass at him. “Someone who knows what he wants and takes it. Someone with a strong hand, who knows what to do with his hands.” She took a hearty drink this time, finishing the martini in one big gulp.

  Tony didn’t know what to make of this turn in the conversation, so he decided to say nothing, to see where she was going with it.

  As quickly as she turned the conversation to her desires, she ended it. Setting the empty glass on the bar, she slid off of her stool. Tony was quick to follow, standing silently, curiously beside her.

  “Well. I’m off,” she said, “I’ve kept you way too long.”

  “Not at all.”

  “You’re far too kind Mr. Marino, such a gentleman. Will you walk me to the elevator?”

  “Of course,” he said, looping his arm so that she could slip her through it.

  As they made their way towards the lobby, Tony looked over at Racocco. As he suspected, Racocco seemed interested—too interested for Tony’s liking—in what was happening at the bar. Tony realized how it looked. He was escorting a young lady out of the bar and towards
the elevator. Exactly as it had looked and happened when Racocco got Amy drunk and tried to take advantage of her. Tony hated this. He hated that it looked like he was doing something Racocco would do, or worse, it looked like he was just like Racocco. Tony tried to wipe the thought from his mind. As they reached the exit to the lounge, Tony glanced back at Racocco. Racocco smiled a toothy, broad grin, raising his scotch glass in a mock salute of affinity.

  Tony boiled.

  Chapter 7

  Restless was one way to put it, but nervous and anxious would also apply.

  Amy tried to take Miranda’s advice to heart, the advice she gave her yesterday evening during the car ride home. For a little while it worked. Throughout the evening she was fine. As she made herself dinner before binge watching a few shows online, she was feeling good about it. She was just going to go with it. Carmen or not, she was with Lance and that was all that mattered, the rest would work itself out in time. She even went to bed with warm, relaxed, happy thoughts.

  Too bad she didn’t wake up with the same thoughts. As she showered, dressed and commuted to work, her morning thoughts were the exact opposite of her evening thoughts. How could she ‘just go with it’ as Miranda told her to do? That wasn’t her nature. She was a worrier, a nervous Nellie. This morning, her true nature took over.

  Amy didn’t really know Carmen. Carmen was new to the hotel, and although she had come across her a few times around the hotel, beyond their initial introduction and the occasion words in passing they never really had a conversation. Not one that would give her a sense of who Carmen was, what made her tick, but more importantly, why Lance would be attracted to her. That was it, really. She wanted to know how she stacked up against her. Amy wanted to know how she measured up against a talented, creative, entrepreneurial, celebrated chef. Oh my god!

  A few hours into the morning, her restlessness was beginning to get the better of her. Amy got up and went over towards Alison’s open office door. Amy stopped and stood in the doorway. Alison was on the phone. When she saw Amy she held up one finger, then waved her into the office. She quickly wrapped up her telephone conversation, all the while looking at Amy, shaking her head back and forth, indicating that the conversation was going on far too long and she wanted to end it.

  Finally, she hung up. “What’s up? Come in.”

  “Latte?”

  “No, no, I’m good. Doctor says I shouldn’t be having any caffeine at this stage of my pregnancy.” Instinctively Alison reached down and rubbed her belly.

  “Of course, makes sense. Doctor’s orders.” Amy smiled a nervous smile. “I was thinking I might pop into the kitchen for one myself though. It’s still raining out, but I’m dying for a coffee.”

  “Of course, go ahead.”

  “Can I bring you back something else?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  As quickly as Amy appeared in Alison’s doorway, she was gone again. She made her way down the hallway and then through a door that led to the back of the hotel. The main kitchen was two floors below the executive offices, on the second floor of the hotel, the same level as the ballroom. Amy elected to take the staircase down the two flights. Walk up one and down two, wasn’t that the rule?

  As she reached the staircase landing on the second floor she placed her hand in the door handle, pausing to catch her breath. Why was she out of breath, certainly not from walking down two flights of stairs. She took a deep breath and pulled the door open.

  The first thing she sensed was how warm the kitchen was. A wave of heat hit her as stood immediately inside the door, getting her bearings. To her left was the cooking line where the four sous chefs were busy cooking up breakfast for the late-rising guests. Two busied themselves over the open flames of the gas stoves, one worked at the cold table, while the fourth worked at inspecting the orders before putting them up on the line. In front of the line stood impatient waiters, anxious to claim their orders then carrying them, two and three at a time, through the swinging door that led to the dining room.

  To her right was a corridor that led to the cold and dry storage areas of the hotel, shut tight and locked when the kitchen was quiet, open and frequently visited this morning by young culinary apprentices as they began the early prep for the afternoon lunch crowd. They worked away on prep tables in front of glass refrigerators that kept the food fresh for the few hours before lunch service.

  Amy looked to her left again, spotting the cappuccino machine on a table set slightly apart from everything else at the end of the line. Beyond this was the chef’s office, a large glass window looking out over the line. She saw Carmen through the window, her face in profile as she focused on her computer screen. Amy hesitated before moving to her left, careful to stay out of the way of the waiters bursting in and out of the kitchen, dropping off dirty plates as they came in, taking out full orders on their way out.

  Standing at the cappuccino machine, Amy debated whether or not she should interrupt Carmen. She looked deep in thought, probably planning tonight’s dinner menu for the restaurant. But wasn’t that why she came? Was it really for the coffee, to stay out of the rain, or was it to satisfy her curiosity? Or was it to reconfirm her anxiety? She decided against doing either, curiosity and anxiety be damned. Miranda was right, it didn’t matter, go with it. Decided, she turned her back to the chef’s office and set about making herself a coffee. The cappuccino machine was top of the line, professional. Luckily, she had been a barista in a younger, previous life, so she knew how to handle the machine.

  As she ground the beans and steamed her cup in preparation, she heard her name being called out from behind her. Damn, it was Carmen. Maybe if she ignored her, pretended she couldn’t hear her over the machine, she would let her be. As she frothed and steamed the milk, making as much noise as possible, she heard her name again, louder this time. Damn, she wasn’t going away.

  As Amy spooned the hot, white froth over the top of her perfectly blended coffee, she turned towards the chef’s office, towards Carmen. She pasted a smile on her face as she turned, so that the face that Carmen saw was not anxious and annoyed, but friendly and welcoming.

  “Amy.”

  “Carmen.” Amy sipped her latte, giving herself a foamy white moustache. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Carmen laughed a little laugh. Pointing to her own upper lip, she said “You’ve got a little.”

  Amy immediately understood. A little embarrassed, she wiped her upper lip with the back of her hand, then smiled. “Thanks.” She looked to her left, then her right, trying to decide if she wanted to stay or go. As Carmen didn’t seem to make a move, she decided that it would be rude of her leave so quickly.

  “What are you working on?” Amy decided to make polite conversation. At least she had her coffee.

  Carmen crossed her arms and her legs at her ankles, looking very comfortable as she leaned against the door jam of her office. Amy held her coffee and placed a hand, palm down, on the table that held the cappuccino machine, looking and feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

  “A recipe for the International Culinary Competition next month. It’s in Munich.”

  “Oh,” said Amy, sipping her hot coffee once again, careful not to give herself another foam moustache this time. “You’re on the National Culinary Team.”

  “Captain.”

  “You’re captain of the team.”

  “Yes, have been for the last few years.”

  “Of course you are.” Amy sipped again.

  “We won silver last year in Vienna.”

  “Of course you did.” Sip.

  “We want to come home with the gold this year.”

  Amy mumbled to herself this time, “Of course you do.” This conversation wasn’t doing anything to alleviate her anxiety. Actually, it was having the opposite affect.

  “What was that?” Carmen tilted her head forward, leaning into Amy so she could hear her better.

  “I said I’m sure you’ll win it this time.”

 
; “I certainly hope so. As captain, it’s a little unnerving, and a lot of pressure.”

  “I’m sure you’ve got this one.”

  “Thanks, Amy, that means a lot. I appreciate the support.”

  Amy smiled sheepishly.

  “And you?” continued Carmen.

  “What?”

  “Anything going on with you these days?”

  Amy knew that Carmen was being polite, trying to get to know her a little bit better, maybe make a friend. Problem was, she didn’t know what to say, what would compare to Carmen’s activities.

  “Not a lot really.” Amy scoured her brain for something of substance to say. “I’m kinda seeing someone new.” Damn, that was dumb.

  Carmen pushed off the wall, uncrossing her legs. “That’s exciting.”

  Amy decided to backtrack and downplay the statement. “Yeah, but it’s new. You never know how these things will go.”

  “But so far so good?”

  “Yeah, actually, yeah.” Amy felt relaxed for the first time in the conversation. “I really like him, and I think he really likes me.”

  “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

  “And you? What’s your situation?” Did she really ask that? Wow, she really asked that. She now braced for the answer.

  Carmen uncrossed her arms and took a few moments to think before speaking. “I’m seeing someone new as well."

  Ow, that hurt.

  Carmen continued. “Well, actually, if truth be told, I don’t think I’m really that into him. He’s fun and all, but,” Carmen paused. “I don’t know. Who knows about these things these days?”

  That felt better. Amy leaned forward, not really realizing that she did this, wanting more. Carmen offered more.

  “It’s one of those ‘friends with benefits’ things, you know. He’s a great guy, and we get together once in a while, but I’m not kidding myself. He’s not the type of guy who settles down, if you know what I mean.”

  “Ahh,” is all Amy could say.

  “He’s fun, I really enjoy being with him, he’s one of those take-charge kinda guys you know, but one that only has so much time in his life for a relationship, and it doesn’t seem like he wants anything permanent.” Carmen stopped and stared off into the distance before continuing. “I don’t know. Besides, I’m so busy myself with the two hotels and the national team, I don’t think I have enough time myself for a relationship.”