Will I ever recover from the damage that’s been done?
We round the corner, walking side by side, our stride in lockstep with each other. Behind us, Wolfe and Brady guard their wealthy client, Liam Cartwright, a venture capitalist with a portfolio in the billions.
My hotel is a gorgeous blend of iconic architecture unique to New Orleans blended with a visionary eye to the future. My father built that with intent to give it to his daughter, when I was ready.
But I was barely a toddler when the Belvedere’s doors opened to the public. My father entrusted the operation of the Belvedere to my uncle. Marco was to hold it in trust until I grew out of childhood and came into my birthright.
Somewhere along the way, holding the Belvedere in trust for his niece mutated into corruption and filth as my uncle used the Belvedere as a front to run the most vile industry on the planet.
I can’t believe my father knew.
There’s no way he could know and not have shut the whole despicable thing down.
The Guardians say otherwise, but I’m not ready to accept their version of reality.
After the events of the past twenty-four hours, I expect my uncle to meet me in person and greet my return with suspicion and distrust.
By now, my uncle will have received a thorough brief on the man standing by my side. I go over the details in my head, cementing the truths and lies Mitzy spun together to create Liam’s backstory.
Despite my growing apprehension, there is no welcoming party. I glimpse Gerald and Stefan off to the side in the lobby, but they make no move to interfere as Liam and I head for the elevator.
“Do you want to go to my office?” A certified workaholic, it’s not unusual for me to spend the day behind my desk. If not there, I can usually be found shadowing any of the hundreds of employees as I learn the ins and outs of their jobs.
“I was thinking we head to your place.” Liam wraps his arm around me, tugging me close. The way his voice rumbles, wrapped in sin and masculinity, makes his desire abundantly clear to anyone who might be watching.
And there are many eyes on us.
In the lobby alone, over a hundred cameras imbedded in the walls and ceiling record everything that goes on. Our conversation is recorded along with all the rest.
I swallow against the lump in my throat as that stark reminder slams home. The security suite which monitors our guests against cheating at the tables is now zeroed in on every move I make.
It’s too easy to forget.
“Sir, I would suggest obtaining your own room.” Wolfe covers his mouth, hiding it from the cameras. He pitches his voice low.
“Maria’s suite will be sufficient.” Liam guides me the rest of the way to the elevator.
Still no welcoming party.
I can’t imagine Marco isn’t anxiously awaiting my return. He’ll want to see how I deal with the disappearance of Sybil. Suspicious by nature, he’s a smart man. He’ll also want to know what Liam means to me and how that changes the power dynamic between me and him.
My job is easy.
Love-struck, all I have to do is swoon over the Hollywood heartthrob beside me. I think I can do that; no acting involved. I’ve already fallen head over heels for Liam. I told myself not to. I told myself to focus on reality instead of the fairytale. I told myself it was all pretend.
And I didn’t listen to any of my own advice.
Like I said, the swooning part is a done deal.
The elevator doors open and Liam ushers me inside. Wolfe and Brady follow. Their fierce stares keep any guests from sharing our ride. When Marco doesn’t accost me downstairs, I assume he’s waiting to do so in a less public space.
It’s another reason I opt for my office. It’s a safer space than my private suite. Also, once in my office, we can take the private flight of stairs up to my rooms. Marco’s never stepped foot in my private space before, and I intend to keep it that way.
My outer office stands empty, as it should for a Saturday.
I let my staff go on the weekends. Just because I’m a workaholic doesn’t mean I force them to endure the long hours I put in. I also live and work at the hotel.
In many ways, I’m always at work. Mother thinks it’s a show of weakness, not forcing my employees to work the weekend.
It’s one of a million things on which we disagree.
With a breath of relief, I pass by my receptionist’s desk and place my hand on the doorknob. When did I start trembling? I’m not ready to face my uncle or my mother.
I never will be.
What I really need is a shower, some rest, and a bit of action between the sheets.
Thinking about sex with Liam brings a smile to my face. It’s one of those massive smiles that lights up a room. I feel invincible, like I can conquer the world. My steps quicken and my heart races with all the deliciously naughty thoughts swirling in my head.
With thoughts of sex on my brain, it takes a moment before I realize we’re not alone.
I slam to a halt as my mother’s imperious gaze sweeps over and through me. Disapproval and disappointment vibrate in the air between us.
Perched on the edge of my desk, Mother sits like a regal queen holding court from her throne. Back ramrod straight, her shoulders push back as her overly critical chin lifts, passing judgment on her imperfect spawn. Her imperious gaze rakes over me, scalding and burning, condemning my existence.
“Maria, where have you been?” Her voice is tight, as if scolding a recalcitrant child.
Her overly critical disapproval brings my shoulders to my ears as I seek to make myself as small as possible. Embarrassment heats my cheeks.
Why does she always have to do this kind of shit around other people?
I know the answer to that.
She wants to make me feel small, and damn if it doesn’t work.
36
LIAM
Maria’s mother is one imperious bitch. I should mind what I say, especially since I’m meeting my future mother-in-law, but holy shit. She blinks, ever so slowly, with gut-wrenching animosity seething in the background.
No one speaks to Maria like that.
No one.
I don’t care if the vicious shrew in front of me is Maria’s mother, there’s no way anyone will speak to Maria like that when I’m around. My intent was to sweep Maria’s mother off her feet the same way I do most women—with flattery and my irresistible charm—but that’s not how this will go.
I’ll deal with the fallout later.
If I can teach Muriel Rossi a lesson while I’m at it, then all the better for Maria. I get a strong feeling Maria’s been a victim of that woman’s wicked tongue since the day she was born.
How a mother can hold so much bitterness for her daughter is beyond me. My mother went days without food, feeding me whatever scraps she could scrounge. She used her body to shelter me when we lived on the street. She worked her body to the bone trying to turn our lives around.
My mother did everything possible to surround me with love. It was the one thing I never lacked and could count on when we had nothing.
Maria grew up with everything except her mother’s love. I believe people put too much weight on material things. I have the benefit of knowing what it means to be dirt poor and comfortably rich.
The things I had, and those I didn’t, meant little to me because I always had what was important.