Already, my team is working, refurbishing the old hotel and transforming it into an establishment worthy of the Swanson Court name. In a few weeks, we’ll open for business.
Downstairs, the hired car is waiting outside the main doors, my chauffeur, Joe, in the driver seat. With graying hair in a crew cut and an ordinary black suit, he looks nondescript, but he’s a security expert, deadly with a firearm and a skilled martial artist. With him around, I don’t need any other bodyguards.
Not that I can’t take care of myself. On good days, I can outshoot Joe, and I still do mixed martial arts, but his job is to make sure I never need to use those skills.
Alex catches up to me before I get into the car. He’s a few years older than I am and is a partner at Fincher and Haven. The name of the law firm has changed since they were my grandfather’s lawyers back in the day. I’ve known Alex since he started working there as an associate, and he’s one of the people I trust with my business.
“I have a meeting with the interior designer’s firm,” he tells me, “so I’ll be in New York later tonight.”
“Fine.” I already met with most of the people working on the refurbishment before my meeting with Sinclair, but there are still a few legalities for Alex to resolve. “I want a full report.”
“Of course.” He nods. “Are you returning right away? You’re not staying at least a night?”
I almost smile. Of course he would expect me to have a date ready for my short visit. We’ve spent the last decade working hard and playing very hard.
“I have some business to attend to in New York,” I tell him, as the now constant image of gold-red hair and deep green eyes flashes through my mind.
He laughs. “That’s a first. I’ll let you know when I arrive.”
In the car, and Joe starts the engine. “Airport?” he asks, looking at me through the rearview.
I nod.
As we navigate the street, heading for my plane, my mind goes back to Rachel.
It’s not that she’s so much more beautiful than other women I’ve been with. She’s gorgeous, but it’s not just that. In my memory, everything about her feels perfect in every way.
There’s a familiar straining in my pants. It’s become the norm whenever I think about her or remember that night. Even now, I can still hear her moans, like an aural memory that won’t go away.
Get a hold of yourself, Landon. She’s a hooker. She’s probably been with five more men between then and now.
“Sir?”
I realize I’ve spoken aloud. “Nothing, Joe,” I say. “I’m just thinking.”
He turns back to the road.
She didn’t leave her card. Why? I retrieve my phone from my jacket pocket and dial Aidan’s number. It’s time to do something about this…about her. Aidan will tell me how to find her again, and this time, I’ll pay for as much of her time as I need to get my fill of her body.
Aidan doesn’t pick up at first. I keep trying until he finally does.
“Landon.” He sounds exhausted. “Sup.”
“I take it you’re in rehearsals.”
“You have no idea,” he sighs. “I have to work with this nineteen-year-old Broadway princess whose dad is producing the show. If she weren’t so talented, I’d fire her and tell her dad to go to hell.”
I chuckle. “If she’s talented, what’s the problem?”
“Where do I start!” His groan is dramatic. “Anyway, forget about all that. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m in San Francisco.”
“Sinclair taken care of?”
“Yes.”
“And work on the new hotel is going smoothly?”