Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 13

"The top floor is our pièce de résistance. One of the big draws of The Cardinal," I say in the elevator ride up. The coffee has already helped my mood, and Arlo seems more controlled, casually sipping his drink.

The doors open and we walk down the hall to the gold door that leads to the wide rooftop terrace.

This area was my idea.

Archer wanted something more subdued up here, but people don't want restrained when they're chasing luxury. They want sheer, unadulterated opulence. Why half-ass it when you can feel like old money for a weekend?

Up here, we deliver.

Salem gasps and finally releases Arlo's hand. The kid rushes forward to explore the glass igloos.

"Holy crap, I never would've guessed," she says. "It's beautiful!" "Especially at night," I tell her. "Here." I lead her to the glass walls so we can look out over the cityscape in the distance. Thankfully, the place is perfectly kidproof, so we don't have to worry about chasing her little wolverine. "There are fire pits for cool evenings and winter events, and soft lighting around the pool for summer. Though it's the view that sells it for ninety percent of the people who'll come here."

"It feels like I can reach out and pick up the city."

"Yes, that's how we're selling it. Close enough to admire the view with none of the noise."

"Are the igloos heated?" she asks, turning back to survey the area. The pool glitters in the lights draped above.

"Of course. They're aimed at our winter travelers. We spared no expense, courtesy of yours truly."

She wanders closer to one of the igloos and places her hand on it. The frosted glass doesn't reveal what's inside, and I nod at her to open the door.

"Go on. It's important you're familiar with everything."

She unhooks the door and swings it open, but just as she's about to duck inside, Arlo whips around the corner and crashes into me.

Lukewarm liquid splashes my chest.

Fuck.

"Arlo!" Salem yells as he rips away again, his empty hot chocolate cup rolling around on the ground between us. Sticky not-so-hot chocolate seeps into the fibers of a suit that nearly cost me five figures. "Patton. Mr. Rory. I'm mortified."

Even the look on her face can't stop me from reaching my limit.

"Miss Hopper, are you sure you can control your son?" I grind out as she pulls me inside the igloo, perching her coffee on the walnut table and pulling tissues from her purse.

"I can. I will. This… this isn't how he behaves," she says miserably, dabbing at my shirt. "I'm beyond sorry. Forgive me."

"Maybe try fewer apologies and more lessons in manners next time.

Shit.

A thousand times, shit.

Lady Bug?

The most memorable one-night stand in my life, crackling with lightning chemistry, and here she is again, my manager and intern.

Fuck, I didn't know life could be so cruel.

The startled glance she shoots me still seems annoyed, but there's something different flashing in her eyes now.

I wonder if she's figured it out, too, even if I never gave her my name or phone number.

My skull feels like it's caving in.

"Enough." I reach out and take the towel from her. The stain is at the mercy of the dry cleaner now, no matter what we do. "Don't worry about it. I'll buy a new suit if I have to—and towel."

"If we got it early enough, it should come right out," she says. "If you just dab a little—"