Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
I already know I’ll never see Mr. Twelve and his black magic moves again.
2
LUCKY DAY (PATTON)
Present
Call it my lucky fucking day.
I stare up at the tall, sleek high-rise we’ve named The Cardinal. Soon to be the city’s finest hotel that’s not technically a hotel.
There’s no stopping the proud smile splitting my lips.
The tower looms over the distant Kansas City skyline like the elegant bird it’s named after, a stark red logo lit like a flame at the top. It’s not just the bird theme. We’ve borrowed a hint of style from the city’s prominent World War I memorial and its eternal flame.
Even though I’ve seen this place hundreds of times during its renovation, it still makes me happy as hell.
This is it. So close to the big opening I can taste it.
The chance of a lifetime—one we’ve had our eye on since our last big deal with real estate mogul Forrest Haute went bad—and now that it’s here, it feels sweeter because of the disaster that came before.
Well, almost sweeter.
Considering said disaster involved a big goddamned financial mess and a federal investigation, I think most people would rather get to the point without so much drama.
Except for Dexter, of course. Haute was the whole reason my brother met his now-wife and was hailed as a city hero for uncovering a sprawling crime ring mucking up the city.
Don’t worry about Dex, he’s doing great.
The rest of us had to stake our reputation on ordinary business—and that something is The Cardinal.
It’s the height of modern luxury, the pinnacle of what our company, Higher Ends, specializes in. Sleek condo units with tasteful art and comfy furnishings galore. Rooftop pool bar. Full cleaning service, food, and deliveries on demand.
All the convenience of a luxury hotel without the stuffiness and plenty of privacy.
What’s more, because I’m a master with delegating, it’s a perfect fit for our internship meant for recruiting new talent, especially in management.
We’ll have plenty of backups to help handle the daily affairs, plus any quirks that might come up.
Hopefully, our big opening stays quirk-free, considering this place is meant to run virtually on autopilot, but you never know. There’s always something.
So far, the only downside is that I need to spend more time mentoring the new manager and making sure she’s up to snuff.
Once, that might’ve been Dex’s job with his workaholic lifestyle, but now that he’s married and settled, it falls to Archer or me. And knowing Archer might scare the new blood away with his assholery, I stepped up.
Whatever. Let’s get this over with.
I leave the gleaming exterior behind and climb the steps up to the building, finding my way to the common area near the information desk. It smells like a new build with that minty, freshly renovated smell.
That’s one of the things I love about this job, being able to breathe your work.
Hell, if I wasn’t born a Rory, I probably would’ve wound up in real estate anyway. There’s nothing more satisfying than the smell of a new project coming alive, and because we’re perfectionists, everything is perfect here.
The lobby seats are old-world leather. The drop-down widescreen TV looks futuristic, and there are silver trays with complimentary breakfast pastries from the Sugar Bowl. We’d never skimp on supporting my sister-in-law’s bakery.
For a second, I stop and drink it all in.
Yeah, I’d stay here in a heartbeat.
Hell, I’d live here, if I wasn’t already set up with a perfectly nice place. I just hope everybody else agrees and this place gets booked up to capacity before we can say—
A loud clatter to the left stops my brain.
I turn, just in time to see little hands reaching onto a table for one of the breakfast pastries I mentioned.
A kid. Stuffing his face like a greedy little chipmunk. And the second he locks eyes with me, he runs, heading for the sofa and spilling crumbs everywhere as the pastry falls apart.
There goes my leather sofa.
Fuck, what a way to start the morning. Who let a kid go wild in here before we have customers?
“Hey, get back over here!” I shout, holding in some other choice words that aren’t child friendly.
He stops and looks at me with sharp blue eyes that remind me of my nephew, Colton. Except Colt is well-behaved and he doesn’t wedge crumbs in every nook and cranny of a twenty-thousand-dollar sectional.
“I don’t know you!” he says.
“Yeah, I know you don’t. But you still need to get off the sofa, little man.”
Wrong words, apparently.
He scowls at me like that pastry falling apart in his hands is suddenly made of mud. “I’m not little. I’m a big boy.”
“Fine. Whatever. I hear big boys don’t bomb other people’s furniture with crumbs,” I tell him, hoping it sinks in.
For a second, I think he’ll smear what’s left of that thing all over it just to piss me off. Then he just wrinkles his nose and starts making a half-assed attempt to wipe them off.