Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Allison,” Isabel says, clearly not trusting me to take point on this, which I don’t really mind. Though Lisa seems a little surprised that my assistant is the one doing the talking. “What’s going on?”
“Decorating for the luau tomorrow night.” She straightens a fake palm before gesturing around her. “What do you think?”
“Well, it’s California, so we have real palm trees.” I point toward a row of them nearby.
“What Conlan mean is we didn’t expect you to start working so quickly.” Isabel shoots me a look.
“When I get an idea, I run with it,” Allison says. “And it just hit me, what this place needs is a classic luau. Tiki torches, rum drunks in those mug things, little umbrellas, all that stuff.”
I hate it. I hate it so much I could vomit. It’s everything I hate about organized events: tacky, overmanufactured, fake beyond reasoning.
“We love it,” Isabel says. “Right, Conlan?”
I grunt in reply.
“It’s certainly interesting,” Lisa says, frowning at everything. “But where did it all come from?”
“I paid one of the dishwashers to get it for me.” Allison says that like it’s no big deal.
But it begs the question, how the fuck did she get close enough to the kitchen staff to bribe one of them into buying her Hawaiian-themed party decorations?
I’m going to have a very stern talk with Damon shortly.
“Where did you get the money for all this?” Isabel asks.
“My personal account. Don’t worry, I saved the receipt, so I’ll invoice the hotel.” She beams at us. “It’s great, right?”
Lisa shifts uncomfortably. I can tell she despises this too. I want to tear all this crap down, drag Allison by the arm back to her room, and bolt her to the fucking floor.
Instead, I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Great job.”
“Really good job,” Isabel echoes.
“I guess so,” Lisa says, looking bewildered.
“I’m so happy you love it,” Allison says and starts to walk us through her planned festivities, which includes an entire pig roast. When she’s finished, I get the hell out of there.
“Indulge her,” I tell Lisa once we’re inside. “Give her what she asks for unless it’s obscenely lavish.”
“Are you sure?” She squints out at the pool. “That girl isn’t exactly—”
“Just do it. I know this is unorthodox, but please trust me.”
“All right, Conlan, you’re the boss.”
I walk away with Isabel by my side. I thought the party idea would keep her occupied for a while, and figured she’d throw a few ragers here and there, but I didn’t expect the fucking theme.
God, I hate a theme.
“The guests seemed to like it,” Isabel says once we’re in the elevator. “It might not be that bad, right?”
“It’s atrocious.”
She sighs, rubbing her face. “It’s really bad. But if the guests don’t complain—” She glances at me. “Can’t hurt, right?”
“For now, but what happens when she gets more extravagant?”
“Hopefully, it won’t get to that point. One party per week isn’t bad.”
“You really think she’ll stick to one?”
Isabel leans her head back and closes her eyes. “I really, really hope so.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t be the one cleaning up after her.”
“Good point. I only clean up after you.”
“Oh, someone’s in a bad moon. Did you skip your caffeine? You only have yourself to blame there.”
“No, I drank the coffee, and it was good. I’m just exhausted already. I didn’t sleep well.”
“Why not?”
“I never sleep well in an unfamiliar bed.”
“Is that why you’re trying so hard to keep the house?” I regret it the moment I say it out loud. She looks at me, frowning hard.
“No, I’m trying to keep the house to honor my father.” She says it very slowly. “And I don’t think that’s something we should joke about.”
I’m about to say she’s right, but the elevator reaches the floor and we get off together. She stalks away toward her desk, and I’m left lingering in the hallway.
Great, she’s pissed. Not like that’s new or anything, but still. It’d be nice if we could have a good relationship, or at least one that’s not actively adversarial.
Might help if I could keep my fucking mouth shut.
Chapter 21
Isabel
I make it through half the day without having to deal with Conlan.
It’s not that I’m avoiding him—although I sort of am. That gesture this morning with the coffee was sweet, and kind, and totally unlike him, which is making me wonder what the hell is going on with that man.
Then he makes some stupid joke about my house, and I know he wasn’t trying to piss me off, but he can be so insensitive sometimes that I’m just done with it.
I spend the afternoon checking on Allison, running errands I’ve been putting off, and keeping an eye on Conlan’s schedule. I’m down by the pool, nudging blow-up palm trees with my toe, when Damon finds me.
“Boss needs you in the conference room.”
“What’s going on?”