Serving the Mogul Read online

  Serving the Mogul

  M. S. Parker

  Belmonte Publishing, LLC

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 Belmonte Publishing LLC

  Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC

  Contents

  Free Book

  1. Maximus

  2. Tina

  3. Maximus

  4. Tina

  5. Maximus

  6. Tina

  7. Maximus

  8. Tina

  9. Maximus

  10. Tina

  11. Tina

  12. Maximus

  13. Tina

  14. Maximus

  15. Tina

  16. Maximus

  17. Tina

  18. Maximus

  19. Tina

  20. Maximus

  21. Tina

  22. Maximus

  23. Tina

  24. Maximus

  25. Tina

  26. Maximus

  27. Tina

  28. Maximus

  29. Tina

  30. Maximus

  31. Tina

  32. Maximus

  33. Tina

  34. Maximus

  35. Tina

  36. Maximus

  37. Tina

  38. Maximus

  39. Tina

  40. Maximus

  41. Tina

  42. Maximus

  43. Tina

  44. Maximus

  45. Tina

  46. Tina

  47. Maximus

  48. Tina

  49. Tina

  50. Maximus

  51. Tina

  52. Maximus

  53. Tina

  54. Maximus

  55. Maximus

  56. Tina

  57. Maximus

  58. Tina

  59. Maximus

  60. Tina

  61. Maximus

  62. Tina

  63. Maximus

  64. Tina

  Office romances by M. S. Parker

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  One

  Maximus

  “Oh…well, hello.”

  The sultry voice caught my attention, mainly because the owner had pushed her way into my personal space. The semi-formal cocktail dress, a warm champagne gold, played up her honey-colored skin and highlighted her hair.

  She was attractive.

  But as she eased closer, pressing her tits into my arm, I didn’t feel a spark of interest.

  Was it because I’d felt her frank study of me ever since I’d entered the lounge or because I preferred to be the one pursuing a companion? Or maybe I was just bored with easy women? Nothing about her caught my decidedly jaded interests.

  Likely, it was a combination of all three.

  Still, I gave her a polite smile as I extricated myself. “Have a good evening.”

  She faked a playful pout, but I saw the sharp snap of annoyance in her eyes.

  “I was ready to ask if I could buy you a drink, sugar.”

  “I’ll have to pass.” Rapping my knuckles on the bar, I caught the gaze of the head bartender and nodded to the woman. “But Ronnie will get you one on the house.”

  She feigned surprise. “On the house…? Oh, wait. I knew you looked familiar. You are Maximus.”

  “Yes. Have a pleasant night.”

  Before she could engage me in further conversation, I strode from the lounge. Ronnie and the lounge manager, Katrina, had things under control, so I continued to make sure everything else inside the sprawling building flowed smoothly.

  It was the last day of opening week at my new hotel.

  Today was the busiest day with two wedding receptions, a rehearsal party, an anniversary dinner, and a sweet sixteen gala.

  Business was good, and I intended to keep it that way.

  After walking through the casual but upscale restaurant on the hotel’s main floor, I started up the staircase at a near jog. A broad landing had several seating arrangements, all in use as people gathered to chat. I nodded at a few acquaintances or staff as I continued up the second flight to the mezzanine level and headed toward the eastern tower.

  The sweet sixteen gala was in full swing, the strobe lights and a pink and purple disco ball flashing as I opened the door to slip inside.

  The staff member assigned to watch the door for party crashers gave me a quick look. He nodded in recognition before turning his focus back to the partying teens.

  It smelled like cake, candy…and cigarette smoke. Cursing under my breath, I made my way around the perimeter of the room, noticing the lack of adults as I continued to search for the smoker.

  I found the two teenagers hovering in a corner near a potted fern.

  After dealing with them, I left, lingering only long enough to call down to the events staffing office and request personnel to hunt down the parents that left their underage daughters and friends in the banquet room without adult supervision.

  The two wedding receptions were well underway and well in hand, so there was no need for me there.

  I loved weddings, although not for me, personally.

  I’ve never done relationships and the shit that came after. Not once.

  So why did I love weddings?

  Most people associate weddings with white gowns, pretty flowers, and diamond rings, but not me. I associated them with green—giant piles of it.

  Turning toward Prism Hall, I checked the time. It was a few minutes shy of eight, less than a half-hour from the last evening event scheduled.

  I slowed my pace as I neared the double doors thrown open, as staff hurried in and out, taking care of last-minute touches.

  The Henderson/Garcia rehearsal dinner was an intimate affair with only twenty guests, including the bride and groom-to-be. Tomorrow, the happy couple would exchange rings at the Emerald Pavilion before moving to the Diamond Gallery for the reception. It was the largest ballroom in the entire facility, and since the hotel was also catering at the wedding reception, the profit margin was a number that made me smile.

  It all amazed me. The echo of the skinny kid I once was looked around and shook his head. It was a million miles away from the impoverished neighborhood where I grew up.

  “Everything seems to be going well.”

  As if she’d sensed I was thinking about her, Charity Jones, the Lux Hotel’s head of event coordination, had appeared next to me.

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  She tapped an ink pen against the planner she always carried on her person. “We really should have pushed harder for them to have ordered the hotel’s catering service.”

  I didn’t bother looking away from the flowing rhythm in the banquet hall. “Keeping the customer happy is part of the package, Ms. Jones.”

  “Of course. But the packages that offer catering from the hotel would bring an extra—”

  Turning my head, I looked at her.

  She stopped talking mid-sentence.

  It wasn’t an uncommon reaction around me. I didn’t set out to outright intimidate people into silence, but since it often worked to my benefit, I didn’t mind when it happened.

  “As we discussed, when putting packages together for the events portfolio, we need to maintain excellent flexibility for our patrons, Ms. Jones.”

  I knew to the nickel the difference between packages with or without catering included. I also knew th
at with wedding parties, in particular, it was essential to cater to the customers’ needs and wishes. It’s the one moment in life they overspend without hesitating. Big time. More money than they’d ever imagined. And I’d like to make friends with people when they splurge.

  “Of course, Maximus. I…am going to check in with Shirlene and see how she’s doing.” Charity gave me a polite smile and hurried off down the hall.

  No, she wanted to get away from me.

  That was obvious.

  It wasn’t much of a shock.

  I can be an asshole sometimes. I know.

  I didn’t particularly mind or care. So what if people didn’t like me, especially those who worked for me? Respect my authority and do the damn job. That’s it. And in Charity’s case, stop pouting.

  Pushing away from the wall, I walked to the banquet room. An enticing scent filled the air, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in hours.

  “Excuse me.”

  “Certainly.” I stepped aside without looking at the owner of the sultry voice.

  But as the woman strode past me, I discovered something even more enticing than the delectable food teasing my stomach.

  The woman.

  With brisk, serene confidence, she walked with one hand holding a cellphone to her ear, the other brushing back her short hair.

  She had an amazing ass.

  Interest stirred.

  Turn around, sweetheart.

  She didn’t. Instead of reading my mind, she walked straight to the double doors on the far side of the banquet hall.

  I considered following, but before I could decide, my Bluetooth earpiece came to life. Turning for the door, I took the call. “Maximus.”

  “Boss, it’s Roger. We got a situation.”

  The urgency in my hotel manager’s voice made me increase my pace.

  “That could have been…ugly.”

  “Yes.” There wasn’t much else to say, so I let it go at that. Standing with my admin assistant and Roger, the three of us watched as the ambulance doors closed.

  One of the private dining rooms hosted the fiftieth anniversary. The husband had been regaling his family with his usual story they’d all heard a dozen times—when he’d abruptly gone beet red, clutched his chest, and hit the floor.

  While half the guests were in shock, a granddaughter had called 911. One of my servers, an army reservist with medic training, had performed CPR, which likely saved his life.

  “Boss, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to call it a day,” Miranda said, heaving out a heavy sigh. “Anything you need before I head to my room?”

  “Contact the server…Penny.”

  “I’ve already noted it in my calendar, sir.” Miranda smiled. She’s wasting her potential in the position she holds.”

  “It’s a little scary how you sometimes read my mind, Miranda.”

  I went back inside. I’d been heading toward the kitchen before the dining room emergency, so I veered in that direction, absently adjusting my cufflinks.

  My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket, grimacing when I saw who’d just texted me.

  Charity Jones: I just heard about the incident at the Peters’ booking. I’ll get PR to draft a press release.

  I fired back a response.

  M: We don’t need a PR release. I handled the matter.

  Charity Jones: Maximus, incidents like these can escalate quickly. I think we should contact legal. Find out our liability if he doesn’t make it.

  M: No press. Leave legal out of it. I’ll make the call if we need them. You’re off duty the rest of the night.

  Go home, I thought, irritated, and leave me alone.

  I appreciated an employee who could take the initiative, but I didn’t appreciate an employee who assumed they knew everything about me and how I handled situations.

  Charity seemed to be the latter. We needed to have a chat.

  Two

  Tina

  I’d spent much of the afternoon updating my website and had forgotten to eat…again. On my way to the new luxury hotel in downtown Houston, I’d devoured a microwave burrito.

  It had been barely mediocre, serving only to fill the hole in my stomach.

  Surrounded by the divine scents of food from the catering company, run by my sister, Dina, and her husband, Newt, I concluded the microwave burrito hadn’t just been mediocre—it had been an insult to my senses.

  Dina, older by less than a year and so kind and warm I couldn’t imagine anybody not loving her, caught sight of my face and held up her hands. “Okay, now…what happened, who died, and where’s the body?”

  Despite my foul mood, I smiled. “Nobody died. But if you ask me, whoever concocted microwave burritos should be dead.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, honey. Please don’t tell me that’s all you’ve eaten today.”

  “Okay. I won’t.” With a self-deprecating smile, I cut around her. “Where’s the restroom in this joint?”

  With a sigh, she answered, and I followed her directions to an employee’s restroom. Pleased to find it wasn’t the size of a postage stamp, I tidied my hair and gave myself a mental pep talk.

  The last thing I’d wanted to do on a Friday night was helping my sister cater a wedding rehearsal dinner. I had nothing against weddings. And I adored my sister. But every time I pulled on the server’s black outfit, it reminded me of how much my own business was failing.

  “Not failing,” I told the woman in the mirror. But judging by the expression in the dark blue eyes, she didn’t buy my lie. The door swung open, and I cut off the one-sided conversation.

  Stepping a few steps from the restroom into the brightly lit kitchen, so new it sparkled, I followed the sound of Dina’s voice. She did her regular pep talk with the staff. Dina hated when I called them pep talks, but what else was I supposed to call them?

  As the rest of the servers dispersed, I went to stand with her.

  “Are you already trying to figure out what you can sneak away in a doggy bag?” Dina gave me a sidelong look.

  “Absolutely not. I’m a professional.”

  “A professional pain in my ass.” But she grinned. “Don’t go sneaking food. I figured you’d be hungry, so I put together a plate for you to take home. It’s in the first refrigerator, all wrapped up.”

  Throwing my arms around her, I gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek.

  “You are my favorite big sister, Dina.”

  “I’m your only big sister.” With a roll of her eyes, she checked her watch. “It’s time. Help me get things rolling?”

  “Sure.” Linking my arm through hers, I wiggled my eyebrows. “So…you wanna lay bets on how many disasters will happen tonight?”

  “Don’t.” She groaned. “The last thing we need are disasters. This gig is a great opportunity for Newt and me. Let’s not jinx it.” Dina shuddered.

  “Please help me intervene?” Dina looked almost frantic.

  The groom’s ex-wife complained loudly, and I gripped my sister’s hand and squeezed. “You keep her away from the bride while I go find the kitchen manager. Otherwise, I think she’s about to get a fork through her hand.”

  “She deserves it,” Dina muttered. “Showing up like this....”

  Losing the rest of the conversation as she strode off, I sighed.

  As much as I complained about the many hours I spent lately helping my sister, the work she provided was a godsend. I needed the money. Plus, I could help my dear sister not stress over wedding drama and party crashers.

  Now, where to find the kitchen manager?

  Three

  Maximus

  Pushing through the swinging doors, I strode into the restaurant’s kitchen, nodding at the few who looked up long enough to notice me. The catering team and my staff worked together in surprising sync, something that rarely happens.

  Tantalizing scents wafted from trays as servers moved to refill empty chafing dishes in the banquet hall just down the corridor, and my pulse picked up spee
d when I spotted the brunette I’d glimpsed earlier.

  “Excuse me?” She asked with her left hand against the swinging door, giving me a chance to take in the short, neat cut of her nails, her long, slim fingers…and the lack of a wedding ring. Even though I’d only seen a glimpse from behind earlier, I knew it was her. That voice, throaty and rich, was unmistakable.

  The surrounding chatter died, and several of the staff members glanced at me.

  “Is the kitchen manager around?” That sultry voice was direct and to the point. “Or the head cook?”

  Maybe if she hadn’t had the most fuckable mouth I’d seen in a long while, I wouldn’t have been so distracted. But I was very, very distracted, and those full lips twisted into an annoyed frown.

  “Well?” She cocked a brow as she waited for me to say something.

  “I don’t know.” Sliding my hands into the front pockets of my trousers, I smiled widely.

  She blinked.

  Several seconds passed as she ran her tongue across her teeth and closed her eyes for a count of five. When she looked back at me, she had a polite, almost saccharine smile on her face. “Excuse me. Did I hear you say you don’t know?”