Serving the Mogul Read online

  “Yes.” Inclining my head, I waited to see how she’d handle that.

  She didn’t disappoint me.

  She advanced on me, faces locked.

  Her eyes, a dark and velvety blue, like the expanse of a Texas sky if you could get out of the city far enough to escape the lights, narrowed slightly on mine.

  She didn’t blink. “It’s Friday night during opening week. An employee of the kitchen should always know where the kitchen manager or head chef is.” She angled her head slightly, one brow lifting.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  But since I didn’t exactly work here, I wasn’t sure the criticism applied.

  She was still glaring at me, waiting for a response.

  “Give me a second.” Tapping my Bluetooth, I waited until my assistant picked up. “Hey, I’m in the Crystal kitchen. Neither Tito nor…” Damn. The name escaped me.

  The brunette with the too-sexy mouth and efficiently neat manicure watched me closely.

  “Jeannie?” Miranda offered in my ear.

  “Yes. Neither Tito nor Jeannie are around, and I think there might be an issue in the Prism Hall. Track them down. Now.”

  Ending the call, I smiled. “I’m typically busy handling…bigger fires, but my assistant will have Tito and Jeannie here within the next two minutes. Or less.”

  Her lids flickered slightly, and a faint blush bloomed on her high cheekbones.

  “I’m Maximus,” I said, offering my hand. “Welcome to my hotel.”

  Her blush deepened, and it was a joy to watch that full mouth open. “Well.” She drew the word out as she slowly accepted my hand. After a short, perfunctory shake, she said, “I certainly feel foolish now. I apologize.”

  Looking around and still not seeing Jeannie or Tito, I had to give her credit. She wasn’t wrong.

  “You’re right about having the kitchen manager or head chef on hand at all times to deal with fires. If you tell me the problem, maybe I or somebody else here can help.” I glanced around.

  Behind me, someone cleared their throat. “The sous chef got injured, Mr.…ah, Maximus.”

  I turned to find the speaker. Tito had slipped into the kitchen, and he gave me an apologetic look, his olive complexion flushed. “I’m sorry, sir. Shaniqua was on the line, chopping up strawberries, and she cut her hand. It was kinda bad, and….”

  He broke off, his teeth catching his lower lip as he looked away.

  “And…?”

  “I saw the blood and just about passed out, boss. I’m sorry.”

  “And how’s Shaniqua doing?”

  He sipped from a nearly empty water bottle before answering. “Jeannie called an ambulance. It’s on its way.”

  “All right. Someone stays with Shaniqua until the medics come. Try to keep her from bleeding all over the place. Make sure she has everything she needs.”

  I gestured to the brunette. “I didn’t catch your name?”

  She barely glanced at me as she replied, “It’s Tina. I’m with Delights by Bell. We’re handling the Henderson/Garcia party, and we have a problem I’m hoping your kitchen manager can help with.”

  Tito swigged more water before nodding. “We can try. What’s the deal?”

  “Well….” She huffed out a sigh. “The deal is that the former Mrs. Mike Henderson crashed the rehearsal dinner, claiming that she had every right to be here to watch her little baby as the flower girl. And she’s making quite a disturbance.”

  Judging by the edge in Tina’s voice, it was easy to assume the soon-to-be Mrs. Henderson wasn’t happy about the former being here.

  “She continues to make a spectacle of herself, screaming there’s nothing for her to eat. She says she has shellfish, gluten, and egg allergies. Are we expecting her to starve?”

  Tito blinked slowly, his expressive face saying he was still processing all of this. “She crashed the party and is mad because the buffet isn’t catering to all her allergens?”

  “Bingo.” “We send out cards several weeks in advance, requesting anybody with allergens to advise us of dietary restrictions or allergies. Since she wasn’t invited, she wasn’t on the list.”

  “Hoo, boy.” Tito looked around. His brow furrowed as he considered the problem. “Okay, I can have somebody throw together a salad. We can add a chicken breast. That won’t take long. I’ll send a runner over to the main kitchen to get some strawberry sorbet as a dessert.”

  “She shouldn’t get any,” Tina muttered.

  I smiled at that and followed Tina out the swinging doors.

  She barely glanced at me.

  Good thing I had a healthy ego, or it might have thrown me off.

  “It seems your fire got put out fairly easily,” I said, matching her long, energetic stride.

  “Yes.” I thought her short, clipped response was all she had to say, but she halted and looked me square in the eye. “I hope your employee…Shaniqua? I hope she’s okay, and I’m sorry for lecturing you earlier.”

  “No need.”

  Those midnight eyes were fascinating.

  Taking another step closer, I watched her pupils spike, then swell until only a thin rim of blue was visible. I half-expected her to back away, but she held her ground. “I’ll tell you what…have a drink with me, and we’ll call it even.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You say that a lot,” I mused. Those eyes, her mouth…the entire package was fascinating. Up close, I noticed flecks of lighter blue in her eyes, a few faint freckles on the bridge of her nose. The image of me peeling away her simple black shirt to see if I could find more adorable freckles filled my mind. I was already planning a course of action, starting with a couple of drinks.

  I widened my smile. “Tina, I’d like you to join me for a drink. After your party wraps up.”

  “Hm.” That faint sound as she narrowed her eyes to look me over should have warned me about the forthcoming answer.

  It didn’t.

  Four

  Tina

  The guy was luscious.

  Everything about him was fine, from the warm blond hair shot through with darker strands of near-brown to his chocolate-brown eyes against his tanned skin.

  Arching brows several shades darker than his hair accented his beautiful eyes and his mouth…

  Wow. That mouth.

  It could tempt a saint to sin, and I wasn’t a saint.

  After he’d introduced himself, I’d recognized him. James Maximus—the elusive handsome billionaire known as the hotel king of Texas. Owner of this ridiculously posh hotel, as well as many others. He was the local media darling, no doubt.

  Not because he played up to them, though.

  He ignored the cameras, the innuendo, and the rumors, which only enhanced the speculation and gossip.

  That he was so ridiculously handsome didn’t hurt.

  I paid attention to the media as part of my business. Knowing the whereabouts, homes, and styles of the rich and famous in Houston was vital to keep up with the latest trends.

  He was arrogant. Or maybe just confident. He could walk into any bar, and half the women there would join him for a drink and what followed.

  But I had enough on my plate and still stinging from a relationship gone bad.

  “Unfortunately, I’ll have to pass on your offer.” I gave him a polite smile before gesturing to the double doors of the Prism Banquet Hall. “I need this…issue addressed.”

  Maximus blinked. If my refusal surprised or bothered him, that was his only reaction. A fraction of a second later, he inclined his head and nodded to the double doors. “I’ll walk with you. I don’t want the bride’s experience ruined by the party crasher.”

  “We won’t let that happen.” I held his gaze.

  He didn’t look away. “I respect that, but as this is my venue, I feel as though I have equal responsibility.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Fair?”

  Shit.

  I forced a smile. “Of course.”

  With no other choice, I strode into th
e banquet hall with James Maximus at my side. I looked around for the bitter ex-wife.

  She was easy to spot.

  Two bridesmaids had taken up sentinel, creating a solid line of silk and lace between Mary Jo Henderson and the affianced couple who sat at the head table only six yards away.

  Mary Jo was talking animatedly with a smile as brittle as glass, and I quickened my steps. I had images of her ripping through the bridesmaid wall, ranting at the couple right in front of her daughter.

  “Some people suck,” I muttered.

  Maximus surprised me by laughing. “You’re right on that.”

  I half expected him to take charge, but he stayed quiet next to me as I engaged Mary Jo Henderson.

  “Ms. Henderson.”

  She blinked a pair of big baby blues and turned her head toward me. “My dear...it’s Mrs.” She drew in a dramatic breath and pressed a hand to her chest. “I still feel, in my heart, that Michael and I are husband and wife.”

  “That must make it very awkward for you to be here,” I said, smiling politely.

  Another slow blink. When the woman said nothing else, I pushed on.

  “Ms. Henderson,” I refused to play into her drama, “we’ve already told you that this is a private event, and—”

  “I—”

  I cut her off before she could interrupt me. “We don’t want to upset your daughter by having you removed for trespassing. It is my understanding that, in exchange for the privilege of staying, you agreed not to disrupt the rehearsal.”

  She gave me a wounded look. She must practice in front of a mirror because it was excellent.

  “So…” I nodded toward the back corner of the room, “please return to your table, and we can discuss the arrangements we’ve made for your meal.”

  “Yes.” She smiled tightly. “The meal. Really, is it too much to ask for accommodations to be made for us with allergies?”

  “Not at all.” With a cool look on my face, I replied, “That’s why we send out meal cards to every guest invited asking about food allergies.”

  She sniffed and started forward–straight toward me. I held my position. When her shoulder jammed into mine, I didn’t move an inch. She tottered on skinny heels, spinning her arms until she found her balance. I kept a straight face as snickers sounded around her.

  She kept walking.

  Turning, I followed, releasing a pent-up sigh.

  “She’s delightful,” Maximus murmured. “You dealt with her wonderfully, though. Looking for a job?”

  “No.” The word came out sharper than I’d intended.

  I had a job. I had my own damned business and no intention of becoming a permanent bouncer at wedding rehearsal dinners.

  After two hours, I could finally slow down.

  Maximus had left shortly after the ordeal with Mary Jo Henderson.

  To my delight, she left not long after too.

  After the bitter ex-wife’s departure, it was like everyone in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. The food and booze started flowing much more quickly. I had just taken out the last empty tray and thrown it in the sink to be rinsed, and now I was leaning against the wall in the hall, my feet so sore that It wouldn’t surprise me to find blood on my shoes. The rest of me was only in slightly better condition.

  How was it I could run a half-marathon, and yet working a catering event left me feeling run down to the bone?

  “Have you seen him?”

  I looked up, but the woman who’d just spoken wasn’t looking at me. She had her eyes on her companion, a statuesque woman who grinned at the comment and pretended to wipe sweat from the back of her ebony forehead.

  “Have I ever…although not the parts I want to see.” She patted her chest and shook her head. “Have mercy.”

  They passed by me, each offering a friendly smile as they headed toward the kitchen.

  “I can’t decide if I hope to see him around here all the time or not at all.” The other girl pushed the door open but paused when it was barely ajar. “Imagine getting called up to the boss’s office…and Maximus was the one waiting.”

  “Honey, you’ve heard what they say about him. Do you think he’s got a playroom up there?”

  Her laugh, rich and full, echoed down the hall. “I hadn’t thought about it, Daisy, and now I won’t be thinking about anything else, you bitch.”

  As I stood there, listening far too close for my own good, they disappeared into the kitchen.

  A playroom.

  My cheeks heated even as I considered the scene. That wasn’t anything even remotely up my alley. But the idea of a blindfold, a pair of handcuffs, maybe a few other toys, and James Maximus?

  “Your heart can’t take it, girl.” Pushing away from the wall, I started back toward the banquet hall. I needed to finish the clean-up, go home and pull out the vibrator I rarely used. Otherwise, I might not sleep at all, fantasizing about a sexy boss with knowing eyes and a too-beautiful mouth.

  Then again, a sleepless night because of pent-up sexual frustration was an improvement over a sleepless night spent worrying about my struggling business.

  Five

  Maximus

  When I left the Garcia/Henderson event, it wasn’t to continue on my walk-through. Instead, I headed to my office and sat at my desk.

  The floor-to-ceiling windows had automatic shades that would close so the glare from the sun wouldn’t affect my computer screen, but at night, they retracted. The sprawl of the Houston skyline spread out, lights twinkling like jewels against the velvety backdrop of night.

  The blue made me think of Tina’s eyes, and I shook my head, amused at myself for the poetic turn of thought. I didn’t get philosophical about women.

  I enjoy women…a lot. And despite the bad memories from high school, I respect them. It hadn’t always been that way, a fact I couldn’t lie about because I demanded honesty, even from myself.

  After my mother’s diagnosis and short, painful struggle with pancreatic cancer when I was thirteen, I’d discovered who my father was—not a happy discovery.

  For years, my mom had busted her ass to keep food on the table and make rent, and not until after she’d died did I learn that my father was none other than Connor Maximus, one of the richest men in Texas.

  After my mom passed away, he took custody of me and spent years trying to buy my approval. He was a decade too late. While I’d gone to school with my shoes duct-taped at the toe, he’d been the world’s biggest manwhore, only thinking about himself.

  With almost a dozen half-siblings living in a giant mansion, I never wanted to be there. In the following years, I was headed for rock bottom and turning into my father.

  I didn’t see it coming. Not until my half-sister, Giana Eckerle, told me one morning while I was puking up my guts that if I wanted to punish our father by drinking and using drugs, I was doing an excellent job of it. But none of the women I hooked up with deserved that.

  I told her that any woman who went out with me knew the deal.

  She’d given me a look so cool it could have frozen the marrow in my bones. “Some would probably say the same thing about your mother.”

  Then she’d left.

  I’d brooded about those few words so simply said.

  And so fucking right.

  Screwing up my life to piss off Connor wouldn’t have made my mother happy. Once I acknowledged that I’d been disgusted with myself and vowed to change.

  But I still wasn’t the relationship type.

  I loved women—particularly in the bedroom. Outside and inside the bedroom, I respected them, but I never indulged in relationships or lovers. Brief affairs or liaisons where both parties knew the score suited me perfectly because I didn’t have to worry the woman might get dewy-eyed.

  Maybe I wasn’t so angry with my father these days, but I would never risk turning into him, either. I’d never promised a woman to love her forever and then break her heart weeks, months, or years later when I got bored.

&
nbsp; That had been my philosophy with the opposite sex for years, and I didn’t see it changing anytime soon. Or ever.

  The women I dated loved my honesty and rarely said no to a good time. Unlike tonight. A rejection from a waitress.

  Still, despite Tina’s easy brush-off, I sat next to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked up at a night sky that reminded me of her eyes.

  And I knew I couldn’t let it go without trying at least one more time.

  Turning to my desk, I eyed my computer and considered the time.

  They’d be busy with the rehearsal dinner for a few more hours. Smiling to myself, I switched on my computer.

  It was almost an hour later when I finally leaned back from the computer, and although it tempted me to stay and keep reading about Tina Siegler, I didn’t want to miss the chance to catch her before she left.

  I rarely stressed over a woman rejecting my advance because I never lacked companionship. But the more I read about Tina Siegler, the more I wanted her.

  The internet made it ridiculously easy to learn about people. Not everybody, but there were always some who left a digital footprint, and Tina had definitely done that.

  She’d been a track star in high school. Thinking back to the tight curve of her ass in those bland black pants, it wasn’t hard to imagine that she still ran, either because she just enjoyed it or because she was used to an exercise regimen.

  She also had a website for her own interior design business here in Houston.

  I’d checked Yelp for reviews. There were only a few, but they were all fours and fives, praising her for the timeliness, staying on budget, and her creativity. The most recent one was almost a year ago.

  Being in business for yourself could suck, so I didn’t bother wondering why she moonlighted for her sister.

  I knew very little about interior design, except what I needed to know for my hotels, but judging from her website, Tina had talent.