Текст книги "The Allure of Dean Harper "

Автор книги: R. S. Grey

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Six

 

 

 

Lily

The suitcase I’d borrowed from Jo had a wheel that rattled nonstop. I would have checked it at the entrance had Dean not explicitly forbidden us from doing so. “We don’t have time to wait for bags when we get to Vegas. Pack light.” I cursed him in my head as the wheel got stuck for the fifth time since entering the airport. I kicked it back into alignment and then locked eyes with the girl standing in front of me in line at the airport Starbucks.

She was wearing Uggs and jean shorts, and rolled her eyes at the audacity of my squeaky wheel. She turned back to her friend and leaned in. “Soo ratchet.”

Did she think she was whispering? I could hear every word she said and I desperately wanted to tell her that “ratchet” wasn’t a real word—not unless she was working from the Kardashian-Webster Dictionary.

“Oh my god, she’s so basic,” her friend said, angling back to get a good look at me. I tilted my head and smirked. I knew these girls. They were the type to sit behind their iPhones and tweet mean shit out into the world.

When they made it to the front of the line, I listened as they ordered two caramel macchiatos with skim milk and warned the barista behind the counter, “Don’t be stingy with the caramel sauce.”

He nodded and accepted their cash, all the while probably cursing them to hell alongside me. When it was my turn to order, I got a coffee and then leaned closer. “If I pay you five bucks, will you make their macchiatos with whole milk instead of skim?”

He smirked. “Lady, you don’t even have to pay me. I already did it.”

I laughed, left five dollars in his tip jar, and felt much better about the world as I walked away, squeaky wheel and all.

When I arrived at our gate—five minutes behind schedule—the rest of the team was already seated with their laptops and iPads on their laps. Hunter and Zoe were on one side of the aisle and Julian and Dean sat across from them. Hunter shot me a narrowed glance when he caught sight of me, but I didn’t care. Narrowed eyes beats flirty comments any day. Julian was busy on his phone, so I just smiled and rolled past.

When I registered Dean’s outfit, I knew I’d made a mistake. I’d slipped on a sundress and Converse before heading to the airport. Dean was wearing a navy suit, shined shoes, and an expression that warned me away.

The only evidence that he was less prepared than normal was the short stubble across his jaw. I liked it.

“Good of you to join us,” he said. His deep voice reminded me of what he’d sounded like the night before, when he’d pulled my hair back and whispered dirty thoughts in my ear.

Zoe patted the leather seat beside her and I jumped slightly. “Lily, come sit and tell me if you like these shoes. I’ve been eyeing them for the last few weeks.”

I glanced back at Dean to see if maybe he’d rather I sit by him, but he was focused on his laptop. I’d been in his bed less than twelve hours before and he was already ignoring me. I wheeled my suitcase toward Zoe and sat. The leather was cold on the backs of my thighs and I couldn’t concentrate on anything she said. She was talking about shoes and pointing out different color combinations. The entire time, I was acutely aware of Dean. Every time he moved, my gaze flicked over to him. When he took a phone call, I listened with attentive ears. When he tilted his head from side to side, stretching out his neck, I wondered if he was sore from our night.

When we boarded the plane, Zoe slid into the vacant seat beside mine, and Dean and Julian took the seats diagonally across the aisle from us. I couldn’t see him without sitting on my heels.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I flicked my gaze away from the sliver of his head that I could see and sat lower in my seat.

“Nothing,” I said, reaching into my purse for…what? Grab something, you idiot.

I pulled out my wallet, pretended like I was counting my bills, and then shoved it back inside my purse. The entire time, Zoe stared at me like I was a crazy person. “Got everything you need?”

I laughed nervously. “Good to go.”

She arched a brow. “I think you need to relax.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but she was already turning toward the aisle in pursuit of the flight attendant. Too bad for her, the attendant—a pretty brunette with a cute little pair of wings positioned directly beside her cleavage—was already leaning down and flirting with Dean.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll go with a water,” he said, smiling up at her.

He never smiled at me.

“Are you sure?” She winked. “You are headed to Vegas after all.”

He shook his head.

“How about I bring you a water and something else?” she insisted. “On me?”

What, like your vagina in a cup? Jesus.

“Yoohoo,” Zoe said, waving her hand in the air and cutting off the flight attendant’s flirting. She turned toward us and I saw the nametag pinned to her top: Beatrice. “Yes, hi Beatrice. Sorry to interrupt, but I think Dean is good with water, and my friend and I would really love vodka cranberries.”

I sank lower in my seat and tried to hide my blush.

“Zoe, behave. This is a work trip,” Dean said, condemning her drink choice. I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see behind the headrest.

“I don’t have any meetings today. I can drink one vodka cranberry.”

“You may not have any meetings, but Lily and I have one as soon as we land.”

I jumped out of my chair. “What?”

The last itinerary I’d seen listed events starting the following day.

Dean’s gaze sliced up to me. That jaw was set and his piercing brown eyes had no room for love in them when they were so filled with hate.

“I would have told you had you given me the chance.”

I swallowed and glanced away. We could have easily been referencing a different topic all together, but with Dean, I could never tell.

“Just email me the new itinerary so we’re all on the same page.”

“Already did,” he said, turning around in his seat and effectively dismissing me. “Check your inbox.”

I turned to my phone and pulled up my inbox, curious to see what he’d written.

From: Zoe Davis

To: Lily Black

Subject: FWD: LVRW Itinerary Update

 

Begin forwarded message:

 

From: Dean Harper

To: Zoe Davis

Subject: LVRW Itinerary Update

 

I’ve attached an updated Itinerary for Lily. Make sure she gets it.

 

D. Harper

The asshole hadn’t even emailed it to me himself.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

 

 

Dean

Lily was poison, just as I’d feared she would be. I’d woken up in my bed to find her gone, no sign of her anywhere except for the lingering scent of her hair on my pillow. I’d felt like a fool chasing a ghost around my house at 4:30 AM. She could have at least had the decency to leave me a note, but instead she disappeared, ignored my calls, and shot me a one-word text: “Home.”

When I first spotted her at the airport, I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Lily in a sundress, tan and glowing, was a sight that didn’t belong on a business trip. Whereas I felt like shit from my lack of sleep, Lily was radiant. Her blonde hair was twisted up in a bun, revealing the slender slope of her neck and collar bone.

Had she not snuck out of my house in the middle of the night, maybe I would have given her a warmer welcome, but I was pissed. My patience with her was shot and it was only the first day of our Vegas convention.

I worked through the entire plane ride, doing my best to block out her and Zoe’s laughter. Eventually, the flight attendant brought me a pair of headphones with a little wink. She probably wouldn’t have left my house at four in the morning, I thought as I took them from her and blocked out the sound of Lily.

By the time we arrived at the Bellagio, I was exhausted.

“Oh, VIP check-in? Very fancy,” Zoe quipped as I lead the group past the front of the lobby. The Bellagio was packed with people waiting to start their Vegas vacation. Sweaty tourists in Hawaiian shirts fidgeted on their feet, anxious and impatient.

“I rented one of their private villas for a few days. It was the only thing available.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly impressed. “Unfortunately, it’s a three bedroom.”

Julian arched a brow. “I could have made arrangements at a different hotel.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “No. You have to stay with us.”

I knew she was nervous. This was her first big work trip and she thought Julian was her only ally. I could have been her ally had she not left at 4 AM.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said to Julian. “You can have your own room. I’ll bunk with Hunter and the girls can take the last room.”

Zoe coughed. “No can do. I snore. Like really bad.”

Lily laughed. “Is there a couch? I’ll just sleep on that.”

I nodded and spun around before Lily could see my shocked face. Most women I’d dated would have cut my balls off if I’d suggested that they sleep on a couch.

“Do I have time to change before our meeting?” Lily asked, sidling up beside me at the check-in counter. This was supposed to be VIP, but there was no one manning the desk. I pushed the bell two more times and finally slid my gaze to Lily.

“Actually, I won’t be needing you at the meeting any more.”

Her face fell. “What do you mean?”

“The meeting with Antonio Acosta is tomorrow. That’s what I want you to focus on. The meeting today is just with a graphic designer I may hire.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip and then her eyes shot up to me with excitement. “I could still go with you. I’d like to see what kind of graphics—”

I cut her off with a sharp shake of my head. “No need.”

Finally, a skinny kid in a suit two sizes too big for him pushed open the door from behind reception. He looked flustered and the sweat coating his brow warned me not to berate him for making us wait.

“Hello, I’m sorry. I was helping another guest with a, er, bathtub situation.”

He faltered at the end of his sentence and Zoe started laughing. Clearly some kinky shit was going down in the rooms of the Bellagio.

The kid’s face went beet red and he started typing away on his computer. “What name is the reservation under?”

“Dean Harper.”

The entire time he checked us in, I tried to ignore Lily’s presence beside me. She seemed hurt that I didn’t want her at the meeting any more, but that didn’t make sense. She was the one who’d wanted to leave my house before the crack of dawn. She couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I stared down at her hands, clasped in front of her dress. She was picking at her nail, focusing all of her attention on that one cuticle. Those hands had been around my neck, gripping onto me for dear life just a few hours earlier.

“Lily,” I said hesitantly, unsure of where my sentence would lead.

Her gaze shifted to me and she offered up a fake, flat smile. “Have fun at your meeting. Zoe talked about hitting the pool, so I guess I’ll join her.”

“Woohoo! Let’s go now, Lil. This is dullsville.”

Lily turned back to her and laughed. “I guess the guys can take our bags to the villa.”

Julian nodded. “Go ahead. I got your stuff.”

She thanked him and bent down to retrieve her bikini from her suitcase. It was a little white string thing and suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted her to go to the pool.

“Sir. Sir?”

The kid was trying to get my attention so he could explain the hotel policies, but I was watching Lily walk away with Zoe. Fucking Zoe. She was a bad influence.

Julian nudged me in the shoulder. “Can you sign the papers so we can go to our room already? I need to call Jo.”

I shook my head and turned back to the reception desk. Once the papers were signed and I had five room keys in hand, Hunter, Julian, and I set off to find the villas. Hunter took the lead with the hotel attendant, helping to ensure none of the bags fell off the cart.

“You want to tell me about last night?” Julian asked, blindsiding me.

I slid my gaze to him. “That was quick.”

Julian narrowed his eyes. “News travels. You realize how terribly this could end, right?”

“It won’t. Nothing will change.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “Those sound like some famous last words if I’ve ever heard them.”

I ignored him and checked my watch. My meeting was set to start in thirty minutes and I still needed to confirm the location. “I’m going to head back to the lobby. Could you make sure Lily’s bags get placed in the third bedroom? I’ll take the couch.”

Julian chuckled. “Wait, what’s that? Is Dean Harper actually putting someone else’s needs before his own?”

I glared at him. “Wait, what’s that? Did you just offer up your bed for me? What a good friend.”

He laughed and started walking backward to catch up with Hunter and the hotel attendant. “Sorry man, didn’t hear that last part. I’m sure that couch will be really comfy!”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

 

 

Lily

If I saw one more slot machine or frozen daiquiri, I was going to lose it. I’d been in Vegas for twenty-four hours, prepared to work, and instead, I’d lounged by the pool and worked on my tan lines. I should have been involved with the graphic design meeting the day before, but Dean was keeping me out of the loop on purpose. Fortunately, that was about to change.

“What time is your meeting with Antonio Acosta supposed to end?” Zoe asked from the bathroom door.

I paused with my mascara wand a few inches from my face and met her eyes in the mirror. “Probably around five.”

She nodded. “Okay cool. I think we’ll all get dinner and then the convention is hosting this meet and greet at The Bank later.”

“The bank?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She laughed. “It’s a club inside the casino.”

I nodded.

“You’ll probably have time to change before that,” she said, scanning down my outfit. I was wearing a white button down tucked into a dark red pencil skirt. My nude heels were a sensible height and my makeup was minimal. All in all, I looked like I was running for Congress.

“You don’t like my outfit?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes, pretending to study my prim and proper attire. “I mean, I think you could stand to unbutton that shirt a bit, but if you’re going for the Quaker look, that’s cool too.”

I laughed. I was going for the Quaker look. I wanted to look older than twenty-three. I needed Antonio and Dean to take me seriously at the meeting, especially after the way Dean had treated me the day before.

“Lily, are you almost ready?” Dean’s voice boomed through the villa. “We need to head out.”

Zoe puffed up and tapped her wrist as if she were wearing an imaginary watch. “Mr. Punctual is ready for you!”

I concealed my laugh. “Yes!” I yelled back. “Just two more seconds.”

I finished swiping on my mascara and then rubbed lip balm across my lips. Zoe did her best to distract me, but I ignored her reflection in the mirror.

“Don’t you have a meeting or something?” I asked as I adjusted my watch.

She grinned. “I had two this morning while you were getting your beauty sleep.”

Ah, yes. I had gotten beauty sleep—in a bed that should have been Dean’s. When Zoe and I had returned to our villa the night before, I’d found my bags inside the third bedroom. Julian insisted Dean wanted me to have it, but Dean hadn’t been around to ask. I’d laid down on the king size bed covered in soft linens and plush pillows, and figured Dean would come yank me out of it if he wanted me on the couch.

He hadn’t, and I was eternally grateful.

“Lily!” Dean yelled.

I rolled my eyes and yanked my tote bag over my shoulder. “I’m coming!”

I pushed past Zoe and found Dean standing in the foyer of the villa, staring down at his watch. He’d avoided me for the last twenty-four hours, but we were about to go to a meeting together so he’d have to at least acknowledge my presence.

He was wearing navy pants and a light blue shirt. The top few buttons were undone and his dark brown leather shoes matched his leather belt. The wave in his hair was tamed away from his face and his jaw was clean-shaven again. He looked as debonair as Cary Grant and for a moment I second-guessed my outfit.

He pulled open the door. “C’mon. The meeting is across the hotel.”

He was being impatient with me for no reason. We were thirty minutes ahead of schedule and I’d spent the morning going over the list of questions I had for Antonio. I was more than prepared.

“Did you have a productive day yesterday?” I asked as we hit the back entrance of the hotel.

“It wasn’t a total waste,” he replied as his fingers worked away on his phone.

“Zoe and I ran topless through the hotel yesterday,” I said, to see if he was paying attention. “It was really fun.”

His brown eyes sliced over to me without a trace of humor. “I hope you spent your time a little more productively than that.”

Oh my god. I wanted to strangle him. Where was his sense of humor? Where was his fun side?

“Well, well, look who it is.”

I turned toward the voice and found Antonio Acosta standing near the entrance of the ballroom. He was wearing a chef’s coat over black pants and flashed us a friendly smile as we approached. He was younger than I’d expected, maybe mid-thirties.

After shaking Dean’s hand, he turned his attention toward me and beamed. “Ah, I didn’t realize Dean would be bringing a beautiful woman as his date for the meeting.”

I smiled and held out my hand. “Lily Black. I’m consulting on the menu for Dean’s new restaurant.”

His bright, almost amber eyes lit up. “And she’s familiar with the arts? Where did you find this one, Dean?”

Dean smiled good-naturedly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come, come. The hotel has partitioned off a small section of this ballroom for us,” Antonio said, pressing his hand to the small of my back and ushering us into the room. The expansive ballroom was much too large for what we needed. The ceilings were nearly twenty feet high and long ornate curtains were drawn to keep out the afternoon sun. There was a small round table set up in the corner nearest the door. A row of tea candles lined the center and a white tablecloth draped over the sides. Antonio pulled one of the two chairs out for me and I smiled up at him in thanks.

“The hotel is allowing me to use the kitchen attached to this ballroom. I’ve spent the morning creating the dishes I had in mind for your restaurant.”

I smiled as he picked up my napkin from beside my plate. He popped it open with a flick of his wrist and then draped it across my lap. I could feel Dean’s eyes on us, but he held his tongue until Antonio had excused himself to get the first dish.

“Please don’t encourage him.”

I retrieved my notes from my tote bag and shook my head. “I’m not.”

He grunted and pocketed his phone. Apparently, this meeting was worthy of his undivided attention.

A moment later, Antonio backed out of the swinging door with two small plates in hand. A rich garlic flavor wafted through the room as he stepped closer and set down a plate in front of each of us. My smile fell as I registered the dish.

“I’m starting you two off with a simple dish called gambas al ajillo. It’s fresh shrimp sautéed in olive oil infused with garlic. I’ve also added a touch of Spanish paprika and brandy.”

Antonio Acosta was the most sought after Spanish chef in the United States and he was starting us off with this? Before Dean’s bite reached his mouth, I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, but I have to cut right to it. There’s nothing unique in this recipe.” I pointed to the plate where four limp shrimp sat in a bath of olive oil.

Dean’s gaze met mine and I could see the warning there. He wanted me to proceed with caution, but I couldn’t. I’d spent an entire semester on Spanish cuisine, and by the time I’d finished, I knew my tapas. For the ungodly sum of money Antonio was being paid for this tasting, he’d just opened with the tapas equivalent of PB&J. He should have known better.

Antonio swallowed and nodded slowly. “I see. As a chef, I like to honor culinary tradition while striving for measured amounts of uniqueness," he explained deftly. “But let’s not dwell on it, let’s move on to the next dish.”

He reached forward and yanked the plates from the table before Dean could set down his spoon. Clearly, I’d offended him.

Dean arched a brow at me after Antonio had disappeared back into the kitchen. “Next time let me taste the dish before you overstep your bounds and insult the chef.”

I narrowed my eyes quizzically at him. He’d brought me there as a consultant, so I was consulting.

We sat in silence until Antonio brought out the next dish. It was a slight alteration of another standard tapas dish: patatas bravas. Instead of using Tabasco sauce, he’d swapped in a chipotle mayo for us to dip the potatoes into. The dish was good. Was it worthy of being on our menu? No. Every food critic in New York would pan us.

And that’s how the tasting went. Antonio’s dishes fell flat every single time. The ingredients were expected. The flavors were standard. There was nothing unique about his presentation and I doubted Antonio had even spent more than five minutes coming up with recipes for our restaurant. Either he was lazy, or he was purposely sabotaging our menu.

I shook my head. “This dish is served in every tapas restaurant in America,” I said, pointing at the short ribs in front of me. “Where’s the creativity? Where’s the effort?”

“Excuse me?” Antonio asked, rearing back as if I’d struck him. For twenty minutes, he’d brought out dishes for us to sample, and for twenty minutes I’d held my tongue as best as possible.

“Lily that’s enough,” Dean spoke up with a sharp tongue.

I flinched. “Are you serious?”

Dean tossed his napkin onto the table and shook his head. “Let’s go. You’re excused from the rest of the meeting.”

My cheeks flamed as he pushed his chair back and crossed around to escort me from the room. I saw red as I reached down for my bag. He was being taken advantage of and now he was punishing me for standing up for him?

Dean pushed the ballroom door open so hard that it swung back and hit the wall.

“That was completely unprofessional. What were you thinking?” he hissed, reaching up to grip my arm so I couldn’t storm off.

“You’re delusional. That man is taking advantage of you, and if you don’t see that, you’re blind.”

“He’s one of the most influential chefs in America. If his dishes are bad, you eat them and discuss the rest with me after the meeting is over. This is my business, my name you’re tarnishing by acting like a picky toddler.”

I stepped closer. “He just served us glorified french fries. How much did you pay him for that meeting, Dean? Ten thousand dollars? Fifteen?”

“I don’t care if he scraped the gunk off his shoe and passed it off as escargot. You have to understand how this world works. Until you do, you can head home. Pack your bags. I don’t need you in Vegas any more.”

I could feel the flush spread from my cheeks, down across my chest. He could have stabbed me in the heart and it would have hurt less than those eight words. I don’t need you in Vegas any more.

I’d slept with him less than forty-eight hours earlier and since then he’d ignored me, chastised me, and now he was dismissing me like I was last week’s trash.

“Fuck you, Dean,” I hissed, shoving my finger into his chest. “Fire me if you think that’s what’s best, but don't think you can just tuck me away when it’s convenient for your ego.”

“Don’t test me Lily,” he said, bending low so that his lips were aligned with mine.

I flashed him a dark, sardonic smile, scraping together my last bit of self-confidence. “Have a great rest of your meeting. I’ll see you at the meet and greet later.”

“Lily!”

I ignored him and walked away.