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“Yes, Abbi alluded to that.” He hesitates. “You’ll be senior management, and Wolf Hotels has strict policies in place about managers engaging in intimate relationships with their subordinates …”
His words drown out with my bark of laughter.
A ghost of a smile grazes his lips. “Fair enough, but the policy is real, even if I didn’t follow it.”
“Can I hire my own assistant?”
“No. Belinda has taken care of that, andheis getting your office ready as we speak.”
“Probably wise.” When Henry replaced Abbi, it was with Miles—a gangly, nervous guy who Abbi never has to be jealous of.
“Also, the neighbor is off-limits.”
I frown. “Thehotel’sneighbor?”
“The owner of the property beside us, yes. They’ve caused me plenty of legal issues and I’m dealing with them accordingly.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“They picked the fight. And they’ll end up regretting it, believe me. Now, unless there’s something else, sign that and get your ass to admin.” Henry Wolf doesn’t wait for my answer, sliding out of his chair and strolling out of the Pacific Room without another backward glance.
33.Ronan
“Come on, man. It’s been ten hours. Can we switch it up?” We left Miami before sunrise with our belongings stuffed in the back seat, and I’ve been subjected to Connor’s never-ending country music playlist the entire ride.
“You can listen to whatever you want when you’re the one driving.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “I said I’d drive!”
“Yeah, but no one else handles sweet Darla.” He smooths his hands over the steering wheel of his fully loaded, limited edition red Bronco.
“Am I gonna find you with your dick jammed into the fuel hole one day?”
“It’s too small for me,” he retorts, as if the thought has already crossed his mind.
I shake my head. “If you paid half as much attention to the women you hook up with as you do this thing …” Connor droveDarlaoff the lot four months ago and has spent every day fawning over her since, polishing rims and wiping off dust that dares to settle.
“I must be doing something right ’cause the ladies keep coming back.” He winks at the elderly toll booth operator as hehands her four bucks, earning her cackle. Cranking the volume up as he passes through the gate, he shouts, “Quit bitching, boss! We’re almost there!”
“Stop calling me that.” My stomach flips with excitement as we head for the three-and-a-half-mile bridge that connects the peninsula to the mainland.
Henry Wolf wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted me at Mermaid Beach in three days. Within an hour of me accepting the position, I was signing my life away in front of an HR manager and choosing my company car. The deal included a one-way plane ticket, but I decided to keep Connor company on the ride here.
A decision I’m regretting now that my eardrums are threatening to bleed.
But at least the view is spectacular. I open my window and revel in the cooler temps. I won’t let it fool me, though—if the last two days of research taught me anything, it’s that I’ll be spending my days drenched in sweat soon enough.
Connor’s eyes sparkle as we regard the deep blue water on both sides of the two-lane passage ahead, speckled with fishing boats, pontoons, and a few Jet Skis. Neither of us grew up on the coast, so the sea and palm trees haven’t lost their luster for us yet. “Something tells me we’re in for another adventure.”
“We’re in for something, all right.”
A gut full of shame when Abbi appreciates just how wrong she and Henry are about my potential.
“Ronan.Dude. Where the fuck are we?” Connor hasn’t stopped cursing since he turned onto the Coastal Highway—named as such, even though it’s a two-lane road with a speed limit of thirty-five miles and a pedestrian crosswalk every time I blink.
Along most of the drag are luxury beach houses. They goon forever, broken up by a restaurant here and a bar there, and on the other side of them are miles upon miles of white sand beach and water that earns its emerald-green description with nothing more than a glance.
“Turn right up ahead,” I instruct, pointing at the street that leads into a twelve-foot-tall metal gate.