Page 1

Part 1

Bite Me

Chapter 1

Kathleen

Do you see her over there in the three piece suit? No, no, not the sweating lady with a cough. I’m talking about the much younger, much more attractive person who looks like a spoiled prince on the verge of getting her way again. The one with the kind of androgyny that makes you melt and question everything you’ve ever encountered about gender, she’s that hot.

Yeah. Her.

That’s Ira Mathison. And I hate her.

Sounds childish, doesn’t it? I admit being around her makes me immature as hell. Whenever I see that smug face, all I can think about is screaming that she’s really not all that.

I wish I didn’t have to see her today. I told my dad that this was a terrible idea. Not that the Mathisons don’t have their shit together. By all accounts, they’re doing fine, even for an empire run by a divorced couple and their only child. That old balding guy there is Donovan Mathison, Ira’s father. He’s not a bad guy, I guess. Hell, I like his ex-wife, Carolyn. There’s a woman who knows her worth and doesn’t take shit from anybody. My role model.

Somehow, though, those two seemingly decent people managed to raise an insufferable shit. See? She’s noticed me. Now she’s coming over here, and…

“Morning, Kathleen.” If Ira had a fedora, she’d be tipping it. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. How are you doing?”

My assistant sneaks through the door with my coffee. Annie isn’t much younger than me, but you would think a decade separated us from how demure she is. A lot of people mistake her for my little sister even though I’m the only child in this branch of the Allen family tree.

I take the coffee from her, grateful to have something to occupy my hands with. When I’m annoyed, I get fidgety, and I don’t need Ira to see me anxious around her. We may be on the same side during this meeting, but I don’t need her holding my nerves over my head.

Because she totally would.

“I’m decent.” At least that’s the truth. Things could be worse, but things could also be way better. I only have so much patience. “Are the Anderssens here yet?”

Ira looks at her watch as if that will answer my question. “We still have fifteen minutes.”

I can already tell that this is going to be a long day. The Anderssens, a power couple who own multiple properties in the city, are looking to do something with a downtown hotel. Just so happens that the Mathisons are up the ass of hospitality. So, it makes sense that Donovan and Ira are interested in buying The Ace if only to add it to the many hotels in their domain.

When my father approached me about it, however, I thought he was nuts.

“Donovan and I had drinks the other night,” he said two weeks ago, lying back in his leather chair smoking a cigar and drinking his nightly brandy. He was in his office, one of the coziest spaces in the family house on the outskirts of town. We’re one of the only wealthy families who keep our roost in the city limits. Most of the others have houses up in the nearby hills, farther out in the mountains or other states – meanwhile, they keep penthouses, apartments, and small manors in the city. I moved out a long while ago to set up residence in the cutest three-bedroom overlooking the river… oh, right, my dad.

Where was I?

“The Mathisons want to buy The Ace, but they’re not just going to overhaul it like they do everything else. They want to turn it into a cultural center. Part hotel, part museum. That’s where he brought me in, see? They want to buy the property, but Donovan wants us to help with the remodel and get the public on board. They’re particular about their historical sites.”

Sure, a historical site. Just because a couple of presidents stayed there in the 19th century…

“This is a huge chance for us. For you. I don’t have time to deal with this on top of my other projects, so I want you to take control of our side.”

I was excited at the time. My father has trusted me more when it comes to the family business ventures. Right now, I run the show at multiple art galleries, since the Allens are all about the cultural arts. My mother, before she moved to Germany, used to joke that my father’s family had three hands: one dipped in museums, another dipped into art galleries, and the third patted themselves on the back for enriching the cultural prospects of the little guy. The most annoying kind of philanthropist.

Regardless, I was pretty stoked to take on a project like overhauling the museum part of The Ace. I may only be twenty-seven, but I have a double degree in business and art history. I am a master of grant writing. I single-handedly, I shit you not, recovered government funding for the local libraries in one of the low-income neighborhoods around here. Nobody else was going to do it, and I wasn’t about to stand around to see more kids go without books and educational internet access while the local fat cats (that I personally know) smoked cigars. Sure, I could’ve cut them a check. Except this was better for their long-term bottom line, and I try to be a bit more active than taking a passive interest in donations. I mean, who do you think I am… a Mathison?

“So, anyway,” Ira says as I attempt to turn around and dither somewhere else for fifteen minutes. “I trust that you’re ready for the meeting?”

I look over my shoulder, right into those troublemaking hazel eyes. Ira cleans up well, but I know how much she stinks beneath those nice threads. “What the hell do you think? I haven’t spent the past week piecing together proposals and investments because I’m bored.”

“No. Hardly. I don’t expect a woman like you to be bored.”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugs as if nothing about me matters. “Calm down. I know you haven’t dropped the ball on this. I’m just giving you a hard time.”