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There aren’t many words to exchange now. Katie is drifting off to sleep, and I would love to join her. As soon as I am able, I turn off the light and draw her deeper into my embrace, my mouth planting easy kisses on her skin as she lightly dozes against my arm.

She looks like an angel. A princess. A goddess. Her blond hair circles her head like a halo. If it weren’t for the pink and red all over her midsection, I would think she’s some virginal creature here to taunt me.

Oh, she’s taunting me. She’s making my life hell. No.

She’s enriching it.

I don’t want to let her go. I’ll keep her here forever. The outside world won’t miss her. I’d miss her presence more.

The words are on my lips, but I can’t bring myself to say them. It’s not the right time.

Yet when I hear her lightly snoring against my pillow, I take my chance and unleash a phrase I’ve seldom said in my life.

“I love you, Katie.”

She doesn’t respond. She’s asleep.

Soon, I am too, and I wonder if my feelings are only a dream.

If I hadn’t seen Kennedy nude numerous times at Midnight, I would think she was overcompensating with this stupid car of hers.

Look, I’m used to rich bitches having ridiculous cars. My car wasn’t exactly cheap either, although in my family we tend to stick to nondescript sedans that are more flawless function than style. However, I’m not immune to a convertible.

Anyway, Kennedy Anderssen has pulled up to The Ace in her souped-up convertible, this giant machine that makes even Donovan Mathison sigh in disbelief. To be fair, Lara doesn’t look too proud that her spouse owns a lime green monster and isn’t afraid to drive it around downtown in front of protestors and the occasional reporter.

“I’m so glad she was able to make this a farce,” my father mutters as we get ready to welcome Kennedy and go inside to finalize the sale.

Okay, so the sale isn’t finalized yet. That should go through by next week, after which we will be given the keys and can start the real work on the hotel. I’m not getting much rest once that happens.

Kennedy’s barely to us when we hear the first voice on the other side of the street, where the police have designated a protected protest zone. We managed to get them off the private property, but apparently the guy who runs the business across the street is a sympathizer.

“I hope you sleep well at night on your bed of money, you capitalistic pig!”

Cheers erupt from the other dozen or so protestors who turned out today. What do they think they’re accomplishing? We’re still buying the hotel. We’re still remodeling. We’re still opening it as a bustling business in the community. Is it because we’re corporate? Is it because everyone thinks we rich bastards only want to destroy everything? Well, I don’t know about the Anderssens, but I don’t think my father really cares about that. He gets his kicks from chasing women, not kicking the little guy while he’s down.

Some things are the same between us, I guess.

Kennedy ignores the protestor and waltzes into the building without us. Here we go.

I’ll be glad to have business done with these people. All the preening and bullshit has me so on edge that I keep waiting for another shoe to drop while we’re in our meeting. Our lawyers are present, displaying the paperwork we’ve all agreed to. The down payment has already gone through. All that’s left is to sign a few documents and wait for them to process.

It should be routine, and it is until the meeting is over and we’re shaking hands.

“Ira,” Lara says, bringing me in close. Great. Here we go again. More flirting. “We’re looking forward to the final meeting next week. However…” Woo! Here we go! “We’re looking even more forward to the festivities we have planned afterward.”

“Is that so…”

“Why, yes. Don’t tell your father, but after we have the celebratory drinks that afternoon, Kennedy and I would like to treat you and Kathleen to a trip up in the mountains.”

“Kathleen, huh?”

“Naturally. We were awfully hard on her these past few weeks. Not her fault, really, but we would like to make it up to her. Besides…” Lara puts her hand on my shoulder. Her classic move, not that her flirting works on me. “The party we have in mind is more her tastes than your father’s, if you get what I mean.”

I snort. “Up in the mountains, huh? I can only guess what you’re planning.”

“You’ve been to the Manoir, right?”

“Once or twice.” Any rich deviant has been there. It’s a notorious place for the elite kinksters, where for one night you can hire a pretty woman to be your sub or Domme. Everyone knows that the on-call services of one of those girls are reserved for the Anderssens.