Page 18 of Maneater (The Mavens #1)
TWELVE
JOSIE
Once we had collected ourselves, Rory and I ventured out to explore some more, grabbing a late lunch at one of the more casual restaurants that had been facing delivery issues in the past few weeks.
We don’t notice any issues with food or service, but we do notice a hostess who nearly starts crying when the GM goes over to ask her something, and the chef on staff, who can be heard grumbling from the kitchen.
After that, we decide to head up to get ready for the meet-and-greet dinner and cocktails, putting on our best Mavens uniform—i.e.
, hot dress, big hair, sexy makeup, and sky-high heels.
A hostess greets us and then leads us through the large room filled with about a dozen large, round tables meant for family-style serving and getting to know strangers, though, since it’s relatively early in the night, only about half of them are filled.
An older man sits alone at the table we’re approaching, and Rory’s hand moves to tap my fingers before she leans just a bit.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Horace Greenfeld,” she whispers, and my eyes widen.
“From the investment company?” She nods. “What the hell is he doing here?” My pulse quickens with excitement, wondering if this case might really be that simple.
Rory shrugs, but then explains. “His social media shows him at a few of the Daydream resorts, so it seems there’s no ill will from him for getting beaten out. He’s the head of an aviation conglomerate, and this is one of the most luxurious chains.”
I scrunch up my nose, trying to fit that piece of information into what I already know of him as a potential suspect, but I’m unable to, especially not when the hostess sits us at the same table as him on the opposite side.
He’s preoccupied with his phone, giving me a good opportunity to take him in.
The man is in his sixties but clearly takes care of himself and enjoys expensive things, as evidenced by his outfit, jewelry, and watch.
He’s alone, but the seat next to him is pulled out like someone recently got up.
I look at Rory, who nods before I put on a shy smile, turning the man-eater on.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” I say, leaning forward across the table.
His head lifts from his phone. “But is that a Patek Philippe Nautilus?” I tip my chin toward his wrist, where the one-hundred-thousand-dollar watch sits.
He smiles wide, his eyes moving straight to my breasts, which are high and full in a push-up bra and low-cut dress, his body turning toward Rory and me.
From the corner of my eye, she wiggles her fingers coyly at him and smiles, though I don’t avert my gaze from the man in front of me.
A key part of winning over men with large egos is to make them feel like the only person in the room, rarely diverting your attention from them. For men who have more money than God, undivided attention is a currency in and of itself.
“It is. You’ve got a great eye.”
“I’m a collector myself,” I say, twisting my wrist toward him to show the vintage Cartier I’m so grateful I packed, a Christmas gift from Gabriel last year.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous. Do you mind?” he asks, putting a hand out.
He doesn’t know the watch has an audio recorder in it that’s taking note of this entire conversation.
His cold fingers gently touch the delicate skin on the underside of my wrist as I show it to him.
“This is a limited run; barely any exist. How did you get it?”
He sits back, but his fingers don’t leave my skin. I fight the urge to pull my hand back, the flirty version of myself on duty instead of the introvert.
“A pawn shop back in my hometown. The find of a lifetime.”
“You don’t say. Are you two ladies alone?” I nod, and he smiles wider. “Why don’t you sit with me? Move closer! No need for us to take up so much space, and you can tell me all about your collection.”
I look at Rory, who smiles sweetly and nods before we shift around the table closer to our new “friend.”
“Horace.”
I grip his offered hand and give it a dainty shake. “Josephine. You can call me Josie, though. And this is my friend Aurora.”
I’m pretty sure Rory corrects me and tells him her nickname, but I’m unable to pay much attention because I just watched Rowan Fisher walk into the room and greet a woman one table over from us before sitting down with a wide, gracious smile.
Dinner with a guest.
It’s interesting how he said he couldn’t have dinner with me because it would be considered fraternizing, something he doesn’t do.
I force my body to remain relaxed, not to let the brewing jealousy I’m attempting to ignore show on my face.
Jealousy, I certainly have no right to feel.
He is nothing like me, and I am currently working on winning over another man.
I don’t think Horace would notice, if we’re being honest, since he’s rambling on about his watch collection, grabbing his phone to show each one.
Still, I need to stay focused on why I’m here and what my mission is: uncovering who is sabotaging this resort.
With that reminder, I manage to push the distraction of Rowan down, and thirty minutes later, I’ve nearly forgotten about him. Horace has shown us dozens of photos of all the many luxuries he has, while Rory and I oohed and ahhed at each one, fluffing up his ego.
“Is this your first time here?” he asks, finally shifting the conversation back to us, and Rory nods.
“Yes. We’re excited to experience everything this place has to offer. You?”
Horace shakes his head. “No, no. I’ve been to many of the Daydream resorts, though this is my favorite.”
“Oh yeah? That’s so cool,” Rory says. “What line of work do you do to allow for that?” She twirls a lock of her blonde hair around her finger and makes doe eyes at the man. He falls for it, of course.
“I work in aviation,” he says, then thinks on it before giving us a condescending smile. “That’s airplanes.”
Rory’s fingers dig into my thigh with irritation, and I bite back a groan of pain.
Rory is not great at this part of the game: playing stupid for arrogant men who can’t quite see past your tits, the ones who think you have barely two brain cells to rub together, so they have to spell things out for you like a toddler.
It’s not for her, with her master’s in cybersecurity and a brain as powerful as a supercomputer.
But me? I’m used to it. In fact, I thrive on it: using people’s shortsightedness against them and manipulating people to get whatever I need from them. It brings me a unique kind of joy.
“Wow, that’s so amazing! I’d love to hear about the other locations you’ve been to,” I say. He rattles off a list, and I try to take note of them, though I know Rory and her computer brain have probably already memorized each one.
“I’ve been kicking around opening my own resort, so it’s important to know how the good ones are run.”
I look at my partner, who gives me a look.
“I actually was interested in this location before it was bought out from under me.”
My eyes go wide with shock, and my lips form a pitying pout. “Oh no! What a bummer!”
“Yes, I thought it would be perfect for a resort. Had a golf course in mind, instead of those ridiculous hiking trails. Who wants to go out into the woods when they’re on vacation?
” He sighs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
“A beautiful resort, don’t get me wrong, but it could have been magnificent if I’d had my way. ”
“I’m sure it would have been amazing,” I say sympathetically, despite the fact that I hate golf and enjoy hiking.
“So, what are your thoughts on all of the chaos happening around here? We’ve heard some whispers about a fire?
” Rory asks, tipping her head to the side and twirling a lock of hair on her finger.
She leans in, arms pressing her cleavage together, and Horace’s eyes slide right there before he speaks to her tits.
“Well, I think it wouldn’t be happening if I ran the place, that’s for sure.” I let out a small laugh, and he shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll get worse, and they’ll sell the place to me for cheap just to get it off their hands.”
My leg shifts, brushing Rory’s in a silent conversation. Horace Greenfeld is most definitely a suspect, with means, motivation, and opportunity all in his favor.
But my mind can only hold onto that for a moment when he looks over my shoulder, his face splitting with a grin before raising his voice a bit.
“Actually, let me introduce you to the man who outbid me. Rowan!” he calls, and my back stiffens.
Rory’s foot knocks mine under the table, though I can’t tell if it’s in an annoyed or panicked way. “Rowan Fisher, my man. How are you?”
I refuse to look over my shoulder to check if he’s approaching, though I don’t have to: I can feel him.
In moments, Rowan’s presence is at my back, and then his hand rests on the back of my chair, reminiscent of so many other investigations he’s crashed, reminiscent of just a few nights ago.
If I concentrate really, really hard, I can imagine them against the curve of my shoulder, grazing the skin there like a taunt.
“Horace. A pleasure to see you at one of our resorts, as always,” his deep voice says.
Rory’s fingers tighten on my leg. I’m grateful for it, for her keeping me grounded. I don’t look behind me, not even when I actually do feel his fingers grazing the skin at the back of my neck. It’s probably an accident, but it jolts through me all the same in an incredibly concerning way.
“I was just telling these beautiful women that this is my favorite Daydream resort I’ve been to.
Come, come, sit for just a minute.” He pulls out a chair, and I feel more than see Rowan step away and walk around the table, not sitting but instead resting his hands on the back of the chair directly across from me.
I can’t decide which I hate more: feeling him behind me or having his heated gaze burn into me.