Page 91 of Restless Hawke

Things I can’t take back.

I was so terrified about Coen finding me, about him confronting him about last night and why I ran this morning.

But I was worried about the wrong person…

Slowly, I lower myself into one of the chairs facing him, and his gaze rakes over me, assessing and finding me wanting.

My unexpected visitor releases a long, low sigh, his eyes scanning over me. “I’m disappointed, Allegra. You were supposed to get close to him, watch him, make sure he wasn’t going to fuck me over. What you absolutely weren’t supposed to do was fuckhim.”

13

FOUR DAYS LATER

COEN

Frank Sinatra croons through the speakers while just outside the window to the left of my table, lights dance and water shoots from the Bellagio fountain in a choreographed dance intended to captivate.

I stare at the show but barely see it, taking a sip of my pre-dinner drink. A huge part of me wishes I could just delight in the spectacle the way the tourists lined up along the front of the fountain do.

Theyoohandahh. Take photos and videos. Some dance on the filthy Las Vegas Boulevard sidewalk. Others just gape at the display, stunned by its grandeur and beauty.

There was a time when I was the same.

When I couldenjoymoments like this.

Sitting in a beautiful restaurant with a good drink in one of the most exciting cities in the world, watching a show made of nothing but water, lights, and music, that has become one of the major tourist spots in a town filled with them.

Not tonight.

Maybe not any night ever again.

My dark mood has followed me since Monday morning when I woke up to an empty bed and then had to go have that very uncomfortable conversation with Dad. As I had hoped, he did the “dirty work” and explained to the rest of the family precisely what went down when Satriano met with me, what he asked me to do, and the interesting information I learned about his new businesses.

But my mood didn’t get any better as the week progressed, compounded by the various “mini emergencies” that seemed to pop up around the hotel and casino.

Keys that wouldn’t work.

Malfunctioning machines.

Drunk patrons.

They’re just growing pains.

We’ve been open for less than six weeks.

There are bound to be complications and minor problems here and there. That’s true of any business, especially one that caters to tourists in a city like New Orleans. But now it’s becomemyjob to ensure they’re resolved.

Since the moment I returned home, I was thrust into this role at the hotel, which I hadn’t expected to be waiting for me when I got back. It’s important—work Savage or Gabe or even Cass should be handling. But they have enough on their plates, and somehow, they handed it to me like it was always intended to be that way.

Executive General Manager.

I’m not even surewhatthat title means, but at least staying busy kept me from having too much free time to dwell on how Allegra disappeared or the gaping hole it seemed to leave in my heart when it shouldn’t have mattered.

She’s not the type of girl who stays.

I knew that the first time I met her.

But I let one incredible night together somehow convince my better judgment to take a hike and allow my soul to desire hers in a way that is truly unhealthy.