only half joking. “Gotta hand it to you, cuz, you’re the most hands-on guy I know. Guess that’s why you’re kicking butt. You stick your fingers in every pie you deal in, swinging a hammer as easily as you make those slick deals.”
Not quite every pie. Mitch had been doing his damnedest to avoid the sweetie pie that was his ex. Not trusting himself around her, he’d justified his absence by putting Diana in charge of the events projects. And Belle was the Party Princess, after all. She didn’t need his supervision to plan a successful event.
“Seriously, what’s the deal?” Reece, or Cowboy, as Mitch’s cousin and security guru was aptly nicknamed, sounded as concerned as he ever did. Which meant his drawl had slowed and the teasing humor had left his voice.
Mitch listed the resort’s problems-du-jour, from construction to rodent infestation to computer crash. He was explaining about the staff issues when his cousin interrupted.
“Your event gal quit? Just like that? The hot little redhead who loved to party? What happened?”
“She’s in rehab.”
“No shit? What’re you going to do about that opening weekend party you were so hot to have?”
“If I can’t stop this streak of bad luck, there won’t be an opening,” Mitch hedged, not wanting to mention Belle’s involvement in the resort. Since Reece had been his best man, he had a pretty vivid memory of her. “I’m willing to accept a few problems here and there, but not this level of misfortune.”
“Sabotage?”
“That sounds so paranoid.”
“It ain’t paranoia if they’re out to get you,” Reece pointed out.
“Right.”
The two men were silent for a minute, then Mitch heard Reece shuffling some papers. That his bronc-riding cousin was working in an office amused Mitch. A go-getter Kentucky cowboy, Reece was more suited to riding horseback than riding a desk. Rather than putting his military time to use in law enforcement, he’d opened his own security firm.
“Did you get the note I sent you about new requirements for the resort?” Mitch asked.
“Something about catering to the fancy-ass folks there in Hollywood?”
“That’s it. Why don’t you send a guy out early? He can start assessing for the upgrades, and poke around a little at the same time.”
“Two birds with one stone. Good plan.”
They nailed down the details, then hung up. Mitch let his head fall back on the chair, his eyes, as always, going to the view.
Ever since he was a kid, he’d dreamed of a place like this. Oh, not the rich and fancy angle, but of owning something huge, something major. He’d wanted to make his mark, to be special. An only child, he’d been one of seventeen cousins. The last words his dad had spoken to him before he’d died were to tell him to be the man, to take care of his mom and show the world what he was made of. Even at five, Mitch had taken those words to heart.
They’d sparked his desperate need to prove himself. To be important.
Starting out in construction as a teen, he’d worked his way up the ranks in his stepdad’s company by the time he’d entered college. He’d graduated with a degree in business and been left the construction firm when his mom and stepdad had died just before his twenty-third birthday. Like Reece said, he’d worked every aspect of his business, from swinging the hammer to marketing property to making deals. Within five years he’d launched his development company and figured he was well on his way to the big time.
But he’d wanted more. Enter Forsham Hotels and the biggest mistake of his life.
Which reminded him...
Mitch pushed away from his desk and strode into Diana’s office. As soon as she saw him, the mousy brunette held out a sheaf of papers.
“Larry sent these up,” she said.
“Obviously his team hasn’t figured out the problem yet,” he observed, flipping through the pages of techno-speak as if he had a clue what they said. With a shrug, he tossed the report back on Diana’s desk and asked, “Did Belle have a list of suggestions after her tour?”
“Um, not yet.” Diana busied herself with shuffling the tech report, then clipping the pages just so.
“She’s writing it up?”
“No, I don’t think she is.”
Mitch’s earlier irritation, still bubbling away just below the surface, threatened to erupt.
“I suppose there’s a good reason why she hasn’t done what I specifically asked?”
“Well, maybe because she had to cancel,” his assistant mumbled, bending low to put the tech report in the bottom filing-cabinet drawer.
“Why the hell did she