Wicked Billionaire - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,4

form a polite reply.

Finally, he takes the cup out of my hand. I immediately move to the far side of the kitchen to wipe down the counters. Blackwood moves to the espresso machine and brews another cup, but I refuse to look his way. It’s with relief that he takes his brewed cup and moves back into the living room, supposedly on his way back to his bedroom to put on some damn clothes.

I finish scouring down the counters, sink, and stovetop, then wipe the fronts of the cabinets and fridge. Just as I’m finishing, I hear Blackwood on his phone, voice coming from the direction of the living room. I move to the left, enough to see inside, and oh my God… he’s still in a towel, but now sitting on the couch.

And when I say sitting, I actually mean sprawling.

Long, muscular legs stretched out and slightly spread, not enough I can see under that towel, but enough to spot a dark shadow between his legs. If he were to spread them any farther, he’d give me a show. He has one arm casually draped over the back cushions, the other holding his phone before his face.

He has it on speaker, and I recognize the voice of a young woman I’ve heard him converse with before. It’s one of his employees in the executive office.

Just great.

I’m at the point I’m ready to vacuum the living room floors, but I clearly can’t do that while he’s talking on speakerphone. With a sigh, I move my cart back into the living room, unhooking the vacuum from its slot on the side. Because I have other duties to attend to after his suite, I hope my display makes him realize he’s preventing me from doing my duties. Blackwood doesn’t spare me a glance, though.

Dicklan.

Like a dolt, I hover, wondering if I should interrupt him. I’m hesitant to do so because, well… I need this job.

Blackwood issues orders so quickly I feel bad for the woman if she’s taking handwritten notes.

When he finishes, he says, “Is there anything else we need to discuss before my next call?”

After a slight hesitation, the woman finally says, “Um… there is, actually.”

“Make it quick,” Blackwood orders.

“The fundraiser for the Canterbury Art Center this weekend,” she starts. I’m not sure if he hears it in her voice, but I do. She’s terrified to say what she needs to.

Obviously, he has no empathy because he snaps, “Well… what about it?”

“The venue is too small to accommodate all the people who have RSVP’d,” she mumbles.

I’m surprised Blackwood actually allows emotion on his face, but surprise and fury emanate from him. “Let me get this straight… The venue I had you book over two months ago—for a specific number of people—is too small to handle the guests? Why in the hell are you just now telling me this, three days before the event?”

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she says. While I can’t see the woman, I guarantee she’s quivering. I can hear it in her voice. “But you specifically requested this venue. And, um, well, I didn’t want to go against you.”

“Fucking great,” Blackwood snaps. “My goddamn assistant can’t manage to think for herself or have an original idea in her air-filled head. Once you realized the problem, did it ever occur to you to bring it to my attention in enough fucking time for me to handle it, since you clearly couldn’t be bothered to do so?”

Ouch. I feel sorry for the woman. She did fuck up, but I suspect Dicklan is such a dick to work for that she was afraid to say anything. Still, she should have pointed it out well before now. He would be pissed, but he’d have had the time to do something about it. Cringing, I wait, already suspecting what he’ll say next.

Declan Blackwood doesn’t disappoint. “Your services are no longer needed at Blackwood Hotels and Resorts. Pack up immediately.”

Without another word, he disconnects the phone. He taps it against his chin, apparently deep in thought. Aloud, he murmurs, “Just where in the hell am I supposed to find a venue in Vegas for a hundred and fifty people with only three days’ notice?”

I have no clue what this fundraiser is for. What I do know is I like Declan Blackwood even less now than I did before that phone call. That was extremely harsh, even if the woman had clearly screwed up.

To my great surprise, I start to speak, though I don’t know why