you don’t have it? When you called the other night, you said—”
Excuses pour down the phone from the incompetent fucker on the other end in response.
“I don’t want to hear it. Just ring me when you have something to tell me!”
I slam the phone down onto the desk and curse. Why is it so fucking hard to find someone who can do their job properly?
There’s a knock at the door.
“Yes!” I snap.
“Mr. Parker?” Harley pokes her head around the door and then opens it fully, stepping inside. “I’ve got some sign offs I need for Friday.”
“Of course, of course.” I hold my hand out and she walks across the room and places a folder in it.
“Are you accompanying Emily again?” she asks as I flick through the pages and sign the necessary ones.
“Yes.” I raise my eyes to hers. “Why?”
Her brows shoot up and she shakes her head. “No reason. Just wondered.” Her smile returns as I close the folder and hand it back to her.
“Oh, and Harley?”
She turns back as she reaches the door.
“Make sure you get the outfits you borrow back to the boutiques on time. Not like the last gala.”
She bites her bottom lip and nods at me. “Of course. Thank you, Mr. Parker.”
I smirk as she closes the door. I may not know the single most important thing about what’s been happening under my nose at the hotel yet. But I’m not stupid. I know enough of what my staff get up to. But sneaky tours of the penthouses for their friends when there aren’t any guests staying in them, and borrowing outfits from the hotel boutiques are the least of my problems. Not when the person who stabbed me in the back is still out there. Unpunished. Or worse, still in here, working for me, waiting for another opportunity to threaten The Songbird.
I will drag them through hell myself before I give them that chance again.
