Page 69 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
My parents’ budget wouldn’t put a dent in a single Prescott Hotel bathroom, but it had been enough for a few buckets of paint. Unintentional as it was, I’d listed everything Emery had done to Reed’s room.
Dark on white. Minimalistic. But she’d added a mural wall, one that could only shine if the entire room had been dulled. Pictures hidden within pictures. Gray shades that blurred together, and each time you looked at it, you saw a different image.
Magic, she’d declared out loud when she unveiled it to us.
I stared Emery directly in the eyes and said, “No murals. This is a Prescott Hotel, not a decrepit building ripe for some Banksy wannabe to paint on. I expect you all to treat this like the billion-dollar hotel chain it is.”
Prescott Hotels had one worthy rival—Black Enterprises’ hotel chain, owned by billionaire entrepreneur Asher Black—and the company hadn’t stepped foot in North Carolina yet. I’d bought up every ideal property along the North Carolina coast, making this state officially mine.
Truthfully, it didn’t matter how the hotel looked. I could rent out a human-sized fishbowl and sell out a year in advance, because these rooms went for two-thousand bucks a night, and people were hardwired to believe money meant value.
Plus, my name was attached to the building in giant letters. Like Asher Black, I’d acquired my seed money through shady means. Unlike Asher Black, the general public regarded me as a saint.
I could do no wrong in their eyes, a privilege I hadn’t earned but used to my full advantage despite the guilt that nagged at me.
“But,” Ida Marie began, stumbling over what words to choose. “If we stick with muted colors without some sort of a focal point, won’t the design be…”
“Boring,” Emery finished for her.
So much fire burned in her eyes, watching her reminded me of feeling alive again.
Chantilly flinched, waiting for me to explode.
My jaw ticked. I checked my watch and loosened its grip on my pulse, feeling hot every time I looked in Emery’s direction. “It’s not my job to design this hotel for you. If you can’t make it work, I can find someone else.”
I realized, as she stared at me like she wanted to kill me, that it wasn’t only irritation I felt. Her defiance turned me on. I set the shitty coffee on the table, pulled a chair out, and sat on it backward so they couldn’t see I was hard as shit behind it.
She and her family fractured yours. When my dick didn’t get the hint, I added, remember when she basically forced herself onto you and roll the hell out of you?
It saluted her as if the idea made it want her more.
“No need to find someone else, Mr. Prescott.” Chantilly shot a glare Emery’s way. It bounced off her like a quarter off Nicki Minaj’s ass. “We’ll make you proud.”
“I’ll see you all when the mockups are complete and ready for my approval. Miss Rhodes,” I emphasized her new last name, “a word.”
“I have somewhere I have to be.”
“It wasn’t a question.”
Chantilly froze first, taking her time to collect her belongings. Cayden left quickly, twisting the car keys to his Civic around his middle finger. Hannah shoved Ida Marie out of the room when she all but shouted to catch Emery’s attention.
Emery and I waited in silence until everyone left and the elevator in the hall dinged. I stood and leaned against the table, my hands gripped around its edge.
“Your hair is black.” It slipped out, a lapse in control I hated myself for.
“I’m well aware, considering it’s my head.”
My eyes scraped a path down her body, cataloging all the similarities and differences. The shirt would have hugged her curves if she had them, but she didn’t. Two hip bones jutted out.
Outside the elevator’s shitty lighting, I could study her better. She looked thinner than I’d ever seen her, borderline fragile and breakable if it weren't for the expression on her face. She looked like the type of girl to brandish her middle finger as a weapon. I knew from personal experience she’d do it while hiding a knife in her other hand. Better to stab you in the back with.
“You’re dressed oddly for a catering gig.” She didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. I continued, “If you’re going to continue working for me, and that’s a big if, you’ll have to learn I don’t tolerate lies,” unless they’re my own, “and respect is demanded. Oh, and do keep your hands out of the proverbial cookie jar. I don’t need the prepubescent offspring of a thief caught working for me, let alone stealing from me.”
“At least I don’t need to pay people to date me.”
“It’s a choice, not a need. Speaking of dates, at least buy me dinner before you mount me next time.”
Her cheeks flushed. “No need to worry. If you recall, the lights were off. Had I known it was you, I would have been looking for a toilet to puke in. I hate you, Nash Prescott, and every time you step into a room I’m in, I’m unsure if I want to vomit or stab you.”
