Page 29 of Cocky Prince
“Even the engineers?” I ask skeptically.
“Especially the engineers. The Bliss suites are high-tech.” Paul slaps me on the shoulder and saunters out of Bridget’s office.
I watch him leave, then turn back to Bridget, who’s moved behind her computer. “Are they bothering you? Because if they are—”
“Oh no.” Bridget looks up quickly, her expression sincere. “Everything’s fine. Really. They’ve been supportive.” She smiles and stacks the cards the men handed her, tucking them in a plastic box.
Maybe I’m overreacting. I can’t say my actions have been the smartest this afternoon. But that’s just it. They’ve been primitive, instinctual. “Let me know if that ever changes.”
“I’m sure it won’t. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”
Too welcoming. It’s almost as if the entire male workforce knows Bridget is a former stripper.
What do I care if they do?
I make my way back to my office and stop in the doorway. It’s half past four, but I turn and move down the hallway for the exit. I’m not in my right mind. Better to leave early and come back tomorrow with a clear head.
My pace slows as I near Hayden’s office. I consider apologizing for what happened earlier.
But I’ve never been one to look back. No need to start now.
Chapter Thirteen
The following day, Bridget, Paul, William, and I make our way up to the infamous Bliss suites under construction.
The hallway is filled with workers applying finishing touches, the emblems on their T-shirts unfamiliar. “We’re not using Sallee Construction?” I say. “I thought we had an agreement with them.”
Paul pushes open a wide double door. “They were unavailable.”
That doesn’t sound right. Lewis’s construction company has a long-standing relationship with Blue Casino. I make a mental note to give Lewis a call.
The first thing that strikes me as we enter the suite is the sheer size of the space. Just seeing the floor plan didn’t prepare me. The main living area is at least three times the normal size of a luxury suite at Blue.
Modern burnt-red sofas and chairs covered in thick plastic provide seating. The floors are a deep ebony hardwood with plush white area rugs that have been rolled off to the side. A ten-person oblong onyx glass dining table with a white base and acrylic chairs presides over the back of the room. The glass and chrome fixtures are also covered in plastic, the walls made of the same ebony hardwood as the flooring, creating a den-like feel.
There was nothing like Bliss previously at Blue Casino. Only one suite at my father’s Club Tahoe resort comes close in terms of size and luxury, but the presidential room fails where Bliss succeeds in extravagance. And the presidential room at Club Tahoe runs several thousand dollars per night.
There’s something wrong with the Bliss venture. For one, why the secrecy? The Bliss suites are nearly complete, and the casino hasn’t made a single mention of them to the public. The amount of money that went into their construction has to be astronomical. Any company footing that kind of bill would be gearing up promotion.
“What are the suites for?” I say quietly, but Paul’s eyes dart my way, confirming he heard me.
“Bridget,” he says. “Go see Eve. She’ll fill you in on the supplies we’ll need for the bedrooms.”
Bridget nods and walks over to where Eve is talking to a contractor. After a brief greeting, Eve leads Bridget into one of the bedrooms.
“Well?” I say, once the women are out of earshot.
Paul glances at William and tilts his head to the construction manager. William walks over and takes up where Eve left off.
“The Bliss suites are exclusive,” Paul finally says.
I watch the workers, but my attention is on the slick manager who’s been dishing out crumbs of information on a venture I’m beginning to question. “Define exclusive. The suites are massive and well appointed. How do you expect to keep them filled?”
“Each patron that wants in pays a premium for part ownership of the Bliss line of suites. Your family owns Club Tahoe. Think of it as a golf resort membership.”
“Our members pay over a quarter of a million dollars for club and golf access, and then an annual fee on top of that.”
Paul looks over, his gaze sharp. “Precisely.”
