“Thank you,” I reply, still thinking of Landon. I have no doubt that he has engineered this whole thing because he thinks he can use it to get me into his bed, but I’m determined to disappoint him.
On the sixty-second floor, the elevator doors slide open, revealing a spacious reception room with a large marble desk and a TV screen overlooking a plush seating area. I step outside the elevator a second before an almost invisible glass partition between the elevator bank and the r
eception area slides open, allowing me to walk towards the reception desk. There, an immaculately dressed girl with cropped black hair and glasses is waiting for me with a friendly smile.
“Good afternoon, Miss Foster,” she says cheerily.
“Good afternoon,” I reply, waiting as she scans my visitor card. While I wait, another set of glass doors slide open and a sharp looking guy steps into the reception area. He’s about my height, and like the receptionist, he’s perfectly dressed in a trendy looking suit, his short curly hair neatly framing his face.
“Hello,” he starts, extending his hand. “You must be Miss Foster from Gilt. I’m Tony Gillies, Mr. Court’s assistant. We’ll be discussing the logistics for your trip in his office. Please follow me.”
In his office? “Landon… Mr. Court is going to be there?” I ask, suddenly tense.
“Yes,” Tony nods and then starts to walk, giving me no choice but to follow him through the sliding glass doors into a long wide corridor with glass partitioned offices on one side, and conference rooms on the other. At the end of the corridor, there’s another set of glass doors that lead into a large office with two desks and a sitting area. One of the desks is occupied by a woman speaking into a set of headphones in a language that sounds like Italian. I can’t say for sure, because I’m totally hopeless at any language that’s not English. She doesn’t look up when we enter.
“Please take a seat,” Tony says, the picture of formal efficiency. He glances at his watch. “Mr. Court is in a meeting at the moment, but it will be over in a few minutes. Would you like anything to drink?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He nods, then retreats behind the second desk in the room. As I wait, I use the time to look around. On one side of the room, there’s a wall of some sort of frosted glass with a door in the middle. I’m guessing that it’s the door to Landon’s office when it opens and three men pour out of the room beyond, talking quietly among themselves. Through the open doorway, I catch a glimpse of Landon seated at the head of a conference table. He’s looking at some papers on the table, a frown of concentration on his perfect face. I can’t tear my eyes away from him. I would keep on staring, but the doors close, blocking him from my view.
“We can go in now.” Tony is already standing by my side. I also stand, nervously smoothing my skirt. Why am I so anxious? I have nothing to be worried about.
Apart from being in the same room with Landon again.
I follow Tony to the door, waiting as he holds it open for me to walk inside. Immediately, my eyes settle on Landon. He’s now standing beside the conference table, tapping an impatient finger on the glass surface. He’s removed his jacket, which is now hanging off the back of the chair he just vacated. In just his light blue shirt and slim black pants, the strength and fitness of his perfect body is obvious, much too obvious.
I step into the office, and he looks up. His hair is slicked back, making him look even more intense. As his blue eyes land on me, he breaks into a smile. My heart misses a beat at the transformation to his face, and my steps falter.
“Come in Rachel.”
I steady myself and keep on walking. The office is easily larger by far than any I’ve ever been in. Aside from the conference area, there’s a sitting area with comfortable looking leather chairs and a glass coffee table. A large desk sits on a slightly raised area, almost like a dais, with the skyline of Manhattan as a backdrop. There’s a wall covered with screens, which, at the moment, are all tuned to different news channels and financial reports from around the globe.
He has already pulled out a chair, standing behind it as he waits for me to sit. I walk towards him on shaky legs, cursing myself for the uncontrollable effect he has on me. One look and I forget all my resolutions.
Tony busies himself with setting up the projector, oblivious to the tension between Landon and me. I take the offered seat, trembling slightly when Landon’s fingers deliberately brush my shoulders before he returns to his own seat. After a few seconds, Tony joins us at the table and starts up the slide of pictures of the new hotel, showing the stage of refurbishment already accomplished. The décor is a little more light and modern than the New York hotel, with more glass and brighter colors, but whoever the interior designer, they sure knew what they were doing.
Landon doesn’t say a word as Tony goes over the description of the hotel, the facilities being provided, the design firms involved, and what Swanson Court International hopes to achieve with the new hotel. We go into the history of the property. Formerly known as The San Francisco Gold Dust hotel, it was built in the twenties and has been in the Sinclair family for generations. Landon had recently acquired the property from Evans Sinclair, and will reopen it under the name, The Gold Dust, A Swanson Court Hotel.
I take notes, asking questions, making notes of the clarifications, and highlighting areas for further research. Tony has done a great job on the slide, highlighting the extensive and indigenous art collection that’s part of the property, the high class spa, famous chefs, and the celebrity fitness trainer who will be joining the hotel. I have no doubt that for the people who can afford it, it’s going to be worth every penny.
Finally, we get to the end of the slide, and I look away from the screen to find Landon’s eyes on my face.
“Is that all?” he asks. He’s talking to Tony.
“Yes.”
“Thank you. You can leave us now,” he says, “Miss Foster will communicate any requests for additional information or clarification.”
Tony nods and exits the office, leaving me alone with Landon. I avoid looking at him, feeling the tension in the air thicken with each passing second.
I start to get up. “I should be going.”
His hand on my arm stops me. “No, don’t.” He moves his chair from the head of the table to directly beside mine, arranging it so he’s facing me. “We should talk.”
“I know what you’re doing,” I say heatedly. “You engineered this assignment so you can get me to spend time with you.” I glare at him. “Well, guess what, this time you’re not going to get what you want. You’re wasting your time. I’m not going to let you get away with manipulating my job just so you can fuck me.”
His eyes flare at my heated words, but instead of responding, he presses a button on the desk, turning the frosted glass of the office walls even more opaque. “Let’s see,” he starts, “I generously agreed to a request your boss made a long time ago. How’s that manipulating your job?”