He needed her to understand how serious the situation was at the hotel, how close they all were to being bought up by a huge company and their roles “streamlined” in the name of profit.

Fifteen minutes wasn’t enough to communicate this to her, though, especially when she had her own list of ideas for improvement. As if a week at the hotel was all she needed to figure it out!

Ridiculous. How could she think that she knew better than him? Because she’d hired a consultant?

Chip got back to his office and looked up the consultant, this Mr. Ken Gallon. The guy was clearly a grifter. His résumé read like a list of schemes, jumping from one strangely named company to the next. He used overly flowery language, saying that while employed at a bank he “managed portfolios totaling over fifty million dollars.”

What did that even mean? That the bank had fifty million? That was nothing for a bank. When Chip had worked at an investment bank, he saw hundreds of millions of dollars disappear like it was nothing.

And now the FBI was poking around his hotel. Despite not knowing for certain that it was Claire’s fault that federal agents were there, he was angry enough to assign her the full blame. He huffed around his office, shuttling papers, moving books, and muttering to himself.

In his fury, he knocked an old mug of coffee onto his copy of the financials.

“Well, that’s just great,” he said, mopping up the mess with a paper towel.

So much for his plan for the next year. He tossed the sopping paper towel into the trash and took a seat. “It’ll be a miracle if we even make it a year,” he muttered, turning to his computer.

Chapter Three

After checking the gym, the banquet hall, and the lengths of the first and second floors, Claire was beginning to wonder if perhaps she’d dismissed the prank theory too quickly.

There was no sign of the alleged FBI agents anywhere, and the look on Chip’s face as she walked away was burned into her mind’s eye – the look of disappointment. Or was it disgust?

Claire wasn’t sure, but it was bad. Steve made it sound like Chip was the most important person at the hotel. How was she going to make any of this work without his help?

The elevator let out a ding – a light, metallic sound that Claire couldn’t get enough of – and the doors opened to the third floor. She looked around, seeing no one. The housekeeping cart was parked outside of the Sunset Suite, and Claire decided she’d ask them if they’d seen anyone. If they hadn’t, she’d give up her futile search.