Always and Forever (30 page)

Nobody.

Everybody knew something about Tyler Roth.

Greg Sen. had worked in the first Roth Hotel over twenty years ago. ‘The Manhattan Roth,’ he sighed, when Cleo idly pumped him for information. ‘Now that was a hotel. Al the big stars stayed there. Lunch in the Roth Gril was the hottest ticket in town. Tyler was only a kid then - he was the youngest. From Levi’s second marriage. There were a couple of older sisters, real beauties, little princesses, if you know what I mean.’ Cleo nodded.

‘Daddy gave them everything. One of them made an album and the other one was in model ing, but nothing big time.

They were playing at it, spending Daddy’s money until something better came along. Not like little Tyler.’ Greg Sen. grinned.

‘Sharp as a knife, that kid. If he’s as good as his dad, he’s some operator.’

Wendy, head of housekeeping, was able to volunteer that she knew Levi from years back when she was training, and he was tough but fair. Tyler was the same, or so said an old friend of hers who’d worked in many of the Roth Hotels.

Ruby Jack, the hotel’s bar manager, had worked in the New Orleans Roth.

‘Tyler? Sure I know him.’ He whistled in through his teeth.

‘Bit of a hound for the ladies, our boy. Had two women on the go when I knew him and he was only eighteen.’ ‘Real y?’

Cleo was beginning to like Tyler Roth less and less. He sounded as if he was a smart aleck who thought his father’s riches meant he could speed through life hurting people left, right and centre.

‘They knew about each other, y’know,’ Ruby added. ‘The girls. Didn’t mind, though.’

More bloody women who’d put up with anything for a rich man. Just like Paige. Didn’t modern girls have any sense of personal value?

With so many people knowing the story of Roth because of the group’s very public interest in growing the chain in Ireland, it didn’t take much ingenuity to discover that when Tyler Roth came to Dublin to stay, he stayed in McArthur’s.

Where else? Cleo thought sourly. Wel , she’d be ready for Where else? Cleo thought sourly. Wel , she’d be ready for him. He’d undoubtedly have a room reserved wel in advance and she’d make sure she was there when he arrived. What exactly she was going to do to wreak her revenge, she wasn’t sure. But she’d work on it.

As it proved, she didn’t have to wait long. Word was out that the Roths were interested in a landmark site outside Galway, and the land was being auctioned at the end of the week. Tyler and his team would be in McArthur’s for five days. Al Cleo needed was to swap shifts with someone.

Geena, a wil owy Clare girl who spoke four languages and worked days on reception, had a note up on the notice board begging someone to swap shifts with her so she could have a long weekend with her boyfriend in Paris. That last bit wasn’t in the note, of course. Management frowned upon shift swapping and only in dire need were notes to be stuck up on the board. A family christening was Geena’s official reason. ‘I’l swap with you for that weekend,’ offered Cleo. ‘I need the money.’

‘I’d love that,’ Geena said regretful y, ‘but it won’t work. I’m back on the desk on Tuesday morning, so I can’t do the day shift al week and nights too. Night people can never swap with day people. But it’s real y kind of you to offer.’ ‘No, I don’t want you to cover my shifts,’ Cleo insisted. ‘I’m on time off at the weekend, so I can do your shifts, finish up on Monday evening and be back here on Tuesday night for my shift.’

‘You’l be wrecked,’ said Geena.

‘I can manage it,’ said Cleo. Getting even with Tyler Roth would be worth it.

Tyler Roth arrived in McArthur’s on Friday evening and Cleo was at the reception desk, primed and ready. She wasn’t sure if he’d recognise her. How could he? The incident in Carrickwel had been so fleeting and late at night.

Tyler was accompanied by another man. Did he ever travel on his own, Cleo wondered acidly, or did he always have a minder?

‘Two reservations, name of McKenzie and Roth,’ said the other man, who was nice-looking and tal , but too ordinary and pale beside the dark edginess of Tyler Roth.

Tyler wasn’t looking at the reception desk or Cleo. He was on his mobile phone, not talking, just listening with a peculiar stil ness, as if he was utterly focused on what the person” at the other end was saying.

‘Welcome to McArthur’s,’ Cleo said, doing her best to impersonate Sondra’s sister Tamara’s no-smiling-please-unless-you’re-Brad-Pitt expression. ‘I’l just check your reservations.’

She expertly flicked the touch-pad screen, found their names, gave Mr Larry McKenzie a card to fil in and checked him in on the screen. She left a second card for Tyler on the reception desk.

‘I’l fil this in,’ said Larry, grabbing it.

‘He has to sign it,’ Cleo said. Her grim Tamara-face slipped. She had to smile; it was second nature to her.

Larry gave her an admiring beam in return. That had not been part of the plan, Cleo thought. She knew she’d overdone it on the Irish col een look as she was wearing her tiny gold claddagh earrings and the khaki eyeliner from Mac that brought out the green in her hazel eyes.

Tyler,’ cal ed Larry, seeing that Tyler was putting his phone away.

Tyler Roth swung around smoothly on Italian leather shoes and as his dark eyes met Cleo’s, she thought for a fraction of a second that he was trying to place her, then the moment was gone. He held out his hand to Larry for the pen, just a guy checking into a hotel for business. Why would he remember her? He’d insulted her in her home town in front of witnesses, that was al . Who’d remember that? Cleo burned at the injustice of men.

‘Thanks.’ His handwriting was heavy, with huge peaks and troughs, like a drawing of a mountain range. Cleo had watched a show where handwriting experts had analysed people’s characters on the strength of their signatures.

Heavy with extreme peaks meant egotistical, power-mad ingrates, didn’t it? He held on to the pen for a moment, as if about to put it automatical y in his pocket, then seemed to realise it wasn’t his and put it down. She snatched it back.

Power mad was right. ‘Thank you, Cleo,’ he said, staring quite pointedly at her gold name tag. Cleo was suddenly conscious of the curve of her breasts under the badge.

‘Thank you, Mr Roth. Welcome to Me Arthur’s,’ she said, trying to pul off the difficult trick of smiling and sending out icy-blizzard vibes at the same time.

‘I’m sure we’l enjoy our stay here,’ he said with a knowing look that made Cleo damn sure he remembered her after al . ‘Have our bags sent up to our rooms, please,’ he added. Cleo somehow control ed the impulse to say, ‘Oh, you want them in your rooms? Gee, glad you told me. I’d planned on sending them to the Four Seasons.’ She was pretty sure such smart-assery was a firing offence.

‘No problem, Mr Roth. Enjoy your stay. And you too, Mr McKenzie,’ she added, switching off the blizzard effect and dazzling poor Larry McKenzie with a trademark Cleo-smile at the ful one hundred watts.

If Mr McKenzie was surprised at this rapid change of temperature, he said nothing, although he did glance briefly at Tyler. He was probably used to women acting strangely around his boss, Cleo thought crossly, girls hoping a bit of the Roth magic - and money - might rub off on them. Wel , not this woman. No way. Tyler had met his match here.

She had to wait until the evening before she saw him again.

She was on duty with Eric, who was patiently sorting out an elderly guest who had lost her room key.

Tyler walked through the front door and automatical y looked in Cleo’s direction. She peered down at her screen instantly and had her hotel smile ready when he strode over to her. ‘We meet again,’ he said, dark eyes appraising. His accent was quite neutral, she noticed. Not obviously New York, but the softer accent of someone who’d grown up travel ing al round the world and could slip into the dialects of other countries with ease. That article Paige had read out to her was right too: he did look ruthless. Like he always got his own way. ‘Hel o, Mr Roth. Is there anything I can do for you? Is your room satisfactory? Oh, sorry, your suite? A little sarcasm never went amiss. ‘Everybody loves the penthouse. So much space, big windows. Although it’s a long way down to the ground.’ Her smile was guileless.

‘I’l have to make sure I don’t drink too much and go out onto the balcony, then,’ he said blandly.

Cleo’s air of calm deserted her and her eyes hardened into emerald chips. He had remembered their first meeting. ‘I knew it was you,’ Tyler said, placing one elbow on the desk and leaning in far too closely to her, so she could see the dark shadow on his chin and smel his cologne. He was very disturbing up close. There was too much power and charisma in one package. Cleo moved back instinctively.

She became aware that Eric, who had finished dealing with the elderly lady, was watching the little altercation with interest. ‘I’d recognise those eyes anywhere,’ Tyler went on.

‘What mythical she creature could kil a man with one look?

The Hydra? Medusa?’ ‘Cleo,’ joked Eric.

Cleo shot him a look that, if not guaranteed to kil , would certainly make the recipient need to lie down for a while.

Eric suddenly became very interested in his computer screen. ‘And your smile,’ went on Tyler, ignoring Eric.

‘What smile?’ snapped Cleo, al pretence gone.

‘The one you give when you’re not aware anyone is watching you, when you’re being friendly, instead of Uber-bitch,’ Tyler said silkily. ‘Not the plastic one, the real deal.

How long have you worked in McArthur’s?’ he asked. ‘I’ve stayed here a lot recently, and I’d have noticed you.

Definitely.’

‘The whole hen party/lap dancing thing didn’t work out,’ she said smartly, determined to shock him. ‘Not as much money in it as I’d have liked. And people, men actual y, kept getting the wrong idea about me. It’s funny, when you wear, say, a bunny girl costume, everyone thinks you are easy.

They have no idea what sort of a person you real y are, but they jump to conclusions. Does that sound familiar?’

What was irritating was that Tyler didn’t appear put out by her acid remarks. She was conscious of him looking lazily at her, appraising, admiring.

She was also conscious of Eric listening avidly, and Greg Sen. watching the tableau with interest from the concierge’s desk by the door.

Another guest arrived, thank heavens, and began to discuss a late checkout with Eric.

‘Mr Roth, can I do something to help you?’ Cleo asked, the perfect receptionist again.

‘Have a drink with me?’

‘We’re not al owed to fraternise with the guests,’ Cleo said sweetly. ‘It’s the same in the lap-dancing business. The management take a firm view on such matters.’

‘So you did fraternise with some of the clients in the lap dancing club?’ Tyler asked innocently.

‘Only the very sleazy ones,’ she shot back. ‘The ones who insulted me, in fact. I love men who insult me. It’s real y the way to a girl’s heart, don’t you know?’

‘Ah, I get it,’ he said.

‘Good, because that’s the only thing you’l be getting from me,’ Cleo snapped.

‘I may have jumped to the wrong conclusion back then,’

Tyler said.

‘That’s why you’re a multi-mil ionaire businessman, Mr Roth, is it? It’s nothing to do with being born into a lucrative family business, it’s your unerring ability to shoot first and ask questions afterwards? You know what they say about the word “assume”? It makes an ass out of u and me.’

Eric, stil listening in, was openmouthed - so was the guest he was dealing with - but Cleo no longer cared. ‘If you hadn’t made such a horrible assumption, you would have saved me the humiliation of being insulted by a stranger in my hometown with a fascinated crowd watching!’

‘We’ve got quite a crowd watching here right now,’ Tyler grinned, clearly enjoying himself hugely. ‘Strike out drinks.

Let’s

make it dinner. I’l take you to dinner and make it up to you.

I’m real y sorry.’

‘You should have apologised then and there,’ she said furiously. ‘You made me look like a complete fool. I don’t know whatever backwater you were dragged up in, but in Carrickwel , men don’t hurl insults at women on the streets.

A -‘ She broke off, not wanting the audience to hear a repeat performance of what he’d said. Drunken hen night, indeed. ‘And I don’t do dinner with strange men.’

‘Breakfast? Do you take cream in your coffee?’

It was at that exact moment that Greg Sen. decided to meander over. His progress across the lobby looked aimless, but was actual y as purposeful as a charter plane coming in to land. ‘Oh, Greg,’ said Cleo, the picture of charm itself, ‘the very man I was looking for. Mr Roth has an unusual request, one that neither I nor the rest of the staff can help him with. He wants information on …’ she lowered her voice, ‘a store for men with special needs.’ She lowered her voice even more. ‘For when a man wants to explore his feminine side. With clothes. Ladies’ clothes.’

It was to Greg’s credit that he didn’t blink. Neither did Tyler for that matter.

‘If you’d come over to the desk, Mr Roth, we’l see what we can do,’ said Greg expansively, as if they were off for a macho chat about the merits of Monte Cristo versus Romeo y Julietta cigars.

Tyler gave Cleo one last glance, which she returned with a truly triumphant smile, as if daring him to get her into trouble. ‘It’s a delicate matter,’ Tyler said to Greg. ‘I have a friend arriving and he would be interested in that kind of store.’ ‘A friend,’ nodded Greg. ‘Of course, of course. You’d be amazed at how we can sort out things for friends.’

Cleo’s shift started at seven next morning. She was tired because her sleep had been haunted by disturbing images of herself and

another body - male, muscled, lean, with cropped hair and dark, dark eyes - writhing in a bed. When she woke at four, she couldn’t go back to sleep, and lay there until half-past five, when the alarm screeched at her to get up.

Trish was a lump on the other side of the bed, never stirring when Cleo threw the covers back. Cleo knew she’d have to get her own place soon. She couldn’t go on sharing Trish’s cramped room, although Trish said it was nice to have Cleo there. It was like being kids again on a sleepover, she said.