for his distant investors’ use, but Olivia hadn’t given much thought over the years to either those unknown investors or those suites. Those lavish, empty rooms were just doors she passed without noticing on her way to her own comfy rooms beneath the eaves at the far end of the hallway.
A resounding crash interrupted her musings.
Olivia looked up, saw what appeared to be a shattered vase of flowers lying in smithereens on the hall floor and hastened forward. As she did, someone backed out of one of the suites.
Annie. Olivia’s best friend stumbled backward, both arms held up in a defensive posture of appeasement. Her gaze stayed fixed on someone in the suite she was exiting. Her upswept blond hair was disheveled, her uniform’s apron askew, and as Annie glanced down at the broken glass, crumpled flowers and spilled water at her feet, Olivia discerned that she was crying, too.
“I said I didn’t want to be disturbed!” came that male voice again, its gravely ire twice as loud now. “Ever!”
“I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that I...” Obviously at a loss to cope with the situation, Annie hesitated. “I was told to pay special attention to your room while you’re here, Mr.—”
“Stop staring at me.”
The sudden hush in that unknown guest’s voice was twice as chilling as his outright shouting had been. Feeling gooseflesh prickle on her arms, Olivia hurried forward to help her friend.
“I wasn’t staring!” Annie protested, but a telltale redness stained her cheeks and made a lie of her words. So did the way she kept on staring, unblinking. “I only wanted to bring you—”
The suite’s door slammed shut, cutting off her words.
Booted footsteps stomped across the floorboards and then fell silent, muffled by wallboards and distance and the outraged pounding of Olivia’s heart as she contemplated the scene.
She had not been raised by her compassionate, fair-minded father to stand by while someone else behaved unkindly! Swiftly, Olivia charged forward, ready to do battle...
Only to reconsider as she caught closer sight of Annie. Her friend stared despairingly at the sodden flowers and broken vase at her feet. Her slumped shoulders and downturned mouth reminded Olivia that comforting her friend was more important than confronting a quarrelsome guest, however significant he might be to her father’s business interests. She could deal with Mr. Fancypants’s harrying behavior later. She would, too....
With a sigh, Annie dropped to the floor, plainly intent on cleaning up the mess their guest had made.
Oh, no. Not if Olivia arrived there first. She knelt, then began plunking glass shards into the single largest piece.
“Olivia!” At the sight of her, Annie burst into fresh tears. Looking annoyed, she dashed her palms over her eyes. “Why must I cry when I’m most angry?” she wailed. “I want to bash that rude beast with the remnants of this vase, not bawl over him! That man is the most horrible, the most domineering—”
“Don’t trouble yourself. I do the same thing.” Olivia gave Annie a comforting smile. She paused in her cleanup work long enough to squeeze her friend’s shoulder. “We’re women. We can’t help that the only acceptable means of expression available to us are crying, swooning and embroidering toss pillows.”
“Well, sometimes those pillows are very inspiring,” Annie said, brightening as they cleaned. “Pithy, but rousing.”
The suite’s door swung abruptly open, startling them both.
A huge figure appeared in the doorway. He towered over them, wearing black clothes, black boots and a broad-brimmed black hat, somehow appearing both wild and noble at the same time. The mingled scents of whiskey and tobacco smoke emanated from him, as though he’d passed the predawn hours drinking, smoking and contemplating which vase to throw next from his room. Looking up at him, Olivia had a confused impression of costly masculine suit fabrics, uncompromising authority, and unexpected...vulnerability?...before he unleashed another barrage.
He hurled something else. This time a covered tray of food. It clattered to the hallway floor in a fury of silver and cutlery and cold scrambled eggs. Then he glowered down at them.
“I heard you.” His gaze raked across them. “In my hotel, there will be no gossiping about me right under my nose!”
Olivia couldn’t move. She felt...mesmerized. Helpless. Also, vexed by her own peculiar reaction. She didn’t understand it.
What had he meant by my hotel? This wasn’t his hotel.
During the shocked silence that fell, Annie cast a fearful glance at the man’s face. A helpless chortle burst from her.
Olivia would have sworn it grew fifteen degrees warmer in the hotel hallway. The wrath emanating from their guest felt palpable. And dangerous. Making matters worse, Olivia couldn’t help staring at him, too, just like Annie was doing.
Because all at once, it was beyond obvious why Annie had felt compelled to laugh at this man’s terrible choice of words.
There will be no gossiping about me right under my nose!
His nose was, quite simply, huge and hooked and startlingly prominent. Olivia had never seen its like. She doubted anyone ever had. As she cast him a wary glance, she suddenly believed he’d chosen those words on purpose. He’d known full well their likely effect on Annie. As tests went, his was...casually cruel.
Realizing her mistake, Annie widened her eyes. Too late.
“I’ll see you dismissed for that,” he promised in the same eerily quiet voice he’d employed earlier. He didn’t so much as glance in Olivia’s direction. He simply slammed the door.
Left alone in the increasingly sloppy hallway, crouched awkwardly beside puddled water and scrambled eggs, Olivia and Annie frowned at each other. Annie’s lower lip began trembling. Her hands shook. A tear dropped on the teacup she picked up.
“Annie.” Olivia touched her arm. “My father won’t think of dismissing you. He won’t! He knows you need this job, and we need you, too! Without you, The Lorndorff won’t keep running.”
“No, Olivia. Even you can’t fix this.” Annie dried her tears on her sleeve, then kept on cleaning. “I laughed outright at a guest of the hotel! Mr. Mouton would be right to fire me.”
“Impossible. I won’t have it.” Decisively, Olivia stood.
So did Annie. “Oh, no! I recognize that impetuous look in your eyes.” She tugged on Olivia’s sleeve. “Please, Olivia! Don’t do anything crazy. Not on my account. I know how impulsive you can be. I know how you love a good fight, too. Remember that medicine-show man? You practically tarred and feathered him in the town square. The last thing we need—”
“Is a no-account cad making trouble for our staff,” Olivia concluded resolutely. She straightened her skirts and her posture, then rapped firmly on the suite’s door. “I’ll handle this.” She cast a sidelong glance at her friend. “Besides, that girl who lambasted that peddler all those years ago is long gone. My father told me that’s when he knew I’d been spending too much time at The Lorndorff, socializing with miners and miscreants and lumbermen. He knew he’d been remiss in letting me do so. Since
