New York right the hell now. Charter a jet, whatever it takes.”
“On it.” Bradley turned to go.
“Keep tracking Kayla’s phone.”
Bradley waved his hand in acknowledgment.
“And find out what hotel Kayla is staying at. Book me a room beside hers. I don’t care if they have to move other guests. Make it happen.” He heard his father’s voice coming out of his mouth and for the first time in Andreas Kostas’s life, realizing a similarity with Greek shipping tycoon Barnabas Georgas didn’t bother him.
If it took acting like an arrogant bastard to handle this situation, then arrogant bastard he would become.
PUSHING HER SUNGLASSES up on her head, Kayla laid her driver’s license down in front of the desk clerk at the hotel on Times Square she’d made reservations at before she’d left Portland. “I know it’s not 3:00 p.m. yet, but I was hoping a room could be found for me.”
She’d booked a single with no frills and didn’t care what floor they put her on. Unlike Andreas, Kayla didn’t care if she got concierge level with turndown service. She just wanted some time in her room to unwind away from other people. She fully intended to turn off her phone too. No interruptions between her and her thoughts.
And maybe even a nap. There was a first time for everything.
The desk clerk typed something, presumably Kayla’s name, into the computer, then straightened her shoulders. “Oh, yes, Miss Jones. Your room is available immediately if you like.”
“That’s great.” After her conversation with Andreas, she was feeling drained. The cross-continental flight hadn’t helped either.
The young woman waved at the concierge and suddenly there was a bellhop there ready to take Kayla’s bag.
“Oh, I can get that.”
“Let me, Miss Jones, please,” the smartly dressed man who looked more like an extra in a mob movie than a bellhop said.
Kayla shrugged. She wasn’t sure what it was about her pale melon wrap skirt and gray tank under a dark melon hi-lo knit jacket that said “wealthy lady who needs help” to the bellhop. Her comfy travel sandals weren’t even from the designer side of her closet, but Kayla wasn’t going to argue about it.
She just hoped she had appropriate cash in her Michael Kors backpack for the tip.
When the bellhop used Kayla’s key to access the upper floor of the hotel, she got an inkling that he wasn’t taking her to the original room she’d booked herself. When they got off on the top floor, she was sure of it. The smell of roses when she entered a spacious sitting area of what was obviously a superluxurious two-bedroom suite had Kayla cursing Andreas’s name.
The bastard. He’d had Bradley change her reservations. Of course he had. The Greek tycoon was a control freak of the highest magnitude. And he was on his way to New York. Of course he was. Obviously, he intended to stay in the beautifully decorated suite with Kayla.
Andreas wouldn’t see any problem with that. He hadn’t been carrying a torch for Kayla for six long, interminable years.
She shouldn’t be surprised. She really shouldn’t. This was just like something the overbearing Greek tycoon would do.
Only she was. What did he think he was doing?
He had meetings. Much more important than hers. And a bride to find. And a matchmaker to make happy. And Kayla’s darn business to stay the heck out of!
That last was the most important.
She was here to establish the rest of her life without Andreas Kostas in it. Didn’t he realize that?
Maybe he did.
Cold chills washed down her body.
Maybe he wasn’t as ready to let go of their friendship as she was.
Well, he was going to have to get over that little problem. He’d had a total of eight years, two of which included amazing sex, to figure out that they could be something more. What had the idiot done, though? He’d gone and hired a matchmaker, that was what!
He’d decided to sell Kayla’s home! Her one place she felt safe.
Well, she wasn’t putting up with that. He could go off and get married and have all the business challenges he wanted. Kayla might even come to the wedding, but they were done. Done as business partners. Done as best friends.
Just done.
When the bellhop asked what room to place her bag in, Kayla waved at the one on the left. She didn’t care. What did it matter? This room, no matter how swank, was no more sanctuary than her condo back in Portland. The only sanctuary she had was her office and lab back at KJ Software and she wasn’t going to lose that.
Kayla grabbed her phone out of her bag and tossed it onto the table.
To heck with staying here and waiting for Andreas to show up. She was going out.
She looked down at herself. Right. First stop, the Garment District. Shopping cured a lot of frustration. At least it did when you had money, and ever since she’d started working for KJ Software, Kayla’s bank account had never been empty like back in the days when she’d been alone in the world without the company.
She was in a small start-up designer’s boutique, trying on a dress that hugged her curves in a way that would require another layer. Maybe a jacket? A long vest? But it was her signature color. The perfect shade of melon in a ruched silk that made Kayla’s breasts look a cup size larger and her bottom look like it was padded.
She turned to get another angle from the three-way mirror when a sound of masculine appreciation came from her left.
“Very nice.”
She spun to face a blond who looked vaguely familiar. “Thank you, but I think it needs a long vest.”
“To hide that gorgeous body? I don’t think so.” Blue eyes tracked her with heated approval that managed to feel like a compliment and not something smarmy.
Still, she rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to pick me up?”
He laughed, the sound genuine and amused. “I haven’t noticed anyone giving you the attention you deserve.”
“You’re saying you noticed I’m alone.”
“Yes.”
“A woman can shop alone.”
“Could you please tell my sister that? She insists not.”
A young woman who also looked familiar in that way people do who could be celebrity doppelgängers said, “You like shopping.”
“In
