By the middle of July, Anthony Leone had somehow become part of her routine.
Not intentionally.
He simply seemed to appear wherever she happened to be—the lobby, the restaurant, conference rooms, hallways. Sometimes she suspected he spent more time walking through the hotel than sitting in an office.
Not that she cared.
Obviously.
At least that was what she told herself.
The fact that she could usually predict where he'd be meant absolutely nothing.
Nothing at all.
Wednesday afternoon brought a rare gift.
A quiet hour.
The hotel wasn't empty.
La Paloma was never empty.
But for the first time all week, Reina found herself with a genuine lunch break and nowhere she urgently needed to be.
She carried her food to an unused employee lounge overlooking part of the courtyard.
The ro
