Acquisition Complete
794 Words
POV: Eli
"It's done," Pam said through the other line.
She'd waited until noon to call Eli because she knew he'd had a late night the previous night.
She hadn't seen him since Thursday afternoon when he asked her to purchase Fiordillatte. And she hadn't spoken to him since he called her up that night and ordered her to expedite the transaction with the Italian bistro.
"Very well," he answered in a croaky voice. He'd been up for a couple of hours but he felt lethargic, so he decided to stay in bed. "When will the renovation start? I want it done as soon as possible. I will not have that shithole become a money pit."
"I've already arranged for the contractors to start the makeover after the restaurant closes tonight. The former owners requested that we hire their contractors, which were cheaper than what we usually pay, so I said okay. It's okay, right?"
Pam asked carefully. Eli didn't like to be bypassed, especially when it came to company decisions. But since the restaurant wasn't a major deal, she didn't think he'd care.
"I don't care. As long as they finish the renovation before the opening, then it's fine by me," Eli replied.
"It'll be ready on Wednesday for the reopening party. Shall I start sending out invitations?"
"Yes. I want a grand opening. I have faith in your impeccable taste. Make it look classy. And add a piano bar, too," Eli instructed.
"Will I see you tonight?" Pam asked cautiously.
"I'll meet you later. Let's have dinner at the Venetian. Make the reservations at AquaKnox at eight. I want to see the designs you picked. That'll be all, Pam."
Eli didn't wait for her reply as he disconnected the line. Pam was used to his telephone manners, or the lack thereof, so she wasn't put out with his rude demeanor.
Eli jumped off the bed and drew the curtains to let the light through in his suite.
The night he'd waited for her outside her apartment, he was so enraged that he went straight to the exclusive burlesque club downtown to distract himself.
After half an hour of mindless show, not to mention the constant gawking of the women in the club, he decided the place wasn't worth his time. He drove back to the Obsidian Ace and went to the casino and then later to the bar.
But nothing and no one seemed to hold his attention for more than a few minutes.
He called for another room service and asked for a redhead or a brunette. Anything but blonde.
The foxy redhead he slept with was downright magnificent, but he couldn't find his release with her.
He tried a stunning brunette, but nothing could stop his mind from wandering back to a certain blonde. Three billion women in the world and he couldn't take his mind off the one person who hadn't said a single nice thing to him since they met.
Even her seemingly permanent scowl or her apathetic eyes were more endearing compared to the dazzling women who were throwing themselves at him.
Two hours later, he went back to his suite, sorely disappointed.
He downed his frustrations with a bottle of whiskey, which he regretted instantly when he woke up the next day with a massive hangover.
Eli didn't get out of his room until it was completely dark. He managed to avoid Pam as he made his usual route to the security area and casino floor. He told Jimmy to tell Pam not to disturb him for the rest of the night because he would be going to his other two hotels.
That was a lie.
He got out of the security floor and stealthily went upstairs using the service elevator that he knew Jimmy wouldn't be monitoring closely. He went back to his suite and chugged down half a bottle of scotch.
When he woke up with yet another killer migraine, he took a couple of aspirin and downed a bottle of Gatorade then came back to bed, fully intent on staying in until the sun went down.
But after Pam's very pleasing news, Eli felt invigorated.
He stretched out his long limbs before he hopped into the shower. He dialed room service and, for the first time in two days, he ordered a real meal.
As the hot water cascaded over him, Eli couldn't help the satisfied smirk that crossed his face.
Fiordillatte was his.
Which meant she was his, too. Contractually bound for the next two years.
She couldn't run. She couldn't hide. She couldn't tell him to f**k off and walk away.
The Ghost had made his move.
And in three days, Brigail Havens would find out exactly who owned her now.
- Writer
