Chapter 1
He slapped me across the face for reminding him of one hotel rule—then kicked me to the floor and laughed that “people like you have no power.” He stopped laughing when my father walked through the lobby doors.
I had been working the evening shift at a luxury hotel in Chicago when Ryan Caldwell arrived with three friends.
They were loud before they even reached the front desk.
Ryan tossed his car keys onto the counter and said, “Have someone park it. And make it quick.”
I politely explained that outside alcohol wasn’t allowed in the rooftop event area because of the hotel’s liquor license.
His smile disappeared.
“Do you know how much my family spends here?”
“I understand, sir, but the rule applies to every guest.”
His friends started laughing.
Ryan leaned closer until I could smell the whiskey on his breath.
“You’re a receptionist.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
That sentence seemed to make him furious.
He grabbed the bottle from his friend and tried to walk toward the elevators.
I stepped away from the desk.
“Sir, I can’t allow you upstairs with that.”
Ryan turned around slowly.
The lobby suddenly went quiet.
“You can’t allow me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He slapped me so hard my headset flew across the marble floor.
Someone screamed.
I stumbled backward, too shocked to speak.
My manager, Kevin, rushed out of his office but froze when he recognized Ryan.
“Mr. Caldwell,” Kevin said nervously, “I’m sure we can handle this privately.”
I looked at him in disbelief.
Ryan pointed at me.
“Fire her.”
Kevin lowered his voice. “Emily, apologize to the guest.”
My face was still burning.
“For what?”
Ryan laughed.
“For forgetting your place.”
When I refused to apologize, he shoved me.
I fell against a luggage cart, and before I could stand, he kicked my leg and sent me back onto the floor.
His friends stared, but none of them helped.
Ryan looked down at me and said, “People like you always think rules give you power.”
Then the hotel’s front doors opened.
Every security guard in the lobby suddenly straightened.
Kevin’s face went completely white.
A gray-haired man in a dark suit walked toward us with two executives behind him.
I slowly pushed myself up from the floor.
Ryan glanced at the man and smirked. “Who’s this supposed to be?”
The man didn’t look at Ryan.
He looked at the red mark across my cheek.
Then he looked at Kevin.
His voice was terrifyingly calm.
“Why is my daughter on the floor?”
Ryan’s smile vanished.
Kevin whispered, “Mr. Bennett…”
My father turned toward Ryan, and one of the executives beside him quietly said, “Sir, that’s the son of the family trying to buy this hotel.”
May you like
Dad stared at Ryan for several long seconds.
Then he reached into his jacket, placed a signed folder on the front desk, and said, “Not anymore.”
