soon as anyone found out who her father was, they ran in the opposite direction. And good riddance to them. It’s why she’d worked so hard to get where she’d gotten in her career. Halston, Grant and Ives had hired her knowing who her father was, and she’d spent the first few years knowing they were watching her every move. But she’d proved to all of them that she wasn’t her father, and that she could work hard and be trusted. Now the nameplate on their building said Halston, Grant, Ives and Carson.
In her opinion, her client’s fiancée should have ripped up that prenup, shoved it down her client’s throat and slammed the door behind her. She should have gone back to school (the girl was barely twenty-one years old) or gotten a job somewhere instead of making it her life’s goal to be a starter trophy wife, only to be recycled for something better later on. But her client had smoothed over his fiancées hurt feelings with a new diamond bracelet and an added hundred thousand dollars a year of spousal support if they ever separated. That had been enough for her, and by tomorrow afternoon, they’d be husband and wife. God help them both.
Kate tipped the bartender generously and drank her second glass of wine, enjoying the warmth that filled her body and the way her tense muscles relaxed one by one. Now all she had to do was let the hotel know she’d be extending her stay and she could slip back up to her room and take a nice long bath and get some more work done. She’d have to make the dreaded phone call to her family as well and let them know she wouldn’t be home for Christmas. Her mother was going to have an apoplexy. No one missed Christmas dinner at the Carson’s.
The bar was full, and the low buzz of conversation swirled around her as she got up to leave. She hadn’t noticed how many people had come in as she’d been dealing with her little crisis, but she had to weave around tables crammed with businessmen and women—who never managed to get their briefcases all the way under the table, so it was like walking through an obstacle course—to get back to the lobby. It looked like there were a lot of people going to be stuck in Chicago for the holidays.
Kate’s pencil thin heels clicked against the marble in the lobby as she made her way to the front desk. The Worth Hotel was one of the most exclusive in downtown Chicago. The rooms were decadent and had everything a person could ever want, and the staff…the staff was beyond compare. They were so incredible that she made it a point to stay in a Worth Hotel every time she travelled. Because she did so much business in Chicago, the staff knew her by name and made it a point to put her in the same room each time she came. They also stocked the room with her favorite wine, cold diet Cokes and the English toffee she often craved.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Carson.”
“Hello, Marco,” she said, greeting the hotel manager with a smile as she made her way to the front counter.
“Are you ready to check out?” he asked. He reached for the phone and said, “I’ll have a bellman collect your bags from your room.”
“That won’t be necessary. It looks like I’m going to be staying with you a while longer. My flight’s been cancelled because of the storm.”
Marco was always the epitome of discretion, and she knew something was wrong when he kept his face carefully blank and leaned forward slightly so his voice didn’t carry.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Carson, but you’ll need to check out of your room. We have another guest who already has reservations.”
Kate let out a breath and smiled reassuringly at Marco. He was obviously waiting for her to berate him for not having her room available. She understood things happened, and after all, none of this was Marco’s fault.
“That’s not a problem, Marco. Just put me in whatever you have available. And if you’d please call to have a bellman transfer my luggage, I’d be grateful.”
“No, Ms.
In her opinion, her client’s fiancée should have ripped up that prenup, shoved it down her client’s throat and slammed the door behind her. She should have gone back to school (the girl was barely twenty-one years old) or gotten a job somewhere instead of making it her life’s goal to be a starter trophy wife, only to be recycled for something better later on. But her client had smoothed over his fiancées hurt feelings with a new diamond bracelet and an added hundred thousand dollars a year of spousal support if they ever separated. That had been enough for her, and by tomorrow afternoon, they’d be husband and wife. God help them both.
Kate tipped the bartender generously and drank her second glass of wine, enjoying the warmth that filled her body and the way her tense muscles relaxed one by one. Now all she had to do was let the hotel know she’d be extending her stay and she could slip back up to her room and take a nice long bath and get some more work done. She’d have to make the dreaded phone call to her family as well and let them know she wouldn’t be home for Christmas. Her mother was going to have an apoplexy. No one missed Christmas dinner at the Carson’s.
The bar was full, and the low buzz of conversation swirled around her as she got up to leave. She hadn’t noticed how many people had come in as she’d been dealing with her little crisis, but she had to weave around tables crammed with businessmen and women—who never managed to get their briefcases all the way under the table, so it was like walking through an obstacle course—to get back to the lobby. It looked like there were a lot of people going to be stuck in Chicago for the holidays.
Kate’s pencil thin heels clicked against the marble in the lobby as she made her way to the front desk. The Worth Hotel was one of the most exclusive in downtown Chicago. The rooms were decadent and had everything a person could ever want, and the staff…the staff was beyond compare. They were so incredible that she made it a point to stay in a Worth Hotel every time she travelled. Because she did so much business in Chicago, the staff knew her by name and made it a point to put her in the same room each time she came. They also stocked the room with her favorite wine, cold diet Cokes and the English toffee she often craved.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Carson.”
“Hello, Marco,” she said, greeting the hotel manager with a smile as she made her way to the front counter.
“Are you ready to check out?” he asked. He reached for the phone and said, “I’ll have a bellman collect your bags from your room.”
“That won’t be necessary. It looks like I’m going to be staying with you a while longer. My flight’s been cancelled because of the storm.”
Marco was always the epitome of discretion, and she knew something was wrong when he kept his face carefully blank and leaned forward slightly so his voice didn’t carry.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Carson, but you’ll need to check out of your room. We have another guest who already has reservations.”
Kate let out a breath and smiled reassuringly at Marco. He was obviously waiting for her to berate him for not having her room available. She understood things happened, and after all, none of this was Marco’s fault.
“That’s not a problem, Marco. Just put me in whatever you have available. And if you’d please call to have a bellman transfer my luggage, I’d be grateful.”
“No, Ms.
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