Say My Name (Stark International Trilogy, #1) (86)
“Why was Trent here? Was the call about the Century City or Bahamas projects?” Those may not be my projects, but I’m hoping to be officially in that department soon, and if there’s something cooking, I want to know about it.
“Oh, no. He didn’t say why he was here, but since he asked me out, I think that was the real reason. And he hung out for the whole call. Even watched my desk when I had to run into the apartment to get some files that Damien left in the kitchen,” she adds, referring to the private residence that covers half of this floor. “After that, we split an entire bottle of wine down at the Biltmore’s bar. And I think that if we both hadn’t needed to get up early, I might still be on a date.”
My smile is genuine. “Good for you.”
“I know, right? It’s been forever since I’ve had s-e-x.” She glances at Jackson as she spells, as if that’s going to somehow keep him from picking up the thread of our conversation.
I’m about to ask her what happened with the last guy she was dating when the intercom buzzes.
“Are they here?”
I frown. Damien’s voice is rarely that tight, and I wonder what morning crisis he’s had to handle with Rachel at the desk rather than me.
“I was just about to send them in,” Rachel says.
As Jackson levers himself off the reception couch, I give Rachel a quick nod, and she pushes the button to open the door.
Damien is standing by the window when we enter, and as the door shuts behind us, he hits a button on the remote he is holding. Immediately, the automatic blinds that cover the wall of windows start to close, shifting the room into dark.
The projection screen begins to descend and a tabloid-style headline splashes onto it:
Sex, Sand & Starkalicious Scandal!
“Would one of you care to tell me what the hell this is?” Damien’s voice is taut to the breaking point.
I look at Jackson, who does not look at me. Instead, he studies the screen where an article is now scrolling beneath the headline, complete with hyperlinks to other LA Scandal website articles.
Damien Stark—whose place in the scandal firmament was assured by both his recent murder trial (the charges of which were dismissed—the scandalous Stark was not acquitted!) and the sexilicious deal he made with his now-wife Nikki Fairchild (more here)—just might be at it again!
Has he opened up his problem-plagued, not-yet-operational resort on the recently purchased Santa Cortez island to investors for use as their own private playground? A secret hideaway for illicit affairs? Take a look at this footage of scandal-magnet Dallas Sykes and “friend” Melissa Baronne and draw your own conclusions. We can guess what Ms. Baronne’s husband is thinking!
“Oh my god,” I say, as a looped image of Sykes in a lip-lock with a twenty-something bombshell starts to play. “How—”
“A very good question,” Damien says, his dual-colored eyes reflecting the tight grip he is keeping on control. His attention is laser-locked on Jackson. “We don’t even have plans from you, Mr. Steele, and we already have scandal. Not only does this play against the family resort atmosphere we’re aiming for, but this company now has a part in putting out gossip about one of our key investors. Not to mention a man with whom I’m currently in other negotiations.”
“Is that an accusation, Stark?” Jackson asks.
“There were a limited number of people at my house on Sunday when Nikki mentioned Sykes and his girlfriend.”
“Unless those cameras were designed during the Dark Ages, the images are sent digitally from the source to your security department. Probably also simultaneously copied to your server and backup server.” Jackson’s voice is as sharp and precise as a scalpel. As for me, I’m feeling rather sick.
“You have an oversight division that surely goes over incoming footage,” he continues. “And I’d bet money that reviewing the incoming feed from the island is the responsibility of at least one desk security guard. If you’re not going to monitor activity around all that expensive equipment, then why have the system in place at all?”
He looks around the room as if searching for something. “I wasn’t the only one at your party, Mr. Stark. And there’ve been a lot of eyes on that image,” he says. “And yet I’m the only one in here getting my ass bitten off.”
“And if I learn that any of those folks are displeased about a past business arrangement, I’ll be sure to call them in,” Damien says as he aims the remote and continues to scroll through the article.
I read the words that pop up and feel even more queasy.
Perhaps conflict with starchitect—or should we say “Starkitect”—Jackson Steele is adding some stress to the mix over at Stark International. Our scandal scouts say that Steele is the newest addition to The Resort at Cortez team, but that Steele is no fan of Damien Stark. Just a few months ago, Steele announced that he had no interest in working on a Stark International project. So what could have un-hardened a heart made of Steele? We smell scandal!
“Care to explain?”
“I said that to your wife several months ago,” Jackson says mildly. “And repeated it to you. What someone who overheard us prints or tells a reporter isn’t something I can control.”
“Are you unhappy about what happened in Atlanta, Mr. Steele?”