When Empires Fall (12 page)

Grant had no such soft side, especially not in regards to his good-for-nothing father. Ergo, he would be seeing to
this
particular issue himself.

When he rose to his feet to get his coat and scarf, his stomach grumbled disagreeably and he frowned down at it. He thought briefly about grabbing the day old tuna sandwich in the mini fridge, but decided against it, knowing he didn’t really have time. The lawyer had another meeting coming up that afternoon, and could only spare a half hour to go over the documents.

Slipping his coat on loosely and swinging his royal blue scarf over his neck, he grabbed his briefcase and swept out of the office, shutting the door promptly behind him and locking it. When he turned around, he spotted Quinn typing away dutifully at her computer, a Tupperware container at her side filled with something that was freshly steaming.

She glanced up at him with a polite smile, but his eyes were on that container, his empty stomach lurching in desperation. Whatever it was, the smell of it was simply
incredible
.

“Heading out?” Quinn asked, sitting back in her chair and watching him with an amused expression.

“Yeah, out,” Grant replied, shifting his weight as he forced his eyes off of the food. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Okay.” Quinn’s lips curved into a devious grin as she reached for the spare plastic fork she kept in her lunch bag, waving it at him suggestively. “You sure you don’t want to try some pasta real quick before you go?”

His first instinct, naturally, was to say no. But sometimes, well, in his case, the rarest of times, desires and needs can overtake even the most cautious and controlled of men.

Without a word, he stepped forward and accepted the fork from her, dipping it into the pasta and piercing a couple pieces of penne, scooping it carefully into his mouth. He handed the fork back to her, ignoring her enormous grin, and chewed.

The fact that it was quite possibly the best pasta he’d ever tasted still wasn’t enough for him to dance for joy or anything, but he certainly couldn’t hide the surprise from his expression. He definitely hadn’t expected her cooking to be
that
good.

“Well?” Quinn asked, beaming up at him indulgently.

Grant swallowed, his mouth quirking ever so very slightly as he considered. When he spoke, he oddly found he had to fight to keep the enjoyment from his voice.

“Good.” With a curt nod, he strode out of the office alcove and disappeared into one of the elevators, leaving Quinn feeling more than a little smug.

Maybe his comment about her cooking hadn’t been very eloquent, very thorough or praising. But she’d be a damn fool to not admit that that one little word accompanied by the honest look of surprise coming from a man like him was quite possibly the best compliment any chef could ever hope to receive.

Perhaps chefdom wasn’t so far off, after all.

She’d worn her
favorite red suede pumps out of pure female territorialism. Sure, it may have been petty when done by
some
women, but Madison knew herself to be beyond such criticism. Besides, she was just very protective of her brothers, especially Grant, and felt it was only her sisterly duty to look out for catty and dangerous women looking to cash in on the weaknesses of a ridiculously wealthy man. They existed, that much she knew, even from her own experience. Who said men couldn’t be gold diggers, too?

So she’d put on the shoes to make a statement, along with the slender black pencil skirt and blood red silk blouse with sleeves that barely covered her shoulders. With it she wore an engraved gold locket that had belonged to her grandmother on her father’s side, a sign of her bloodline and a respect to those who had borne her.

And while it had been a bitch that morning to tread carefully over the slick snow covered sidewalk in four-inch heels and not trip, she’d managed just fine. A real woman could make such an outfit work, even in the dead of winter.

“Carrie, what are my appointments for the rest of the day?” Madison quickly signed off on a few invoices at the front desk, then turned briskly to her assistant, who was standing at the ready beside her.

Carrie, a petite brunette with sharp brown eyes covered by chic black-rimmed glasses, nodded with a polite smile, the appointment calendar already pulled up on her tablet computer. Madison, she knew, put up with nothing less than complete focus, attention and preparedness.

“At one o’clock you have the restaurant staff meeting, followed immediately by final prep for the Lowell Society luncheon at one thirty.” The two started towards the elevators as Madison glanced briefly at the slim, gold designer watch at her wrist. “Three o’clock, your mother is coming in to discuss wine and dessert selection for the breast cancer fundraiser, and then at four o’clock you have an appointment for a mani/pedi here at the spa.”

They stepped into one of the elevators, held open by a guest who had just vacated it. Madison glared at her own reflection in the elevator doors as they slid shut, pursing her lips in annoyance. This fundraiser was starting to get on her nerves, and it was taking up way more time than it deserved. But when her mother was involved, it was to be expected. “I want you to shuffle my salon appointment to tomorrow, I’m going to need more than one hour with my mother.”

“Will do.” Carrie jotted down a notation on the tablet, her fingers sliding over the touch screen expertly.

The elevator rose silently and Madison continued to eye her own reflection, reaching up to fix a stray strand of dark hair. Image was everything, she knew, especially if one intended to get a very specific, very clear message across. And oh, did she ever.

Beside her, Carrie busily updated the schedule and then stood quietly, knowing that small talk just wasn’t acceptable. Madison Vasser was all business and a hard woman to work for. But she wasn’t unfair, nor was she cruel. She was just…honest. And Carrie, being a driven young woman herself, had been a perfect fit for her position the moment she had started two years earlier. It had been then that she had learned that with Madison, undying loyalty and a sharp mind were everything, and those who stayed true were rewarded greatly. Again, Madison was the furthest thing from unfair. You had to earn your place at her side, but once you had, it was well worth it.

When the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open, Madison led the way out into the waiting area, her eyes immediately honing in on Grant’s office and the glass walled alcove that held his new secretary. She kept her eyes on the woman as she approached, making her assessments quickly and silently with Carrie at her heels.

Quinn glanced up at the two women who approached, and she found herself blinking once in stunned surprise. She set her fork down and pushed aside her lunch, rising to her feet dully.

The woman’s resemblance to Grant was startling; incredible, really. She had the same rich brown hair, lightly curled at the ends, with intense amber eyes that were slightly lighter in color than his. But the bone structure and the serious, unreadable expression were undeniably the same, and Quinn found herself feeling more than a little awkward under the woman’s stern and very direct gaze. Somehow it was deeper, and more intimidating than Grant’s had been, as if this woman could recognize every hidden secret within a person by simply meeting eyes. It was incredibly unnerving, to say the least, to feel so examined, judged, criticized, in a way that was much more obvious than Grant’s quiet assessing had been.

Swallowing her discomfort, Quinn determinedly held the woman’s gaze.

“Hello.” She attempted a smile, holding out her hand politely. “I’m Quinn, Mr. Vasser’s new secretary.”

“So you are,” Madison replied, extending her hand in an almost regal fashion, noting silently that the girl held her eyes without yielding. It was interesting to find the girl either stubborn enough or maybe aloof enough to do so.

“You’re his sister, Madison?” Quinn blurted out, too impatient to wait for the woman to announce who she was. It was so obvious, anyway.

Madison smirked, the curve of her lips slow and deliberate. “I am.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry you caught me in the middle of lunch. If you’re looking for Mr. Vasser, he’s out for another thirty minutes or so.”

Madison shot a quick glance down at Quinn’s unfinished lunch, disapproving instantly of the girl’s carelessness. Food and drink other than water did not belong anywhere near a computer. “Please eat your lunch in the waiting area or the staff lounge next time, darling. We wouldn’t want any damage to the equipment.”

“Oh.” Quinn glanced down at her Tupperware container, embarrassed. “Right, I’m sorry. Will do.”

“Thank you.” Madison motioned to her assistant, her lips curving again. “This is my assistant, Carrie. On most days you’ll find both of us directly across the hall,” she pointed to the other glass wall alcove and accompanying office, “and so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Carrie.”

“Okay, good to know.” Quinn nodded, smiling at Carrie politely. The girl simply stood, still and quiet as a statue, and nearly as emotionless. Frowning slightly, Quinn turned her attention back to Madison. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you do here at the hotel?”

“I am the food and beverage director.” Madison replied simply, not seeing the need to supply more information than that.

Quinn’s mouth damn near dropped open at the woman’s words, and she spoke before she could contain herself. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Madison confirmed, a small, carefully restrained laugh escaping her throat. “Does that surprise you?”

“It does, as I wasn’t expecting to meet you so soon.” Quinn beamed, nearly jumping from excitement, her earlier hesitancy about the woman gone. “You see, I’m something of a cook myself, and I was hoping to eventually get transferred into a position at one of the hotel restaurants, once something opens up.”

“Do you have an education in the culinary arts?” Madison asked, just curious enough to hear the girl out.

“Not a professional education, per se, but I’ve been literally cooking all of my life, and my mother and grandmother taught me everything they know. Couple that with years of a manic devotion to the Food Network, an unhealthy obsession with Mario Batalli, Iron Chef, and Rachel Ray, and you have me. Even if it’s not for a year or two, I understand, but if something opens up I hope you’ll consider giving me a shot. I really am good, I promise you.”

Amused, Madison lifted one perfectly sculpted dark eyebrow and eyed the woman with a condescending smirk. “I’m afraid I usually require more experience than that. You have one of the best jobs this hotel has to offer, darling. I suggest you make the most of it. Pleasure meeting you.”

With that, she turned on her heel and swept gracefully from the office, her long legs crossing with the smooth click of her heels as she went towards the elevators, her assistant in tow.

Madison knew then that Grant had nothing to worry about from that woman. She was aloof, starry eyed and peppy, traits that Madison usually despised, but she certainly was no gold digger. And even if she had been, she was far from being Grant’s type. The woman talked too much. Grant was likely to get tired of her within the week, and perhaps he’d transfer her to work with Linc at the front desk. After all, Linc had much lower standards.

Quinn stared silently as the two women disappeared into an elevator, then forced herself to sit back down in her chair.

Well, damn, she thought miserably. And here she thought she’d be able to charm the socks off the food and beverage director and convince him or her to give her a job. Apparently
that
wasn’t going to happen, not now anyway.

Feeling more than a little angry with herself, Quinn shut the lid tight on her pasta lunch and stuffed it into her bag, not wanting to look at it any longer. Fool, damn fool, she grimaced. Thinking somehow she could be some big fancy chef at a big fancy hotel. Maybe some dreams just weren’t meant to come true…

Alright, hold up, Quinn paused, taking a deep breath and shutting her eyes, trying to focus. Just because she’d had a relatively crappy first impression with the lofty Madison Vasser did not mean she was never going to go places. Damnit, she was determined to make it in this industry, and she would do it whether it was at the Vasser Hotel or elsewhere.