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Authors: Evelyn Harper
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physically violent with Jennifer, but she had seen him
take a swing or two at random guys when he was pissed or drunk. And he'd always
been good at making a scene. That was the last thing she needed to happen. “I'll
be at your apartment tomorrow evening. We'll talk then.” He turned and walked
out.
“Nice guy,” Philip commented as he looked down at Jennifer. “Is your
wrist okay?”
Jennifer nodded. She was sure she was shaking. So much was happening
too fast. Just a couple of days ago, she'd been happy with her boring little
life – well, pretty much happy. Then Philip had come along and turned
everything upside-down. She felt like she could now truly say that she knew
what an emotional roller-coaster was like.
“Just some guy from back home,” she hoped that would be enough of a
response. She really didn't want Philip to know that her one previous lover had
been Brad. If she hated the thought of Rachel finding out, the idea of Philip
knowing made her physically ill.
Fortunately, Philip's phone beeped and he started walking again. “We
need to get going. This wasn't the only meeting today. There's a huge
negotiation at one of my other hotels across town that we need to get to.” He
held the door for her. “I'm going to need detailed notes on this one, Jennifer.
Pay special attention to any requests made by the other side. There'll be a lot
to keep straight.”
Jennifer nodded, brain scrambling to keep up. As she climbed into the
back seat, she couldn't help but wonder how the hell she was supposed to
concentrate on mundane things after all of the day's insanity.
Chapter 9
The Carlisle had a little lower ranking than The Preminenza, but only
because it was in a slightly poorer section of the city. Poorer only by
comparison. It was still fairly upscale. The layout and decor of both hotels
were very similar so there was nothing new to distract Jennifer from the
circles her mind was making as she waited for the meeting to start.
What could Brad possibly want to talk to her about? He'd made it pretty
clear when he'd dumped her that she didn't have anything to offer that he
wanted. And then there was Philip. What must he be thinking about the exchange?
Did he suspect who Brad was?
Jennifer was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn't hear
the negotiation begin. It wasn't until Philip's voice – a sound that she was
quickly becoming attuned to – cut through her questions that she snapped back
to attention. Philip was addressing a dark-haired young man a bit more sternly
than Jennifer had heard him speak before.
“Mr. Young, you're the chosen representative of the hotel's
housekeeping staff and yet you are unable to articulate, in simple concise
terms, what your people want?”
Mr. Young looked insulted and he shuffled a few of the papers in front
of him. Jennifer remembered what Philip had said about recording requests and
she readied her pen.
“Mr. Haas, my people's demands are simple. Better hours and higher pay,
which they greatly deserve.”
Philip leaned back in his seat, his fingertips pressed together. “I
understand, Mr. Young, that the hours are long and tiring, but all of the
statistics I've seen say the same thing. The problem is the ineffectual
organization of said hours rather than a need for a change of schedule. Once
the hours are corrected, the current pay will be adequate.” His tone was even,
but firm.
Jennifer jotted down Philip's claim, her eyes darting towards the
annoyed representative for his response.
“Well, I will tell you this, Mr. Haas,” Mr. Young scowled. “Someone
like you cannot begin to imagine what my people are going through on a daily
basis. We will not budge on our demands. If you do not agree to raise their
wages and change their hours, your housekeeping staff will go on strike.”
As she wrote down the, for lack of a better word, threat, Jennifer
couldn't help but think about how
take a swing or two at random guys when he was pissed or drunk. And he'd always
been good at making a scene. That was the last thing she needed to happen. “I'll
be at your apartment tomorrow evening. We'll talk then.” He turned and walked
out.
“Nice guy,” Philip commented as he looked down at Jennifer. “Is your
wrist okay?”
Jennifer nodded. She was sure she was shaking. So much was happening
too fast. Just a couple of days ago, she'd been happy with her boring little
life – well, pretty much happy. Then Philip had come along and turned
everything upside-down. She felt like she could now truly say that she knew
what an emotional roller-coaster was like.
“Just some guy from back home,” she hoped that would be enough of a
response. She really didn't want Philip to know that her one previous lover had
been Brad. If she hated the thought of Rachel finding out, the idea of Philip
knowing made her physically ill.
Fortunately, Philip's phone beeped and he started walking again. “We
need to get going. This wasn't the only meeting today. There's a huge
negotiation at one of my other hotels across town that we need to get to.” He
held the door for her. “I'm going to need detailed notes on this one, Jennifer.
Pay special attention to any requests made by the other side. There'll be a lot
to keep straight.”
Jennifer nodded, brain scrambling to keep up. As she climbed into the
back seat, she couldn't help but wonder how the hell she was supposed to
concentrate on mundane things after all of the day's insanity.
Chapter 9
The Carlisle had a little lower ranking than The Preminenza, but only
because it was in a slightly poorer section of the city. Poorer only by
comparison. It was still fairly upscale. The layout and decor of both hotels
were very similar so there was nothing new to distract Jennifer from the
circles her mind was making as she waited for the meeting to start.
What could Brad possibly want to talk to her about? He'd made it pretty
clear when he'd dumped her that she didn't have anything to offer that he
wanted. And then there was Philip. What must he be thinking about the exchange?
Did he suspect who Brad was?
Jennifer was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn't hear
the negotiation begin. It wasn't until Philip's voice – a sound that she was
quickly becoming attuned to – cut through her questions that she snapped back
to attention. Philip was addressing a dark-haired young man a bit more sternly
than Jennifer had heard him speak before.
“Mr. Young, you're the chosen representative of the hotel's
housekeeping staff and yet you are unable to articulate, in simple concise
terms, what your people want?”
Mr. Young looked insulted and he shuffled a few of the papers in front
of him. Jennifer remembered what Philip had said about recording requests and
she readied her pen.
“Mr. Haas, my people's demands are simple. Better hours and higher pay,
which they greatly deserve.”
Philip leaned back in his seat, his fingertips pressed together. “I
understand, Mr. Young, that the hours are long and tiring, but all of the
statistics I've seen say the same thing. The problem is the ineffectual
organization of said hours rather than a need for a change of schedule. Once
the hours are corrected, the current pay will be adequate.” His tone was even,
but firm.
Jennifer jotted down Philip's claim, her eyes darting towards the
annoyed representative for his response.
“Well, I will tell you this, Mr. Haas,” Mr. Young scowled. “Someone
like you cannot begin to imagine what my people are going through on a daily
basis. We will not budge on our demands. If you do not agree to raise their
wages and change their hours, your housekeeping staff will go on strike.”
As she wrote down the, for lack of a better word, threat, Jennifer
couldn't help but think about how
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