Читать книгу Vegas, Baby - Theodora Taylor - Страница 11

Chapter 3

The Benton Group currently had holdings all over the United States, but Cole Benton had maintained the flagship executive offices near the top of the hotel’s original forty-story building. So Sunny didn’t have to go far to confront The Third. After getting back into her street clothes and borrowing a cardigan from Pru to wear over her tank top, it was only a matter of simply walking on over to The Benton’s main bank of elevators.

However, when she got inside the first elevator car that opened up for her and pushed the button for the 35th floor, her head began to fill with righteous steam. Seriously, how dare Cole Benton just cut their show without even a little bit of warning? What a prick, she she thought, as she walked past the empty receptionist desk, rehearsing the polite but passionate plea Rick had all but written down for her.

Sunny came to an abrupt pause in the doorway of the outer office. Then she checked the nameplate on the door. The wood-and-glass sign declared this to be the office of Cole Benton, the CEO of The Benton Group of Hotels and Casinos. However, his outer office was not only sparse, with just a simple black desk and a black leather couch to appoint it, but it was also empty, the chair behind the secretary’s desk currently without an occupant.

Sunny hesitated, all revved up with nowhere to go. What should she do? Wait for the secretary on the couch? Hope that she’d be back sometime soon? Or...

Her eyes went to the closed door, which was painted black, as if Mr. Benton truly wanted a soul to think twice before entering his inner sanctum. And it worked. Sunny’s stomach churned at the thought of actually going in there.

But she ignored the butterflies writhing around in her belly and concentrated on taking one step, then another, then a few more after that, until she could take no more. She was right at his office door now. She had no choice but to run away or to knock.

Her main instinct was to run away. She hadn’t even worked up the nerve to tell Rick she was moving to New York. Did she really think she had what it took to confront Cole Benton face-to-face?

But she had to do this, she decided in the end. For Rick, and her coworkers, most of whom she considered friends. She took a deep breath and raised her hand for what she hoped would be a polite but firm knock on Mr. Benton’s door.

Before her knuckles could touch the dark wood, the door swung open, and suddenly her field of vision was filled with a dark tie and a well-cut suit, covering what looked like a lean, well-muscled chest.

Her gaze traveled up. The man staring down at her had dark brown hair, a square chin and a set of green eyes so intense, they put her in mind of a hawk. She’d noticed his official corporate photo a few times downstairs in the lobby, him unsmiling with the hotel’s famous choreographed water fountain in the background. Just looking at him standing there in front of shooting jets of water had made her feel cold, as if looking at a picture of a snow-peaked mountain.

But now standing in front of him, his eyes were just as icy as they’d been in the photo. However, this time his gaze didn’t make Sunny feel cold. In fact, it burned into her, rooting her to the spot with electric attraction.

And maybe he was just as stunned by her appearance, because he also went still, as if someone had hit the pause button on his brain. But only for a moment, and then his crystal green gaze began a slow descent down her body...and all the words she had prepared suddenly flew out of her head.

They stared at each other like this for moments on end, him the hawk, her as scared and speechless as a mouse.

“Yes, what do you want?” he finally said, with only the slightest uplift on “want” to let her know this was actually a question. His voice was dark, precise—like a gun shooting bullets.

Sunny cleared her throat. “Hi....um, I’m—”

“I know who you are.”

“Really?” The words came out as a squeak. She tried again. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He crooked his head as if he were trying to decode her, even though as far as Sunny knew, there was nothing to decipher. “My grandmother speaks very highly of you for some reason.”

“Oh, Nora, of course,” Sunny said, relaxing a bit at the sound of her friend’s name. “That’s so nice of her to say nice things about me. I’ve had a lot of fun helping her with the Christmas Lung Cancer event over the years. Though, I’ve, ah, never seen you at any of those events....”

This observation caused that green gaze of his to shutter. “No, I was too busy running the corporation that provides all the money for Nora’s charity events.”

This made Sunny’s nose crinkle. “Too busy even for your grandma? I mean if my grandma were still alive and asked me to come out, anywhere, I’d make the time.”

Cole’s lips thinned. “I suppose we have different ways of showing our relatives we value them. I think keeping my grandmother rich beyond her wildest dreams is enough, whereas you seem to think I’m neglecting her if I don’t show up at her little Christmas party.”

Sunny shrugged. “Money’s nice, for sure. Believe me, I know that,” she said, thinking fleetingly of her dream to move to New York. “But if I had to choose between a big old pile of money, or family, I’d choose family every time.”

Cole gave her a grumpy look. “I can see why she likes you if you go around spouting crap like that.”

“Excuse me, it’s not crap—” Sunny broke off before her temper could get away from her. Yes, Cole Benton was an ass who couldn’t be bothered to support his own grandmother, but unfortunately, he was the ass who could get The Benton Girls Revue back up and running. She had to be nice to him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Benton, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” She pasted on a smile and went back to the script Rick had gone over with her. “I’m actually here as a friend of your grandmother’s to talk with you about your recent decision to cancel The Benton Girls Revue.”

Mr. Benton’s mouth twisted up. “Oh, that,” he said, his monotone making it clear how unenthused he was to pursue the particular topic of conversation. But then he surprised her by stepping back, and holding the door open for her. “I suppose you’d better come in.”

She did, glancing around the mostly black-and-white room before tentatively sitting down on one of the hard black guest chairs. The whole office put her in mind of a chessboard, and she had the feeling that the association was intentional, as if to say to visitors, “once you step into Cole Benton’s space it’s game on.”

And it became clear who was the king on this board when Cole Benton sat down in the much larger chair behind his white desk, steepling his hands over its glass cover. “Talk.”

Sunny swallowed and folded her hands in her lap. “As you know, The Benton Girls Revue is one of the oldest revues in Vegas, and even though I know it comes with its share of costs, it does still break even.”

“Barely,” Cole added. “And I’m not a fan of breaking even, especially when there are plenty of other shows interested in that space. Shows that would cost less and bring in a higher profit.”

“I understand,” Sunny answered. “But when you add in The Revue’s long history, anyone can see that you can’t put a money amount on its value.”

“Only if they don’t have an MBA,” Cole answered. “I’m assuming you don’t.”

What. A. Jerk. What complete and total jerk, she thought, trying to keep the lid on her temper. “No one knows the value of that history more than I do. My grandmother was the first black Benton Girl, and it really makes me sad to think her legacy won’t be able to continue on—”

“So that’s how our grandmothers met?” Cole asked. “While kicking up their heels on the Benton Girl line?”

“Yes, and that’s why—”

“Save it,” Cole said with a bored expression. “You’ve way overestimated the nostalgia factor. I’m a businessman first and foremost in all things, so I don’t care how old The Benton Girls Revue is. The fact is we’d make more of a profit selling the costumes and set pieces we’ve used in it than we would keeping the show going, and that’s what I value most, the bottom line.”

Sunny had tried. She’d really tried, but she couldn’t hold her temper back any longer. “Look, Mr. Benton. I’m not here about your bottom line, I’m here about the people who signed on to do a job in good faith and then had the carpet pulled out from under them today. Good people.”

The man behind the desk threw her a skeptical look. “Let me guess, good people like you.”

“Yes, good people like me,” she agreed. “I have no shame in admitting I need this job to hit my life goals. But also, good people like my best friend, Prudence, who has a younger brother she’s supporting all by herself. Two weeks severance isn’t going to cut it for her.”

“Life goals like what?”

Sunny blinked, a little thrown off track by his response to her passionate speech. “What?”

“You said you have life goals that you need this job to support. What are they?”

Sunny frowned, all sorts of discombobulated. “You really want to know...?”

Mr. Benton heaved a huge sigh. “You’ve already seen how much I value the bottom line, so you should just assume that I also value my time, since it’s worth a lot of money. Believe me, Ms. Johnson, I don’t waste it with questions I don’t want answered.”

Sunny adjusted herself in the black chair. “All right. I haven’t told Rick or your grandmother this yet, so I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself until I do.”

She paused, waiting for him to promise, but he just stared back at her. The king on his chessboard, refusing to make any concessions to a mere pawn.

“I recently received a scholarship to earn an MFA in dance pedagogy—that’s basically like dance education—at New York Arts University. They’ll cover my tuition in exchange for me agreeing to teach in their dance program for low-income neighborhoods for the two years that I’m there. But they don’t provide room or board, and room and board isn’t exactly cheap—even in the outer boroughs where I’d be living...”

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful, like he’d never even considered how the other half lived before.

Probably because he hadn’t, Sunny thought to herself before continuing on. “So you see why I need this job at least until August, along with all the other hard working dancers in The Revue.”

For some reason, Mr. Benton smiled. Smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Yes, yes, I do see now.”

She waited for him to expand on that statement, but he continued to sit there, his brow crinkled, like he was running some sort of calculation.

Sunny looked from side to side. “Does this mean you’re actually thinking about not cancelling the show?”

“Depends,” Mr. Benton answered.

“On what?” she asked when he once again fell quiet.

He sat forward. “On what you’re willing to do to make sure the show goes on.”