Behaving Badly in Vegas (Vegas Love #3)

10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Hunter

At ten minutes to three, I entered the conference room and took my place next to the head of the table. I’d never arrived late to a meeting. Promptness was not only professional but also showed respect. Seemingly, only one other person shared my opinion.

I ignored the woman at the other end of the table, who looked familiar but I hadn’t cared enough to remember her name. I set my portfolio and pen on the table, ready to start on some real work instead of cleaning out a closet that now slightly resembled an office with its crappy furniture and secondhand office supplies. My new boss hadn’t even bothered to introduce himself to me. Totally unprofessional. When I was CFO, I made it a point to introduce myself to new employees, even if I forgot their names two seconds later.

My phone buzzed with a text, and I pulled it out of my suit coat. It was from Charlotte. Apparently, the move went well. She also included a selfie of herself and Carina, smiling big for the camera. I gazed at the picture. It was the first one I had of my daughter. I still couldn’t believe she was mine, but those cerulean eyes were unmistakable. She was definitely mine.

I saved the picture and sent Charlotte a thumbs-up, then put my phone on silent and set it face down on the table. Distractions were the last thing I needed, and pictures of Charlotte Bently were very distracting.

The table began to fill as employees meandered into the conference room. Trent sat across from me and Gia next to him. “How’s the office coming?” Trent smirked at his own perceived cleverness.

“It’s perfect.” I pasted on a fake smile and set my mug where he could read it. “No complaints.” I wasn’t going to let him get any more pleasure at my expense than he’d already gotten. There was a quota for that, and he’d reached his limit. I turned my attention to his wife. “Hello, Gia.”

“Hunter.” If looks could kill, I’d be flat on the floor.

“I’d appreciate a moment of your time after the meeting.” Might as well get the apology over with sooner rather than later. I didn’t need it lingering between us and I would earn some brownie points with my brother.

She looked me dead in the eye with a bored expression. “I’ll check my schedule to see when I’m available. Penny will let you know the time of your appointment.”

Appointment?

Trent snickered into his hand. “Burn.”

“Of course,” I said through clenched teeth. I couldn’t really blame her for hating me, but still…

“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat came from behind me. I turned to look at the douche canoe in wireframes and a three-piece suit. “You’re in my seat.”

To the left of my father had always been my seat. I looked at Trent, who raised an eyebrow and motioned with his head for me to move down.

This was fucking bullshit, but I picked up my things and moved to the only empty seat next to Greta, head of housekeeping. She scowled at me as I sat down. In fact, everyone was scowling at me. Not one of them said hello or welcomed me back. I kept my mouth shut and glared at my coworkers. Fuck these people !

My father walked in and took his spot at the head of the table. “Good afternoon, everyone. I want to start this meeting by welcoming back my son, Hunter.” He motioned to me, and the staff gave me a lame round of applause. I was about as welcome as a nun at an orgy. Nobody wanted me here.

If I were a lesser man, it would have bothered me, but I really didn’t give a shit what these people thought of me. I knew my worth.

During the meeting, I kept my ears open and scribbled notes in my portfolio. Revenue was down and spending was up. Both were bad for Mystique. I couldn’t wait to dig into the financial records. When I left here a year ago, we were on our way to being the most lucrative resort in Vegas. According to my father’s report, profits were slipping.

When I got back to my office, I planned to examine all the financial records from the last year with a fine-tooth comb. There was absolutely no reason the resort should be losing money. Our shows were fantastic, the cuisine Michelin Star rated, the rooms exquisite, the shopping high end, and the casinos unmatched. We boasted the best customer service on the Strip. Every employee went through strenuous training to ensure it. If we were losing money, it wasn’t for lack of quality.

My father prided himself on giving customers an experience they would never forget. With him close to retiring, declining margins would set him back at least another year. Not that I was anxious for Trent to take over, but poor revenue was bad for everyone.

This was an opportunity to seize, a way to get back into the good graces of the family. I made more notes, bullet-pointing areas that required further investigation and possible deficiencies. On a separate sheet of paper, I began conducting a preliminary SWOT analysis, citing strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats for Mystique.

The bank wasted my talent with mundane tasks such as reviewing delinquent mortgages and credit checks for personal loans. Neither took any skills. Any idiot with a degree in finance could do it. I missed the thrill of a challenge—digging deeper, creating spreadsheets, and analyzing facts and figures. Most people found data mining tedious and tiresome. To me, sorting through information to identify patterns and relationships was therapeutic. For the first time since getting fired, my spark and motivation returned.

After the meeting concluded, I took it upon myself to approach my new boss and introduce myself since he hadn’t had the courtesy to do it himself. I bit the bullet and stuck out my hand. “We haven’t been formally introduced, but I’m Hunter and we’ll be working together. I’d like to meet with you to discuss my ideas regarding the financial shortfall Mystique is currently undergoing.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at me like a pesky insect he needed to squash. “My understanding is you’ll be working for me, not with me. I’m already conducting an analysis. What I need is for you to oversee payroll while reviewing requests for personal days and vacation time. You think you can handle that?”

Was this guy for real? “All due respect, Leonard…”

“It’s Mr. Moroski. All due respect, Hunter , but I know who you are, and I won’t be extending any special privileges. You’ll address me as Mr. Moroski, like all the other employees. I’ll have my PA send you the payroll files.” He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me standing there like a complete idiot.

I sat back down and stared at my notes as the room cleared out. This was worse than working at the bank. At least there, people treated me with respect. Maybe coming back here was a mistake. It was unrealistic to think the staff would accept me. The only reason I hadn’t been completely exiled was because of my last name.

My salary at the bank wasn’t that bad. I could go back. All it would take was a bit of groveling. If I worked really hard, maybe in twenty years, I would be promoted to bank manager. Whoop-de-do.

I ripped the pages out of my portfolio, crumbled them in my fist, and threw them across the room. They bounced off the wall in pathetic fashion and dropped to the floor.

Fuck this shit!

No way was I going back to the bank. I pushed my chair back and stormed across the room to pick up the wadded pieces of paper. Smoothing them out, I carefully tucked them back into my portfolio .

There was more than one way to skin a cat. Leonard Morosk-hole was an arrogant dick fucker. I’d spent my whole life hurdling over obstacles bigger than him. He thought he knew who I was, but he didn’t have a clue. When it came to playing by the rules, I was nothing like Trent or my father.

He messed with the wrong Dorsey.