Page 53 of A King’s Obsession

“The VIP stairs are another problem. Servers carrying bottles upstairs shouldn't have to keep cutting through customer traffic. Especially once everybody's drunk and standing wherever they feel like standing.”

I looked at her instead of the screen.

Three weeks.

She'd been inside Vice for three fucking weeks and had already noticed problems nobody had brought to me during planning.

“What else?” I asked, wanting to hear what else she'd picked up on.

Jru's eyes lifted to mine. “You actually asking my opinion?”

“That's why your ass is on the plane.”

Something changed in her expression.

It wasn't dramatic. Just a brief flicker of surprise before she looked back down.

But I saw it.

And right then, Malachi managed to piss me off from several hundred miles away without even being in the fucking room. Because the motherfucker had been right.

Hiring Jru had been good for Vice.

Bad for me.

But damn good for Vice.

My phone rang before I could tell her to keep going.

Yara.

I answered while Jru returned her attention to the layout. Yara ran through the latest changes to our schedule and told me the broker for the Wynwood property had confirmed our afternoon walkthrough.

“Make sure he has everything ready before we get there,” I told her, glancing at the itinerary. “I'm not spending two hours listening to a sales pitch.”

“I already told him. And call me when you land because I need your answer on Thursday's meeting,” she replied, sounding like she was already moving on to the next thing on her list.

“Aight.”

“Is Jru with you?” she asked before I could end the call.

My eyes moved toward her.

Jru's finger stopped against the tablet for half a second.

“Yeah,” I answered, watching her reaction.

“Good. Tell her I said have fun.”

I almost smiled. “Goodbye, Yara.”

I ended the call.

Jru didn't look up.

I gave her a few seconds.

Nothing.