C2 Chapter 2

Stefan

Stan held up a tumbler of champagne and remarked, "Hopefully, with these new renovations, those fat cats from New York will be interested in becoming a part of The Grand." He had already had several glasses, so his hand was shaking, and he took a big gulp to empty the flute.

"To The Grand," I growled. I sipped it slowly and reclined in my chair. Nothing lifted my spirits quite like having lunch with one of my most reliable colleagues, Stan Stefanander. It didn't matter that we had been sipping champagne for so long that I was certain the restaurant would run out soon.

Since my hotel, The Grand, was my pride and pleasure. It has given me everything I could possibly want in this life—fame, money, and everything else. However, on certain days, I felt as though something was lacking.

Stan gave me a sharp push on the arm and burped loudly. "Hey, what's up with you? You've been acting so depressed lately, Stan complained. He appeared to have not slept in days, and he had a huge cowlick on his head. I withdrew the champagne bottle from him and sighed.

I'm alright. Conversely, you must give the drink a break. What is the duration of your sobriety? I squeezed. Stan and I had a long history together—all the way back to our undergraduate days, when we used to get wild after finals. However, it appeared that Stan had not progressed above that point.

Why are you concerned? At 45 years old, I am a multimillionaire. I'm free to do anything I want! Stan declared aloud. I gave him a shoulder pat while laughing.

"Whatever you say, my friend." Stan took hold of my forearm as I attempted to stand up.

"Man, seriously though," Stan uttered in a hushed voice. "Are you doing okay? I am aware that you and Donna parted ways a few months ago. The atmosphere grew chilly as recollections filled my head. I had been married to Donna for eleven years when I discovered she was having an affair with Tony McCarthy, my former supervisor. He was an elderly, disreputable lawyer with equally old money. More than the hotel was what Donna always claimed she desired. The idea that she had finally found what she was looking for in that elderly scoundrel was almost ludicrous.

“At the moment, my attention is on the hotel. Donna no longer exists. Stan didn't need to know that it was a lie, though. Nobody did.

Alright. But since then, have you at least fucked anyone? Randolph, you're a working man. Stan stammered, raising his voice by an octave as he spoke. "You've got needs." As I pulled on my jacket, I rolled my eyes.

I swore, "It's none of your fucking business." I reached for my wallet and jammed it into my pocket. "And nobody addresses me as Randolph. As you are aware.

Stan scowled at the screen. "Anything," he uttered. "You must find a partner. Similar to yesterday.

I walked out of the restaurant, ignoring him.

"Friend, keep your chin up! Something can appear out of nowhere! I caught Stan yelling. I sighed, ignored him, and shook my head as I climbed into the back of my limousine.

It was a quick ride back to The Grand. The more the wheels turned, the less I was irritated at Stan. Even though he occasionally went overboard, I could never stay angry with him for very long because we were such close friends. I slid my sunglasses up onto the bridge of my nose as the limo pulled up in front of the hotel.

After getting out of the limousine, I inhaled deeply and bided my time till the afterglow of champagne subsided. The Grand was one of the most opulent hotels in Las Vegas, thus a lot of travellers and sophisticated housewives frequented it. I had nothing when I first started in this industry. Nope. However, I made my way up gradually, and obtaining The Grand has been the highlight of my professional journey thus far. Naturally, it takes up all of my time and energy; after the first year of hotel ownership, my life spiralled out of control and required constant attention to detail.

However, I live for my life. Being the owner of such a house meant having power and chaos, which I liked. My focus remained on business, precisely where it should have remained. And it was the same today. Terry, the general manager of the hotel, and my assistant, Alicia, greeted me as soon as I entered.

"Mr. Stefan, Stan called you twice today and asked that you give him a call back."

"Okay."

"Then, Michael Wang gave me a call regarding the fourth-floor bar renovations; he wants to move forward with starting that next week."

Alright.

Terry raced over, his wide face dripping with perspiration.

"Mr. Stefan, please. There are two guests who are persistently attempting to check in with expired cards."

"Oh, and," Alicia interrupted. The dry cleaners informed me that your Givenchy suit was prepared for pickup over the phone.

I extended my hand to sever their connection. Terry only appears nervous, while Alicia becomes quiet and flushes.

I snarled, "I just got in, for fuck's sake." "Give me one damn minute!"

"I apologise, Mr. Stefan. I did not—"

"Enough," I angrily yelled. "And why is the valet parking that disgusting van outside?"

How come? Jennifer scowled.

I angrily remarked, "It's your job to pay attention to these kinds of things while I'm gone." "Why is that van in this place?"

"I'm shocked, but I've never seen a van like that pull up here," Alicia said. Terry moved from one foot to the other tensely.

"Is it time to call security?" Terry enquired.

Ignoring him, I moved to look at the van's doors. When the driver unlocked the driver's side door, it screamed, and I looked on in disgust as a filthy-looking man with a receding hairline got out. He wore a rumpled white t-shirt under a brown jacket that seemed to be a size too small, and he had a massive pot belly. His face was perspiring from the heat in Nevada, and his arms were short, hanging just over his hips.

I narrowed my eyes as a heated feeling of contempt and rage passed over me. How dare this small, repulsive, ugly man enter The Grand's exquisite beauty? I saw the shocked looks on the other guests' faces. He darted to the side of the hotel and took a frayed plastic bag out of his jacket pocket while I watched.

I snarled, "That fucker thinks he can steal from me." "No way, no how!" I turned to face Terry and Alicia and folded my arms across my large chest.

I gave my workers the instruction, "Get back to work; I'll take care of this." As I walked out of the hotel, they both nervously retreated. With haste, I rolled up my sleeves and made my way to the side of the structure. He was burrowing like a street rat in the dumpsters.

"Do you really think you're doing this?" I screamed. The man halted, raised his head, and rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Fancy, what do you want?”

I snarled, "Get out of that dumpster, now." My hands clenched into fists. "Or you will come to regret the day you came to take something from me."

He gave a blink. From yourself?

"This is my hotel," I growled. "I also don't put up with thieves."

"It's worthless," the man declared. He shrugged, and that one small gesture turned my ire into actual fury. "Anyway, what were you going to do with it?"

"Leave," I yelled.

The man whistled and smacked his lips against his teeth. "There are many hidden gems in the dumpster that bring in a nice sum of money for Mark Butler." He leaped into the bin and extracted an ancient, damaged lamp.

"Like this gorgeous thing right now! I could get up to $175 for it, or even $175 if I claimed it belonged to a wealthy jerk like you. He gave me a wink before returning to his dumpster diggery.

"I won't tell you once again. I yelled, "Get the fuck away from my dumpsters and my hotel." "I'm not a charity person."

With a sarcastic sigh, Mark leaped out of the garbage, carrying his plastic bag on his shoulder.

I agree, whatever. Mark murmured, "There's not much in there anyway. I firmly took hold of his arm and placed my foot in front of his plump legs. He abruptly stopped and gave me a carefree glance. "What?" I'm going," he muttered under his breath. "Remove your hands from me!"

"You understand that I'm taking you to that piece of shit van and you're not allowed to come back to this hotel again?"

Mark began to object, but I grabbed him by the arm harder and pulled him back to his van. Just as we got closer to the van, Mark squirmed out of my hold. My mouth fell when I saw the back door open, just before I could grab him again.

The most beautiful girl I had ever seen began to emerge from the van's rear. She was on her hands and knees, her brown curls falling lovingly over her glossy head. She had a little pout on her face and a physique full of curves and lusciousness. My cock twitched just by gazing at her. As Mark approached her, I forced myself to swallow. He knew her, but how? Was she one of his victims?

I was filled with poisonous hatred as I observed Mark's casual demeanour. "You are such a prick. You believed that you could simply stroll in and approach women? I took Mark by the collar and gave him a hard shove against the automobile. I was going to give him a hard look when the stunning girl leaped in front of me and let out a cry of protest. My cock tensed as her breasts lightly touched my body.

Please don't harm my father! "Don't harm him!" the girl cried out. Her lower lip was trembling nervously, and her brown eyes were pleading with me. My mouth sprang open in shock. How could this nasty, dirty man's kid be such a stunning girl?

"Nadia, it's alright," Mark sighed. "Mr. Fancy Pants is not interested in us living off of his priceless dumpsters,"

Before letting Mark go, I gave him one last nudge against the side of the van.

Nadia calmly said, "It's okay," while adjusting her dad's collar.

Mark withdrew his hand from hers. "Mister Rich Boy, I can't help but think that this is a nice place you have here," Mark pondered.

It's Stefan Randolph. And certainly, I hissed, defending The Grand from filth like you because it is my pride and delight.

"Oh, naturally! I suppose Nadia and I are accustomed to living in motels.

"Innkeeper life" I swore as I said it again.

Yes, Nadia is employed by one of them. What's its name, by the way? Mark's voice became halting.

Nadia gently responded, twirling her curls around her finger, "The Pink Flamingo." She gave me a hesitant glance before averting her gaze. Her timid demeanour was making me feel attracted to her, and I had to fight the need to seize her and plant a passionate kiss on the side of the van.

"Explain the Pink Flamingo, please." My eyes went narrower. For the past three years, I had been working to have that landfill shut down, and as of last week, with the help of the municipal council meeting, it appeared like my wish would finally be granted.

Nadia answered, "The Pink Flamingo, indeed." "It's the only job I have that pays enough."

Mark sneered, "Too bad she's only the maid." "That's all she could find; she just graduated from high school." With a heated blush, Nadia moved away from Mark.

I grimaced. Although I knew that men like Mark were evil, I couldn't help but be attracted to his daughter.

Alright, Mark. I responded breezily, "I guess I could let you look into my dumpster, as long as you just look through between one and five in the morning. I wanted to see Nadia again, even though I wasn't sure if she had developed the habit of going to "work" with her father.

Mark gave me a wink as he and Nadia returned to the dilapidated van. Nadia gave me another look and shut the door. As I watched them retreat, I noticed that my protruding erection had tented my pants. That girl was insanely beautiful, and I couldn't believe she was that disgusting man's daughter. I had to find a way to see her once more. She was a maid, and I was a hotel magnate, after all. It was flawless. I had another appointment with her. The other way around.