Having Her Boss's Baby

“Yes.”

She ground her teeth together. “You don’t think people might be put off their food if they’re surrounded by spirits of the dead looking over their shoulders?”

He frowned, tapped one finger against the table and said, “We can move the wall murals to the reception hall—”

Aine took a breath. “And what of the guests who aren’t coming to be a part of role-playing?” she asked. “We’ve regular guests, you know, who return year after year and they’re accustomed to a castle with dignity, tradition.”

“You keep throwing around the word tradition, and yet, with all of that dignity, the castle is in desperate need of repair and almost broke.”

She took a breath to fight him on that, but it was impossible to argue with an ugly truth. The castle she loved was in dire straits, and whether she liked it or not, Brady Finn was her only hope to save it. So many people depended on the castle and the guests who came to stay there that she couldn’t risk alienating the man. Yet despite knowing all of that, she felt as though the castle itself was depending on her to preserve its heritage.

“I admit the castle needs some care and attention,” she said, steeling herself to meet that clear, steady stare he’d fixed on her. “But I wonder if turning it into an amusement park is really the answer.”

“Not an amusement park,” he corrected. “No roller coasters, Ferris wheels or cotton-candy booths.”

“Thank heaven for that, at least,” she murmured.

“It’s going to be a destination hotel,” Brady told her and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “People all over the world will want to come to Fate Castle and experience the game they love in real life.”

“Fans, then.”

“Sure, fans,” he said, straightening abruptly and leaning back in his chair again. “But not only fans of the game. There’ll be others. People who want a taste of a real medieval experience.”

“Real?” she asked, tapping one finger on a drawing of a wraith with wild gray hair blowing in an unseen wind. “I’ve lived near the castle all my life and I’ve never seen anything like this haunting the grounds.”

“Real with a twist,” he amended, his lips twitching briefly.

That quick, thoughtless tiny half smile and her stomach did a quick dip and roll. She had to fight to keep her mind focused on their conversation. “And you believe there are enough fans of this game to turn the castle’s finances around?”

He shrugged. “We sold one hundred million copies of Fate Castle.”

Her mind boggled. The number was so huge it was impossible to believe. “So many?”

“And more selling all the time,” he assured her.

She sighed, looked at the drawings spread out over the table and tried to mentally apply them to the castle she knew. It would be so different, she thought. Yet a voice in the back of her mind whispered, It will survive. If all went as Brady Finn suggested, the castle and the village it supported would continue. That was the most important thing, wasn’t it?

“I suppose you’re right, then, about fans coming to the castle. Though I worry about people like Mrs. Deery and her sister, Miss Baker.”

He frowned. “Who are they?”

Aine sighed and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “Just two of our regular guests,” she said. “They’re sisters, in their eighties, and they’ve been coming to Castle Butler every year for the past twenty. They take a week together to catch up on each other’s lives and to be coddled a little by the hotel staff.”

“They can still come to the hotel,” he said.

Aine glanced again at the drawing of the wraith. “Yes, they can and no doubt will. I just wonder what they’ll make of the zombies...”

“It’s not just the gaming aspects we’re renovating at the castle,” he said. “We’ll be restoring the whole place. Making it safe again. The wiring’s mostly shot. It’s a wonder the place hasn’t caught fire.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” she argued, defending the place she loved.

“According to the building inspector we hired, it is,” Brady said. “The plumbing will be redone, new roof, insulation—though the castle will look medieval, it won’t feel like it.”

Aine took a breath and held it to keep from saying anything else. He was right in that the building itself needed updating desperately. In winter, you could feel cold wind sliding between the stones. Under the window sashes it came through strong enough to make the drapes flutter.

“We’re going to modernize the kitchens, install working furnaces and change out the worn or faded furniture. We’ll be replacing woodwork that’s rotted or ruined by water damage...”

All right, then, she thought, he was making her beloved castle sound like a tumbledown shack. “There’ve been storms over the years, of course, and—”

He held up one hand for silence and she was so surprised, she gave it to him.

“You don’t have to defend every mantel and window sash in the place to me, Aine. I understand the castle’s old...”

“Ancient,” she corrected, prepared to defend anyway. “Historic.”

“And we agree it needs work. I’m willing to have that work done.”

“And change the heart of it,” she said sadly.

“You’re stubborn,” he said. “I can appreciate that. So am I. The difference is, I’m the one who’ll make the decisions here, Aine. You can either work with me or—”

She looked at him and read the truth in his cool blue eyes. Well, the implication there was clear enough. Get on board or get out. And since there wasn’t a chance in hell she would willingly walk away from Castle Butler and all it entailed, she would have to bide her time, bite her tongue and choose very carefully the battles she was willing to wage.

With that thought in mind, she nodded and said, “Fine, then. If you must have the murals, why not put them in the great hall? You’ve said it’s the place where your role players will gather. Wouldn’t they be the ones to appreciate this kind of...art?”

His lips twitched again, and once more, she felt that quick jolt of something hot and...exciting zip through her like a lightning strike. Ridiculous, she told herself, ordering her hormones to go dormant.

She couldn’t keep having these delicious little fantasy moments about her boss. Especially a boss who had made it abundantly clear that she was expendable. But it seemed that knowing she shouldn’t had nothing to do with reality. Because just being in the same room with Brady Finn made her feel as if every inch of her skin was tingling.

Rather than answer her question immediately he said, “You have to admit that Jenny’s sketches are good.”

“They are,” she said quickly, hoping to take her own mind off the path it continually wanted to wander. “For a game, they’re wonderful. But as decoration in a hotel?”

“In our kind of hotel, they’re perfect,” Brady said firmly. “Though you have a point about the reception area. All right,” he said, tapping a finger against the drawing of a howling banshee, “murals in the great hall.”

“As easily as that?”

“I can compromise when the situation calls for it,” he told her.

Nodding, she ticked off one win for herself on her imaginary tote board. Naturally, Brady had more scores in this competition than she, but gaining this one compromise gave her hope for more. He wasn’t implacable and that was good to know. Brady Finn would be difficult to deal with but not impossible.

“But,” he added before complacency could settle in, “I will do things my way, Aine.”

A warning and a challenge all in one, she told herself. No wonder the man fascinated her so.