Free IN ROOM 33 by EC Sheedy

can't be that concerned about young Emerson. I assure you, I'm not."
    David quaffed the brandy, appeared to suck the fire from his throat to his head. He shook it clear. "Lana Emerson has the will."
    "I know that." Christian enjoyed the look of surprise on David's face. It pleasured him to think he still had the upper hand with his protégé. "You are not my only source for information. The question is, why did it take you so long to come and tell me such critical information?"
    "I've been trying to come up with a solution before bringing you the problem. Isn't that what you taught me?"
    Christian ignored the curled lip, the sniping tone."Judging by your use of the word 'trying,' you haven't succeeded. So, tell me, what is the problem? No, let me guess—the Emerson woman wants more money." Christian was prepared to increase his offer, had been all along, even while David continued to assure him the woman was prepared to practically give him the hotel.
    "Lana didn't inherit. Stephen left the hotel to Joy Cole, her daughter."
    Christian's grip tightened on his glass, and he didn't immediately speak. This did indeed add an unexpected variable to their plan. "There's no mistake?"
    "No."
    "She was here. Today. Gordy told me he'd met a 'pretty woman' in the hall."
    "Yes. She asked me to show her around. Then she said I should go, that she wanted to wander around the hotel by herself."
    "And you let her?" Christian took note of his quickened heartbeat. He didn't like new people in the hotel. People he couldn't control. Emerson wasn't a problem in that respect, but this young woman...
    "Short of dragging her out the front door by her hair—which I suspect might have brought a crowd—I had no choice. She's a stubborn bitch."
    "David!"
    "God, Christian, give me a break about the language, will you? Maybe take one small step into the twenty-first century?"
    Christian ignored him. "This girl—"
    "Hardly a girl. She's thirty, or close to it."
    "But she'll go along with her mother's wishes, will she not? And sell you—us—the hotel?"
    "I've convinced her there's no value in the building—which in fact there isn't, to anyone other than you," he said, his tone disparaging. "She's also got a serious case of wanderlust—and a job that feeds off it, so, yes, I think she'll sell."
    "You 'think' so," Christian echoed, his words laced with disapproval. "My dear David, you'd best soon come to know so for both our sakes. I've waited half a century for the chance to own my home." His pulse pounded against the thin skin of his throat; he put his fingers against it, applied pressure. "If it weren't for me, there wouldn't be a Hotel Philip; it's mine by right. And I will not have what may be my last opportunity lost because of a stupid young woman and the even stupider Emerson who willed it to her. This is my home, and I do not intend to ever be removed from it." He shifted his gaze to the terrace where the wind rustled the leaves of the trees in the large planters. A handful of leaves skipped and danced over the patio stones. "Such a bore, moving. So many things to dispose of."
    In the still, strained atmosphere of the penthouse, the pump of David's lungs could be heard over the soft notes of Bach—over the clink of David's glass when he poured himself more of Christian's fine brandy. "The day I met you was the day I was cursed." David's look was venomous.
    "We curse ourselves, David, didn't you know that?" Christian showed his teeth in a full yellow smile, then went back to the business at hand. "This Joy Cole, is she married? Does she have children?"
    "No." David tossed back another shot of brandy.
    "Other siblings or blood family members?"
    "Not that I'm aware of."
    "Then make yourself aware, and in the event she's foolish enough to reject your offer, we shall have a plan B. While this may be a small snag, it is not a catastrophe. Simple, really." Christian stroked one bony finger with another, considered his position, and formulated his