Chapter 2

The next afternoon, I was sitting in the outdoor lounge area by the pool, reviewing the final transfer routes on my encrypted tablet. The Milan deal was in its final stretch—everything had to be perfect.

The doorbell rang. Again and again. Frantic, like it was trying to wake the dead.

I set down the tablet, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole. Marcus, with two uniformed security guards behind him.

This didn't look good.

I opened the door. Marcus practically shoved his way inside. His eyes raked over the suite's furnishings—that greedy, calculating look making my skin crawl.

"Mr. Ricci," he cleared his throat, pulling a document from his briefcase. "On behalf of hotel management, I'm officially informing you that, per the latest revised VIP guest terms, no single guest has the right to monopolize the penthouse's outdoor facilities."

"Common area?" I took the paper and glanced at it. "My booking confirmation explicitly lists the pool and terrace as part of the suite's exclusive square footage."

"Hotel management bylaws can override your personal booking terms," Marcus sneered. "The pool area has now been re-designated as a flexible common social space. For the hotel's overall benefit and event coordination, we require you to hand over the pool area's access card immediately."

I just stared at him.

"On what grounds did you 're-designate' my private usage area?"

"On the grounds of an emergency management meeting held last night." He waved the document proudly. "Long-term VIP guest Mr. Stalin and his wife Pamela pushed it through. All the paperwork's in order. Tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Stalin will be hosting a livestream by the pool."

I finally got it.

This was a planned mugging. Carl was flashing his wife's influencer clout. He and this slimy manager were abusing management authority, cooking up a resolution to steal my negotiation space.

"I'm not handing over any access card," I said calmly. "That 'resolution' has no legal standing. If you have a problem, have your lawyer contact mine."

Marcus's face changed.

"Mr. Ricci, I suggest you cooperate." His voice was low and threatening now. "Management's decision is the hotel's will. And Mrs. Stalin has connections all over this city's business circles—from the Chamber of Commerce to the media. That's not something a man on his own can fight."

The two guards behind him took a step forward. A clear threat.

"And frankly, a young guy like you, occupying an entire suite alone... other long-term VIP guests are watching," Marcus continued. "People are already talking behind your back—saying things like, where does this kid get off putting on such airs? Renting a penthouse for a couple days to play big shot and acting like he's someone important."

"To avoid unnecessary gossip, I'd suggest you keep a lower profile. Don't give other guests the impression that you're too... flashy. It won't do your reputation any favors in the long run, you know what I mean?"

Was he implying I was a fraud? A poser renting above my means?

"What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing specific," he said with a shrug. "Just that young people should learn to fit in, not butt heads with distinguished guests. Some people rent a suite for two days and forget who they are. That's not coming from me—it's what other guests are saying. I'm just looking out for you."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to shut him up permanently. I was running a legitimate financial operation. I couldn't get my hands dirty over this garbage.

"In any case, you will hand over the pool access today," Marcus said, dropping the friendly act entirely. "If you refuse to cooperate, we will have to take action."

"Action?"

"For instance, we could replace the electronic lock to the pool area, citing a security risk," he smiled, an ugly, triumphant thing. "All for hotel safety, of course. Completely within regulations."

One of the guards took out his radio. The other tapped a tool pouch at his belt.

The message was clear.

I gave the three of them a long, hard look.

Marcus was still gloating. "Mr. Ricci, I know you feel wronged, but influential people get priority. That's just business. Mrs. Stalin brings so much exposure to this hotel. Borrowing your pool is a small price to pay. And honestly, a man alone with a pool that size—it just looks wasteful to everyone else. Why not do someone a favor? Make some friends for the future."

"If you continue to be uncooperative..." Marcus checked his watch. "We are authorized to change the pool area's access permissions."

The two guards behind him took another step forward, their presence filling my doorway.

I watched the three men threatening me in my own suite, and a cold smile touched my lips.

"Fine," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerously low calm. I looked him dead in the eye. "Go ahead. Change that lock. But you'd better be damn sure you can handle what comes next."

I slammed the door in their faces.