Chapter 15: Isaac
I wasn’t terribly surprised that I woke up alone. Amanda Ross wasn’t the first woman to use and abuse me and leave me alone to snore in my own juices. I just figured that she had woken up early and made her way back to her own room to get some rest after our workout. Still, it would have been nice to wake up with my arms around her waist and my nose in her hair and my hard cock sliding between her lovely ass cheeks. Oh well, at least she left her mask on the pillow, something to remember her by until I could go find her for real.
I was surprised, however, when I couldn’t find her anywhere on the grounds. She was not in the dining hall having breakfast or in the meeting rooms using the monitored internet or house phones. She wasn’t at the pool or the spa or on the tennis courts. I tried to remember who she was a guest of, but couldn’t remember her mentioning a name. After an hour of searching, I found Monte, the man who knew all, sitting at his desk sipping coffee from a white mug with the Club D logo on the side.
“Morning,” he said cheerfully when he saw me at the door. I knew that Monte probably hadn’t slept a wink, but you’d never know it to look at him. He looked fresh as a daisy in his tennis whites. “Need something?”
“Yeah, I’m trying to locate a guest,” I said, leaning against the door frame. “She said she was here with one of our employees last night.”
“A female guest?” Monte said, his tanned forehead cutting into a frown. “We don’t get too many female visitors.”
I smiled and sat down across from him. “That’s why it will be easy for you to tell me who she was and where she went. I’ve looked everywhere and can’t find her, so I need to know who she was a guest of.”
Monte blinked at me for a moment, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “I’m not aware that we had a female guest last night, Isaac,” he said, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest, giving me the eye like he thought I might be drunk. “We had several new girls start last night. Maybe she was one of them?”
“Nope, she was not an employee,” I said, head shaking. “She said she was a guest of one of the girls.”
“Which girl?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Maybe you just thought she was a guest.” He gave me a scolding smile. “You were putting them down pretty good at the bar last night.”
“I wasn’t that drunk,” I said. I leaned in toward the desk and lowered my voice. “Monte, what aren’t you telling me?”
I’d never seen Monte look defensive before. Maybe because he’d never lied to me before. “I’m not not telling you anything,” he said. “There were no female guests here last night. Trust me, I’d know if there was.”
“Monte, who was she?”
He held out his hands like he had nothing to hide. “Isaac, honestly, I have no idea what or who you’re talking about. We had no female guests last night.” He turned his chair toward the computer sitting on a stand beside his desk. “If it makes you feel any better, I can pull up the roster of everyone who was on the property last night. Did you get her name?”
“Yes, of course,” I snorted. “Uh… Amanda…”
“Amanda what?”
“Ross. Amanda Ross. Black hair. Blue eyes. Great tits. Nice ass.”
“I don’t need a description,” he said with a smile.
I held my breath as I watched his long fingers dance across the keys. I got the feeling that something odd was going on, like a joke was being played on me. But that couldn’t be the case. Monte Lemon did not play jokes.
He shook his head at the computer screen. “Nope. There was no Amanda Ross here last night. No one named Amanda or Ross, at all. Employee, guest, or otherwise.”
“You’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Monte, I did not imagine her,” I said.
“Maybe not, kid,” he said, picking up his coffee cup and cradling it between his hands. “But I’m telling you there were no females guests here last night. And no one named Amanda Ross.”
* * *
I went into the dining hall and took a table by the front windows after I left Monte’s office. A waitress brought me a cup of coffee and I ordered a short stack of pancakes. I stared out the window at the bright blue sky, trying to remember every detail about Amanda Ross, not just her body and what she could do with it, but her words, things she might have said that would tell me who the fuck she was.
Was Monte right?
Was Amanda Ross simply a figment of my imagination?
Had I been with another girl and just got the names confused?
I tried to picture her face. Shit. She never took the fucking mask off. I woke up with the smell of her pussy on my cock and the taste of her lips on my tongue, but if she walked into the room at that moment would I even recognize her?
“Hey, asshole, what did you do?”
I glanced around to find a striking brunette with tired eyes and a pissed off look on her dark face sliding into the chair across the table from me. I recognized her as one of the night shift waitresses. Serena something or other.
I blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”
“I said what did you do, asshole?”
She looked sleepy and pissed, which probably made her think it was alright to call her boss an asshole. Her eyebrows formed a deep vee over her brown eyes. Her lips were curled into a snarl. That’s one thing my money had never been able to protect me from; a hungover, pissed off woman.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “What did I do?”
She wiggled a stiff finger at me. “I saw you leave the party last night with my friend and when I got back to our room this morning she was gone! She left a note that she’d see me back in the city on Monday. I don’t give a fuck how much money you have, Mr. Hanson. Nobody shits on my friend and gets away with it. Now, what the fuck did you do to her?”
“Hold on a second,” I said, my hands up defensively between us. “Was your friend’s name Amanda Ross?”
She gave me a confused look. “What? No. It’s Amy Rossetti.”
My mouth literally dropped open. “Amy Rossetti… the consultant?”
The color drained from her face. She licked her lips. I could almost hear the gears grinding to a halt inside her pretty head. “Um…”
“Serena, I need a favor,” I said with a smile. I took out my cellphone and slid it across the table to her. “I need you to enter Amy Rossetti’s phone number and address into my phone.”
She glanced down at the phone as if she had never seen one before. She put her hands in her lap and leaned back from the table. I saw her swallow hard and when she looked back up, there was a look of “oh shit” in her eyes.
She asked, “Why do you need Amy’s information?”
“Because that’s the only way this asshole will let you keep your job,” I said with a smile. “And Miss Rossetti has a lot of explaining to do.”