LITMIR.BIZ

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reporter didn’t come to you for a comment? Because she sure didn’t call me.”

      “I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Locke. It came out of nowhere.”

      Nowhere. Sawyer suspected the likely origin of this story, and it didn’t sit well with him at all. It never did. He left his laptop bag on his desk and wandered to his office window atop the four-story building he’d renovated when he started his real estate development firm five years ago. No high-rise for him. Too much like his dad. Down below, the trees lining the street were turning a rich shade of red impossible to ignore. He’d been staring at the trees off and on for three days now—a near match for the hair of a woman he couldn’t seem to forget. He’d had his share of one-night stands, but Kendall...well, he was having a terrible time getting her out of his head.

      The changing leaves also meant December would be here soon, and that meant there could be no more disruptions on the hotel renovations. A gala New Year’s Eve grand reopening cannot be late or rescheduled. “I need to know what you’re going to do about this. We have to fight back.”

      “In your case, I think it’s best if we ignore it and let the story take its natural course.”

      For nearly a year, Sawyer had kept his frustration under wraps. There was too much money on the line, too many people watching and waiting for him to fail. Right now neither being calm nor collected was on the table. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to ignore negative publicity.” Inaction was an unfamiliar notion for Sawyer. He never sat on his hands.

      “Perhaps we need to make a change, Mr. Locke. Maybe we’re no longer the right firm for you.”

      Dammit. Sawyer knew that tone, that tentative tremble in a person’s voice. That was the sound of someone who’d been threatened or bought off by his father. This had happened before. It would likely happen again. “Perfect, then. You’re fired.”

      “Mr. Locke?”

      “Our retainer takes us through March. Bill me the balance and we’ll be done.” He hung up, stopping short of telling his now former public relations director to say hi to his dad. “Lily,” Sawyer called as his brother’s admin walked by his office. “Is Noah in yet?”

      She leaned into view, a generous grin on her face. She was always so upbeat. “He’s unpacking his things. Got stuck in traffic.”

      “Has he seen the paper?”

      “Not sure.”

      “I need to speak to him. Now.” He cringed at the demand in his voice. It wasn’t Lily’s fault everything was falling apart. “Please.”

      “Of course, Mr. Locke.”

      He stalked back to his desk and scanned the newspaper again.

      Sources say Sawyer and Noah Locke are millions over budget and chronically behind schedule.

      “Sources? Oh, I’ll tell you the damn source,” he mumbled. “And none of this is true.”

      Much of the Locke family is embarrassed by the hotel. Sawyer and Noah Locke are reportedly pursuing the futile project in direct opposition to their father’s wishes.

      An exasperated laugh rushed past his lips. Everything Sawyer did was in direct opposition to his father. He couldn’t help it. They were as different as two people could be, and the more distance Sawyer tried to keep, the more his father interfered, precisely why James Locke was the most likely culprit when it came to this bad publicity. Their father had fought Sawyer and Noah every step of the way on the Grand Legacy project. Their dad wanted the hotel razed. It had been a black mark on the family name for too long. Enough was enough, he’d said. Sawyer disagreed, strongly. Luckily, the original hotel in his family’s hotel empire was his. And it was nobody’s call but his.

      After countless arguments, the worst of which had come nearly two years ago on Christmas Day when Sawyer had made it crystal clear he was not going to back down, their father had gone silent on the subject of the Grand Legacy. He refused to speak with his son about it, and Sawyer wasn’t eager to resume the conversation. Still, his father’s quiet was never good. Sawyer couldn’t prove it, but he was certain his dad was behind every problem they’d encountered during renovation: subcontractors not showing up, custom orders disappearing from the site. The power and water going off—more than once. It was never-ending, tiresome and costing a ridiculous amount of money.

      Noah strolled into Sawyer’s office, coffee cup in hand. “You rang?” Even in an expensive suit, his younger brother always looked the part of affable All-American guy, and today was no different. Tall and trim, big grin, annoyingly perfect hair. Sawyer had recently discovered a few stray grays mixed in with the dark brown that matched Noah’s. At thirty-two, he was too young for that, but the struggle with his dad and the hotel was making him old before his time.

      Sawyer pushed the paper across his desk. “I hate to ruin your good mood, but you have to read this.”

      Noah set down his cup and planted his hands on the desk, surveying the damage. “Are you kidding me?” He flipped to the back page. “These pictures are terrible. They’re completely misleading. Of course the lobby is a disaster. It’s the last phase of the project.”

      “That’s what Dad does, isn’t it? He’s all about misleading. You know he’s behind this.” If only their dad wasn’t several years into his marriage to his fourth wife. He tended to get bored by now, and when he didn’t have “love” to distract him, he occupied himself by meddling. Sawyer would never wish for his dad to get divorced and find wife number five, but the thought had crossed his mind. “We can’t let people think the hotel is a hot mess. The problem is we no longer have a PR firm. I just fired them. I’m pretty sure Dad got to them.”

      Noah took a seat and ran his hand through his hair. “We need publicity, Sawyer. There’s no interest surrounding the reopening without it. Who’s going to coordinate the media for the opening gala? Are you going to do it? I’m not going to do it.”

      “I hear you.”

      “We need to get on it today. If Dad is behind this, he’s only going to escalate the closer we get to reopening.”

      Sawyer sat back in his chair, nodding. Their father wasn’t going to let this go. He would never get over the fact that Sawyer’s great-grandfather had willed the hotel to him, bypassing their dad and the family’s holding company. James Locke’s anger over Sawyer’s control of the building went beyond what was reasonable. So much so that Sawyer was sure there was something else behind it. He’d spent much of the last fifteen years trying to figure it out, but he’d never come close to unearthing the secret. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to let him stop us.”

      “I’d pick a PR firm myself, but you’d never let me make the call anyway.”

      Sawyer shrugged. “It is my hotel.”

      “Believe me. I know. If it wasn’t, we wouldn’t have this problem in the first place.” Noah rose from his seat and knocked his knuckle on Sawyer’s desk. “Do you have somebody in mind?”

      Only one firm was a real possibility. “Sloan PR. They were a very close second when we started this. I made the wrong call, apparently.”

      “I trust you.”

      Noah left and Sawyer wasted no time opening his laptop and pulling up the Sloan PR website. It’d been over a year since he’d met with them and he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of the company president. Too many bits of information rolling around in his head these days...most of it not good. The site loaded and he clicked on “Our Team.”

      At the top of the page was a group photo of five or six people. He didn’t see faces. He was too distracted by a shock of red hair. He leaned closer to the screen, squinting. Had the leaves on the trees led him to a mirage? Is that...Kendall? It looked like her. It really did. He scrolled down to individual photos of the team members.

      There she was. Kendall Ross, Senior Director, Public Relations.

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