Chapter 2

Daniel

"Richard, what time is Mr. Martins expected to arrive?" I asked, the hotel manager.

"In about two hours, according to his assistant, sir," he answered, without looking up from the schedule in front of him.

I sighed, knowing that Mr. Martins was one of my least favorite clients. Although he was important to my business, he was also incredibly picky and difficult to please.

"Please ensure that everything goes smoothly while he's here. You know he's a difficult client, right? So make sure he's attended to impeccably and on time. And don't forget to let the kitchen know that he's a selective eater. We don't want to disappoint him," I emphasized to Richard.

"I understand my responsibilities, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked calmly, looking up at me.

"No, that's all. Thank you," I replied, heading out of the office.

Although I mainly resided in Los Angeles, I sometimes traveled to New York at least once in six months to oversee business operations. I rarely visited any of my hotels often but when important clients request my presence, I always had to make time and show up. Mr. Martins was one of those clients and even though I couldn't stand him, his business was essential so I just learn to ignore his cockiness and focus on his usefulness.

Walking through the vibrant lobby, my phone rang, and I groaned when I saw my mother's name on the screen.

Though it might sound weird, my birth mother, unfortunately, happened to be one of my least favorite people in the world. We don't have the typical mother-son relationship as we're not close and sometimes, I can hardly tolerate her words and actions. So, I always try to keep our conversations short and our interactions to a minimum, fortunately for me; she does the same.

"Hello, Mother," I greeted, immediately knowing she had a reason for calling.

"I know you’re busy, Daniel but I really need you to contact your brother. I spoke with him earlier, and I'm sure he's about to get himself in trouble again. You need to stop him before he does something ridiculous this time," she said, without preambles.

I couldn't say I was surprised as she had never called me without a reason. I already knew there was something she needed my help with because she hardly ever contacted me.

"Mother, you know Damien doesn't listen to me, right? If he's not taking your calls, then he certainly wouldn't take mine either," I replied, reminding her that my brother and I weren't close.

I wasn't close to most of my family members, except for my youngest sister with whom I spoke once in a while. The rest of my siblings were almost strangers to me, and we barely kept in touch except for specific occasions when one of them needed my help or when my mother made me reach out to them.

"You need to try to contact him and not just assume he won't pick up your call, Daniel. You know if he does anything negative, it'll affect our family name and your name too. You wouldn't want that, would you?" she hissed, trying to guilt-trip me.

Such manipulation tactics had never sat well with me. As someone who had built a career outside my family's reputation and was working hard to sustain it, I didn't appreciate my mother's attempts to threaten me to do something for her as it only made me even more determined to ignore her.

"Mother, Damien is old enough to make his life decisions. I can't keep trying to babysit him just because you can't control him and you also don't have to view everything he does as bad just because you don't agree with it. If he eventually does something ridiculous, it won't be my fault. so stop calling me for situations like this. I'm a busy person," I sternly said to her before hanging up the phone.

The next time she calls me, she's most probably going to remind me of the day I hung up on her but I could honestly care less because the last thing I had the energy to deal with was my crazy mother and my annoying little brother. I was just about to take a break and head back to my room to rest before Martins arrived when a masked woman suddenly approached me.

"Hi, good evening," she greeted.

"Excuse me, sir. I know this might sound strange, but could I possibly borrow your hat? It's important," she requested, not giving me a chance to respond to her greeting.

"Uh, may I ask why?" I asked, confused.

"I'm sorry, I can't explain right now, but it's really important. I promise I'm not a weirdo or anything like that," she assured and I found her even weirder.

"I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with…," I was about to reply but she was quick to cut me off.

"I understand it’s weird and I'm really sorry about this but it's really urgent. I promise to return it to you as soon as I can," she blurted out hurriedly and before I knew what was happening, she snatched my hat and ran off.

I didn't want to create a scene in the hotel, so I decided not to pursue her or send security after her. It wasn't worth attracting attention to myself. As I walked towards the elevator, hoping to get to my room without any more distractions, Richard showed up behind me and stopped me.

"Mr. Martin's plane has landed early, Sir. He'll be here in thirty minutes," he informed me and my mood immediately worsened.

All I wanted was to take a short break before handling Mr. Anderson's arrival, but it seemed like even that was impossible. As I made my way back to the room to prepare for his visit, Richard caught up with me.

"Excuse me, sir," he interrupted, "I forgot to mention that we need to replace the table setting for Mr. Martin's dietary restrictions. Can we replace it with an alternative option?" he asked.

I groaned, frustrated by the last-minute changes. "Yes, that's fine. Just make sure it's arranged before he arrives."

Once again, Richard assured me that everything would be taken care of, and I headed back to my room to change. Mr. Martin was a challenging person, and I did not doubt that he would find a way to test my patience throughout the evening.

"If he arrives before me, show him to his room first before taking him to the rooftop restaurant," I instructed Richard before leaving.

The evening was definitely shaping up to be a long one.