Heated

“The actor?”


“Mmm. The list of people who have stayed here would make a gossip rag drool. Actors, royalty, even criminals.”

“Oh, really?” I said, working hard not to sound too amused. “Like who?”

“You ever heard of Francesco Nitto?”

“The Enforcer?”

He lifted his brows, then nodded with approval. “You know Chicago history.”

“I know about the Outfit,” I said, referring to Chicago’s infamous organized crime ring, the most famous leader of which was probably Al Capone. “Nitto stayed here?”

“Lived here,” Tyler said. “Kept his office and a suite of rooms. That was in the ’30s and ’40s. Later—” He cut himself off with a laugh. “Sorry. The Outfit is one of my obsessions.”

“It’s interesting stuff,” I said, filing that tidbit away for future reference. Not that it was very telling. All you had to do was look at Hollywood to know that most of the population was fascinated with organized crime.

“Architecture and real estate are my other obsessions,” he continued. “Put them together and I’m known to get carried away. The Drake is like a perfect storm. But that’s also one of the reasons I decided to stay here. This way,” he added, pushing open a door and revealing a hidden set of stairs. I eyed him curiously, but didn’t ask. And when he headed up the stairs, I obediently followed.

We emerged onto a landing for the next floor. As I followed him down the hall, I was going to ask why the elevator didn’t go this far, but he’d already unlocked the door to our destination and pushed it open. The moment I got a look inside that room—although the word “room” didn’t do it justice—all other thoughts left my head.

“Good god,” I said.

“Spectacular, isn’t it,” Tyler said, the appreciation clear in his voice.

“That pretty much sums it up.” The suite was decorated in shades of white and cream. The furniture looked old, and I assumed it had been selected to complement the hotel’s heritage. Or, for all I knew, maybe it was original. If so, it had been incredibly well-maintained.

Fresh flowers dotted all the surfaces. Artwork—mostly portraits and landscapes—hung in decorative groupings on the walls. Everything seemed rich and opulent, yet nothing seemed overdone.

“Wow,” I said.

Tyler nodded. “To be honest, it’s not my style. The architecture, yes. But my taste in furniture and interior design is more contemporary. But I can’t deny this works.”

“Yeah. It really does.” I stepped farther into the living area, trying not to be overwhelmed. Growing up, my dad’s idea of a fancy hotel for vacation was the Holiday Inn. And although my stepfather had money, I felt lucky if he remembered to give my mom cash for groceries.

Now I earned my own money, but I rarely had a reason to stay in a hotel, and when I did, I usually defaulted to the Holiday Inn. I was Daddy’s little girl, after all. And considering my skimpy cop paycheck, the price was right.

That’s not to say I hadn’t been in some pretty fancy apartments and hotel rooms. I worked homicide, and murder wasn’t picky about the price tag. But this room was beyond anything I’d ever seen. As far as I was concerned, I wasn’t standing in a hotel room at all. Instead, I’d been transported to an alternate universe.

I allowed myself one long, low whistle before turning to Tyler. “Let me guess. You’re really a foreign prince traveling incognito.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Nor would I want to be. I made my own way in the world. Family had very little to do with it.”

I heard the hard edge in his voice. “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to push a button.” I knew better than anyone that discussions of family could spiral down into unpleasant and unwanted territory.

I saw his chest rise and fall. “No, I’m sorry. My childhood should have been idyllic. It wasn’t.”

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