Ada Bellamy looked up from her phone, drawing her perfect blonde eyebrows together in a little frown. The lodge’s pinnacle suite was only for the select. Its views of the virgin mountain and its white slopes reserved for those with the tastes to appreciate them. The course giggling coming from the barroom had no place here.
Two women in year old Gucci hung themselves on the bar. Someone, his back to her in an acceptable Burberry jacket, was buying them drinks. Ada’s lips thinned to a line, even her kind could lapse in judgement.
The two nouveau riche stopped their braying when Ada slipped herself into their benefactor’s arm. “There you are.”
The man’s reaction was slow, caught between the women around him and what Ada suspected was not his first glass of whiskey. His cologne was too subtle to entirely hide the sour reek emanating from his skin. Ada flicked a glance down her nose at the interlopers before he could encourage them further. “The club is on the bottom floor.”
Their overly crimson lips gaped at her, until one of them found their voice “We–”
“Do you need someone to show you?” Ada interrupted. She snapped her fingers towards one of the thick-necked polyester suits hovering along the walls. The guard jerked to attention. Ada didn’t bother with pretense. “These women are lost, kindly show them downstairs.”
Everyone in the lounge watched as the two women were herded towards the door and the elevators outside. Ada ignored them, she wasn’t one for scenes, but it had to be done. Potential scandal averted, Ada looked up at the man who’d let the vermin in.
Like her, his features possessed a narrowness that displayed good breeding. His short gold hair and pale green eyes complemented a mouth currently set in rigid annoyance. No, Ada corrected, noting the hard vein disappearing into his collar, not annoyed, furious.
He loosed himself from her. “I do not enjoy meddling in my affairs.”
“And I do not enjoy affairs in my lounge.” Ada sniffed and leaned in front of him to give the bar staff a pointed look. In less than twenty seconds they placed a martini before her. Ada picked it up and sipped.
“Your lounge?” He set his back against the bar, still glaring down at her over sharp cheekbones “My father donates, pays his dues. Our guests are allowed here. ”
“Do you know who my father is?” She asked, smoothing her platinum hair over her shoulder of her sheath dress. Ada didn’t miss the look he drew up her narrow hips.
“Should I?” He asked.
“Well, you’re bringing parvenu to his lounge, so yes, you should.” Ada tapped the bar again and the staff set another glass of whiskey down for him. “He’s obsessed with the mountain, very intent on keeping it safe from millionaires, their tacky ski cottages, and their tacky wives too.”
The vein at his throat disappeared as he took the glass. He raised it to her, “My mistake then. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you and your father, Ms…?” He took a large drink.
He nodded. “I’m Dalton Orellio. Do let me know.”
Ada nodded and took her drink back to the window. She had a few ideas.
I am loyal thief to the Legal Theft Project. This week I have stolen the line “Do you know who my father is?” from Bek’s piece, The Truth, and written my own with it.