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making good on Tom’s promise—which pretty much left Ty high and dry.
    His phone buzzed again. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. Her last three messages had demanded a face-to-face that he’d been avoiding for days. He’d stalled in the hope of getting his shit together, but no viable prospects had yet surfaced. Although he’d rather be skinned alive and hung by the balls than continue working for Monica, he also didn’t want to go back to ranching in Oklahoma. Too many bad memories resided there—along with his ex.
    Ty entered the elevator mumbling curses, jammed the button three times, and then gave the steel door a solid kick with his boot. He followed with another just for good measure. He was his own man, dammit, not some lackey at her beck and call. He wasn’t used to answering to anybody but Tom. And Tom had trusted him. Monica didn’t. Although he’d managed to ignore her summons for the past forty-eight hours, he couldn’t put this off any longer. The time of reckoning was at hand.
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    Monica massaged her temples with a groan. She was exhausted after two sleepless weeks and her head throbbed unbearably even after four Excedrins. Although Tom had regained consciousness, and the neurologist had declared him out of imminent danger, he still faced months of rehabilitation. It was unlikely he’d ever speak again and his right side paralysis would severely limit his mobility. On top of that, the doctors had warned that even with prophylactic medications he was still at risk for a repeat stroke, especially in the first year. Her heart ached that he’d never be the same man.
    On top of her concerns for Tom, she was also depressed for herself. She’d struggled for six years to earn a place of respect in the New York financial world, but now it seemed she had no choice but to walk away from it all. It was still hard to comprehend the unexpected turn her life had taken—hotshot investment banker one day, and the next the acting CEO of a floundering Las Vegas hotel catering to hicks!
    She’d briefly debated hiring a private nursing team for Tom and heading back to New York, but she just couldn’t abandon him like that. Not when he’d made such an effort to become part of her life. Only Tom had ever given her a sense of family. Sure, he was proud of her achievement, but she was more than that to him. Why else would he have adopted her months after her eighteenth birthday? He was the only one who’d ever genuinely cared about her.
    Her mother had been only too eager to palm her off on nannies and then ship her off to boarding school. She’d only reappeared in Monica’s life because of Evan. Monica still hadn’t dared break the news to her social-climbing mother about their split. That call would only induce the migraine she was barely holding at bay. She probably should make the call, but Vivian would hardly care about Tom.
    She glared at the mountain of financial records the cowboy had dumped on her desk and then flicked a glance at her diamond-bezel Tag Heuer Aquaracer. He was late. She’d been trying to meet with him for the past three days, but he’d avoided all contact with her after delivering the reports. No wonder. It hadn’t taken long to decide what to do with the hotel after she saw the state of the financials. The only logical move was to unload it.
    Monica snatched up her phone and then threw it back down again. She’d texted him several times already, but he hadn’t picked up her calls or answered her texts. Now he was fifteen minutes late.
    She inhaled, counted to ten, and then exhaled with a huff of exasperation. Was this just some passive-aggressive strategy to unsettle her? Maybe. Then again, she was probably giving Ty Morgan way too much credit—the dumb cowboy probably didn’t know how to tell time.
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    Ty stepped off the elevator and made his way to her office, his booted feet