The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3)

by Piper Sheldon

  “Come in,” Vincent said.

  I pushed open the door to find the small office was strewn with papers and half-open boxes stacked haphazardly in the corner.

  “Hello, Mr. Debono. We had an appointment,” I said from the doorway.

  He pushed my request to meet back all week. We were to discuss the potential networking opportunities I secured during the hospitality conference. I don’t know that he even had a chance to look at the presentation from my trip, highlighting the most promising prospects.

  “Please come in,” he said.

  Vincent stood next to a tall cabinet rifling through some folders. He was an inch or two shorter than me, especially in my heels, but his presence was commanding. He was an attractive man, maybe mid-forties, with short cropped hair and thick black-framed glasses. His crisp white shirt was rolled up revealing pretty defined forearms. The gray vest over his shirt was as perfectly tailored as his pants. His dark eyebrows always seemed full of judgment, but I was the last person to blame someone for the impressions their face made. He was from New York and money leaked off him like sap on bark.

  “Roxanne Kincaid. I’m sorry we haven’t had much time to meet yet,” he said with a strong Yankee accent as he made his way to his desk. Reaching out to shake my hand, he asked, “What can I do for you?” then gestured for me to sit.

  Now, I wasn’t one for a ton of small talk, but this was the South, you didn’t just jump right into things. I had a plan of how this talk was going to go. First I’d made small talk and then oh so casually remind him of all the good I did at the conference, before pitching my ideas for bringing in more business, like this weekend’s drive-in event. Finally, I’d get to the meat-and-potatoes part of the conversation and suggest my promotion to the events coordinator, a new and official position filled by yours truly. I was prepared but his direct question had me feeling like I was weeble wobblin’.

  But I wouldn’t fall down.

  I cleared my throat, crossed my ankles, and clasped my hands in my lap. If he wanted direct, I could be direct.

  “I want to be promoted to the position of events coordinator.”

  His thick eyebrows shot up behind his glasses before they smoothed back down, the rest of his face expressionless. He glanced to the stacks of paper on the desk, looking for something. “Events coordinator?”

  “It would be a new title and position for the Lodge but a needed one,” I explained.

  “Remind me of your qualifications,” he said flatly.

  “I’ve been working at the Lodge over four years. I started in housekeeping, was promoted to the front desk within the year. Diane Donner encouraged me to get a degree online for hospitality management.”

  Or as I called it, hostility management. I wasn’t about to tell him that it was an online degree from the local Merryville community college. I could only imagine what Ivy League university he went to. Fighting to keep my hands from fidgeting and maintaining eye contact, I continued. “I’ve been unofficially running all the weddings and graduation parties, even as I continued to be the front desk lead. But I-I think—” I clenched my fists and took a deep breath. “My talent would be more beneficial running the events full-time.”

  It was the speech I rehearsed all week. No weak verbs, no hesitation. I was the best candidate for this position.

  “I don’t disagree that event coordination is more than one person’s full-time job.” He leaned back in the leather office chair and it squeaked. “Probably an entire team if we get it to the point where Diane wants it.” He frowned. “Wanted it.”

  Hope started to loosen the tightness in my chest.

  “But, unfortunately, with the way things are right now, I can’t make any major decisions. I need to talk with Auclair when he’s not tied up in cow business.” He said the last part quietly like he couldn’t believe the small-town antics he had to deal with. “Let me run it by some people. See how you work with the staff, things like that.”

  The collar of my knockoff suit itched my throat. This close he could probably tell that my Burberry suit jacket was actually a Burdberry that I bought out of the back of a van a year ago. It was a hair too snug, but as long as I didn’t slouch or breathe too deep, I was fine. I was just used to people disappointing me, and preferred to plan events by myself. That was why I wanted to do it full-time. Solo.

  “I’ve been running events for a while now,” I said. “I coordinated tonight’s event at the drive-in not only to show hotel guests to the charm of Green Valley, but to interact with the community and generate more local business.”

  I couldn’t believe the words came out so smoothly.

  Mr. Debono studied me closely. I wondered if I should try to smile. People tended to like that but Gretchen told me once my forced smiles looked like a snarl and that it was better to embrace my neutral expression.

  “I appreciate your directness, Ms. Kincaid. Many people down here tend to talk in circles before getting to the point and I’m never sure where I stand,” he said evenly, not smiling either.

  He was as hard to read as a French dictionary, but at least we had that in common.

  “So I’ll be direct with you,” he said. “I have no doubt that Diane trusted you. You wouldn’t be doing all this if she hadn’t. But I’m not comfortable giving you a promotion even one that you may very well deserve. I’m in a tricky spot with the new responsibilities thrust upon me. I can’t make any major decisions without the temporary board’s approval.”

  Perhaps my face played out the dread coiling in me because he softened his features and added, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll observe you over the next few weeks, see how you work with the clients and the staff and then reconsider your promotion. I’m slowly making my way through years of emails in the Lodge’s main account. I’ll search your name and see what Diane had to say about you.”

  I felt my chest rising and falling quickly, hoping it didn’t give me away. I could easily prove myself. I’d handled mothers of the brides with food poisoning and raucous bachelorette parties at two a.m. I could handle whatever life threw at me. I was a professional, dammit. I was worthy. I’d worked my ass off. I wanted to scream but I was a professional now. We only screamed internally.

  “That sounds fair,” I said coolly.

  “Starting with tonight. I’ll accompany you to the movie event. See how you handle things. It would be good for me to meet more of the locals anyway. I have no idea how long I’ll be here.” He pushed up his thick frames to pinch the area between his eyes.

  “Tonight,” I repeated, finding my bearings but feeling like a baboon on roller skates.

  An icy sort of dread tingled at the base of my spine though I couldn’t be sure why. Maybe the prospect of having every single one of my actions scrutinized. I already felt uncomfortable in my skin half the time, too afraid to talk to strangers and expose my country background. But I did have one advantage in this situation: Vincent Debono knew me only as Roxanne Kincaid. He had no idea of my past, all I had to do was show him the professional that I was and everything would be fine. What was another few weeks?

  He blinked at me expectantly.

  “The shuttle will be leaving here to take the guests at eight p.m.,” I said.

  “Perfect. Then we can discuss more about how the conference went on the way over. I skimmed your presentation and found it very informative. A lot of potential for growth.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “That reminds me …” he started and then sifted the mess of papers on his desk.

  Wherever Diane Donner was, she was shuddering at the chaos.

  “One of the companies you mentioned in the presentation reached out for a meeting with us,” he said, “but the timing hasn’t worked out. The corporate adventure company.”

  My heart skipped a beat—that was one of the companies from Denver I had been most excited about. But then like a damn bursting after a spring storm, all the other thoughts I’d been pushing down from that weekend flooded t
hrough me. Sanders with his blue eyes and smiles that made my knees tingle. The dancing. The talking. The feeling.

  I shoved them deep into a closet in my mind and slammed the lid.

  “Outside the Box?” I asked tentatively.

  He held up a finger. “Yes, that’s the one.”

  This conversation was not going at all like I planned. I’d rehearsed every possible way it could go but nothing had gone right since I entered Vincent’s office. Why had they been talking? Was this a man-to-man thing? Was I not good enough? Quickly, I shut those thoughts down. I had spent hours talking to William. He wouldn’t go over my head.

  “You talked with William Goin?” I asked.

  “No.” Vincent pressed a finger to his lips as he thought. “That doesn’t sound right. I wrote it down somewhere.”

  I fought to keep a frown from screwing up my features. His glasses dropped back in place as he continued to search through the mess on his desk.

  “They want to talk on the phone?” I felt my tongue grow thick with frustration, my drawl slurring my words.

  “No. He’s here,” he said.

  “Here? In Green Valley?” I asked. That didn’t make any sense. William and I had planned to speak next week, when I thought I would be in my new role.

  He nodded distractedly, still searching the papers on his desk. “Though he didn’t say why,” he mumbled lost in thought.

  I shook my head, not understanding. “But it wasn’t William? Soft-spoken, nice guy?”

  “Soft-spoken? Hardly.” Vincent cocked his head. “This guy was definitely—”

  Vincent’s desk phone rang. He exhaled sharply with frustration and held up a finger. “This thing rings nonstop. Sorry, hang on.”

  As he picked up the phone, I felt the world spinning out around me. If not William, then who? And why was he here in Green Valley? I tried not to think the worst but my mind was already sprinting toward the danger zone. Maybe William had shown up to Carillo’s that night. Maybe he had seen me dancing like a ho on some guy and decided I wasn’t worth talking to.

  No. I pushed the thoughts away.

  He covered the mouthpiece. “Listen, I have to take this. I’ll schedule a meeting for us next week to talk more. And I look forward to tonight,” he said and flashed a quick, polite smile.

  I nodded numbly as I got to my feet. I snuck quietly out of his office as he spoke in brisk bluntness to whoever was on the phone.

  There was no need to panic. He probably got the companies mixed up after reading through my presentation. There was no need to assume the worst. But assuming the worst was my favorite pastime. You can’t be blindsided by disappointment if you prepared for all the worst-possible scenarios.

  I had been so sure I’d walk out with a new title and my very own office. I’d been so close, worked so hard these past years. I fought the burning in my eyes, fought that voice that told me I was starting all over from square one by clenching my fists until my nails dug into my palms.

  No, I repeated to myself. I could do this. I’d handled Wraiths, I’d rebounded from painful rejection resulting from a lifetime of bad decisions. The new Roxy had something to prove. I would show Vincent Debono that I was worthy of that promotion and nothing would stop me. Nothing.

  Chapter 7

  Sanders

  I hadn’t planned to go out. I was content to stay in and catch up on work, but after wandering the Lodge and three different employees mentioned the movie night at the old drive-in, I figured this must be some sort of historic event in Green Valley. It would give me a chance to get out and meet the locals. And I was always up for some research.

  There was a shuttle taking Lodge guests up but I decided the two-mile walk would be good for all my chaotic energy I needed to burn. I was too wound up. My skin felt too tight, and if I sat still for too long, my brain started to dwell on things I didn’t want to think about.

  I hadn’t found Roxy yet. I’d talked to a manager a bit about the Lodge cooperating with Outside the Box, but he seemed a bit distracted. Skip told me Roxy was handling the events side of things and I didn’t want to seem like I was going over her head. I suggested to Vincent that all three of us should meet but I also didn’t want that to be the first time I saw her. This wasn’t an ambush, it was a reunion. I needed to handle this whole situation with tact as I had acted without an actual plan. I suspected that Skip would never equate me with tact, but alas, I was trying to turn over a new leaf. The fresh Tennessee air was inspiring me.

  I all but kicked my heels as I sent Gretchen a text asking for details about the movie night. She responded almost immediately with explicit instructions on how to get there, what weather to expect, and the best place to park to see the screen. I dressed in my usual uniform of khaki cargos, hiking boots, and a Henley—blue to make my eyes pop—having decided anything more would look like I was trying too hard. I might have messed with my hair a solid ten minutes so that it looked tousled but un-styled.

  The single-lane highway leading to the drive-in wasn’t conducive to walking I soon discovered. I balanced along a thin strip of dirt at the edge of the asphalt surrounded by a dense forest on either side. Some corners didn’t even allow for a shoulder and I had to walk on the road. I kept my ears pricked for the sound of motors so I could jump to the side as needed. The sun was just setting and I contemplated the journey home when it would be pitch-black—because who needed streetlights on windy backroads? I would have to see if I could hitch a ride or risk becoming roadkill.

  The night was warm and sticky, such a far cry from the dry air of the mountains back in Denver. The sweet, earthy smell was intoxicating. These mountains didn’t have the grandeur of the Rockies, but there was something heady and mysterious about them. These were the mountains that held ghosts and secrets.

  Also, mozzies. Mozzies everywhere. Only five minutes into my walk and already the little bloodsuckers were eating me alive. Walking may have been a poor decision and I was beginning to understand why there were no footpaths anywhere. I thought I left the worst of nature’s creatures behind in Australia. The worst I’d found in Denver were unironic hipsters.

  The map made it look like the theater was just up the road, but the darker it grew and the more the mosquitoes tried to eat me, it felt like miles and hours had passed. Maybe I should have taken the shuttle with the others.

  Breaks squeaked as a car slowed to idle alongside me. “Hey. You tryna get run over?” Gretchen LaRoe called out to me from her window.

  I grinned. “In some countries, call me crazy, they have these things called footpaths so people can walk places.”

  “Crazy.” She popped the locks. “Get in.”

  Noting the passenger seat was already taken by a dark-haired woman, I climbed into the seat behind Gretchen and said, “I’m not supposed to get in the car with strangers.”

  “Your mother tell you that?” she asked.

  “She did. She also said redheads were trouble.”

  “Your mother sounds wise,” the dark-haired woman said.

  The typical jolt at the mention of my mum struck a chord but I had learned to hide the reaction over the years. I had also definitely learned not to bring her death up unless I wanted to face the awkward pitying faces. I forced a grin and extended my hand. “She was.”

  The passenger was strikingly beautiful with emerald eyes and short jet-black hair. She turned around to shake my proffered hand. “I’m Suzie Samuels.”

  “Sanders Olsson. Pleasure to meet you.”

  “I like your accent,” she said.

  “I like yours too.” My typical response.

  Suzie turned to Gretchen. “Old friends?”

  “Nah, we just met the other day when I drove him into town. He’s gonna be here for a bit for work. I thought he should get to know the locals.”

  Suzie said, “Ah,” and gave her friend a look that could only be described as What exactly are you up to? Which was exactly the look I’d felt myself giving during my own brief interacti
ons with the redhead. I was starting to understand that Gretchen LaRoe didn’t do anything without thinking four steps ahead.

  After only another two minutes of driving, we slowed onto a turnoff I would have never thought was an actual road. Just a less dense area of forest. I probably would have made the walk but was not so secretly glad for the rescue.

  “I don’t suppose I could hitch a lift back later?” I asked with no shame at all. “These roads are treacherous at night, I imagine.”

  “I’m sure we can work something out,” Gretchen said.

  Her friend shot her another suspicious look.

  “This movie isn’t some deviant thing is it? It’s starting to feel like the start to a bad slasher flick. Two way too beautiful women. Scary backroad in the middle of nowhere. I better check my phone for signal. The second I hear banjo music, I’m running for it.” I teased but, honestly, what had I gotten myself into?

  The two women threw their heads back and laughed.

  Not encouraging to say the least.

  The pseudo-road opened up to a field filled with about fifty cars. On the farthest edge, backed up against the dense forest, was a large screen propped up on wooden stilts that were peeling paint. A few food trucks lined the perimeter and people near the front picnicked on blankets or out of the back of their cars. The families on blankets relieved me of any weird stress I’d been feeling.

  “See, we’re here. No masked murderers,” Gretchen said.

  “Not yet,” I mumbled.

  “Why don’t we get out and walk around a little. Oh, Patty is here. I wanna see if they’re still doing open mic night.”

  “I’m not getting out of this car.” I scratched at a new bump on my neck. “The mozzies are eating me alive out there.”

  “Mozzies?” Suzie asked.

  “Mosquitoes,” I explained. “I’m too sweet. I can’t help it.”

  Gretchen rolled her eyes and Suzie raised an eyebrow. My usual charm fell a little flat on these two. Maybe I was off my game. I so desperately wanted to ask if they knew Roxy Kincaid but worried about showing my hand. I glanced around the field for the shuttle bus that carted over the Lodge guests. If she was running this event …