by Rita Hogan
After a full day of negotiations, the investor, Adler Cromwell, wouldn’t back down from his position. After dinner that night, Landon went back to his hotel room and worked up the numbers and every possible option. At 2 a.m., he knocked on his sister’s room in the suite they shared at their London hotel.
He heard a mumbled, “Come in.”
“I’ve figured it out, Natasha.”
Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed as he began sharing his counter offer.
The experienced executive had come up with the same plan hours ago but refrained from saying anything, hoping her brother would figure it out on his own.
When he was done speaking, she gave him a tired but brilliant smile. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” Natasha encouraged before lying back down to sleep.
The next morning, with all the pleasantries aside, Landon reconvened the negotiations.
“We greatly appreciate your interest in NLG Property Group, Mr. Cromwell, and consider it a privilege to partner with you; however, we are unable to agree to the percentage of return you are proposing.” Taking a brief pause, Landon continued. “We have one final offer to make. In considering this offer, we would ask that you keep in mind our success rate in returns. Should you turn down our proposal, we can only wish you the best of luck in whatever endeavors you choose. We hope the return on your money will be as probable as ours.”
A slow smile spread across Adler Cromwell’s face. He looked at his assistant and said, “Awfully cocky, isn’t he?” He looked back at Landon and nodded, signaling him to continue.
“If you choose to invest in our new property, we will give you our standard rate of return. In exchange, we will offer you exclusivity on an addition we are doing to Casa Luxe, our premier property in Costa Rica.” Landon reached inside his file folder, removing colorful brochures of the resort and handed it Cromwell. “Construction is slated to begin two months after the new resort in Rio is completed. In addition to exclusivity, we will give you a much higher rate of interest than we have ever given anyone.”
Not only was Cost Rica one of the hottest tourist destinations in Central America, Casa Luxe had the reputation of being the Jewel of the Americas. Luxury was ingrained in every tiny detail, and was the preferred getaway for the rich and famous.
Cromwell was definitely interested. “Do you have plans for the addition that we can review?”
“Absolutely. I have a presentation I can load in a moment.”
Landon had known well before the presentation was over that the deal was as good as accepted.
As they were leaving, Cromwell looked at Natasha. “You’ve trained him well, Ms. Arnaud.”
She smiled graciously at the older Englishman. “He’s a natural.”
Natasha’s brother truly was gifted for the family business. She was elated that he had found his place. He continued on the track of recovery, but there had always been one thing that worried her: his lack of interest in building close-knit relationships, except with his family, Gaston, and a few close friends. It was as if he insisted upon standing on the periphery of life, engaged physically and mentally but disengaged emotionally. The few women he dated were great to be around until they wanted more.
As close as the two siblings were, Natasha refrained from asking him about his inability to connect, until one day shortly after Isabella had been born.
Desiring to see his niece, Landon had come over to the house one night while Gaston was at the resort working. He sat in an overstuffed chair in his sister’s living room, cradling the tiny baby in his arms.
“I can’t get over how beautiful she is, Natasha.”
She loved seeing her child in her brother’s arms. He was very tender with her. “Do you want kids of your own, Landon?”
He looked up from the face of the sleeping infant to make eye contact with her. The expression in his eyes scared her. It was a countenance of loss, as if there were so many things he wanted but knew he would never have. It had made her sad to see such sorrow on her brother’s face.
Landon never answered, but simply returned his gaze to his niece.
“Does the thought of having children scare you because you’re afraid of taking your life someday? Do you continue to struggle at times, Landon?”
It was difficult for him to say what was in his heart, yet he didn’t want his sister to worry. “I do struggle with the thoughts on occasion.” A flash of concern crossed Natasha’s face. “Please don’t worry; I’ll never go through with it again. You have to believe me,” he pleaded.
Nodding, she pressed further. “Why do you hold back, Landon? I’m not talking about with me, but others. You have much to offer. You would make someone truly happy.”
“I can’t forget.” The reply was simple and haunting.
At the puzzled look on his sister’s face, he shared with her for the first time about Olivia Nelson.
He told her about the moment between Celeste Peters and Shannon Able that had caused his very character to change. Landon described Olivia’s friendship with the awkward girl and the summer he fell in love with the kind and beautiful Olivia Nelson. Then he told Natasha about the conversation he had with Jacob, two weeks before he died.
“Jacob had been right about me. If the roles had been reversed and it had been you, I would have done the same thing. I wasn’t mature enough to accept what he said and prove him wrong. Instead, I let my anger get the best of me.” Unable to look at his sister any longer because of the emotions he felt, he turned his eyes upon his niece. “I lost everything and I have nothing left to give.”
Natasha stood up from the couch and perched herself on the arm of Landon’s chair, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Do you still love Olivia?”
He kept his head down, gazing at Isabella. “Part of me will always love her. I’m forever connected to her in such a tragic way. Part of my love for her is the ache I feel because of the irrevocable pain I have caused her. It’s bonded me to her, in a way that can never fully be severed.”
Touching her brother’s cheek so that he would look at her, she admonished. “I never thought much about it until I had Isabel. I see you with her and I know what you desire. Don’t shortchange yourself because of something you can never undo. You are too gracious for your own good, Landon Gray. I want to meet my own nieces and nephews someday. You know I will bug you about it until I get what I want, don’t you?”
Landon laughed at his sister’s words. She always managed to get what she wanted. Her wants were the good and selfless kind.
* * *
Natasha had seen a flash of hope in her brother’s eyes that day. But four years later, the hope had dimmed and was barely detectable except when he was with her children. Only then did she see a glimmer of it.
Gaston sat beside his wife, reaching for her hand. “You are deep in thought, mon amour.”
A sense of melancholy filled her spirit. She moved to rest her head against her husband’s chest to hear his strong beating heart. The smell of his freshly showered skin filled her senses. With his arms around her, he gently caressed her.
“I have been thinking about the first time we kissed.” She sighed.
Natasha felt Gaston’s hand go still. “And that has made you sad?”
She laughed. “Of course not. Thinking about us has made me sad for Landon. I’ve been worried about him all week. Something hasn’t been right with him since I saw him on Monday. I never told you about a conversation I had with him not too long after Isabella was born. I never knew until then that he had fallen in love with Jacob Nelson’s sister the summer before the accident.”
She told her husband the words Landon had spoken that day.
“His love for Olivia and the pain he feels because of what happened has held him prisoner all these years. He wants very much to be a father and to love someone, but he doesn’t feel like he’s worthy. I almost feel as if he’s punishing himself.”
“That is exactly what he’s doing, Natasha.”
She lift
ed her head from her husband’s chest to look at him, waiting for him to explain.
“He couldn’t possibly live his life, enjoying all the blessings it has to offer. How can he think about marrying and falling in love when he took away the possibility of the same from someone else?”
“It was an accident!” she exclaimed in an irritated voice. “You really don’t believe that my brother is justified in denying himself a full life?”
Gaston looked a little exasperated by the rise in his wife’s temper. “Are you really asking me that, Natasha?”
Her ire was replaced with a sheepish look. “No, Gaston. I’m sorry.” She stood up from the couch to pace the living room floor.
When she stopped to look at her husband again, there was grief in her eyes. “I have grown weary carrying all of this sadness I feel for Landon. I feel helpless at times and desperate at others, but I know I can’t fix this for him. It’s selfish of me to feel like I have this wonderful life, but there is this one dark spot that refuses to go away.”
Standing to hold his wife, Gaston kissed the side of her head. “It is selfish, but honest.”
He pulled away to look at her. “Do you remember our vows? ’In sickness, and in health; in good times and in bad.’ There is a reason we say those words. Life has a way of mixing in a measure of pain on occasion. Those promises remind us that no matter how many dark spots try to work their way into our existence, we still love. Those vows hold true even with Landon. They are unspoken, inherent commitments to those who share our blood. It won’t always be like this, chéri.”
Gaston kissed his wife, sharing the same sadness he felt for his brother-in-law and friend.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Olivia walked into her hotel room and noticed the ivory envelope right before she stepped on it. With her free hand, she reached down to pick up the heavy linen paper. Placing it on the cherry wood dining table, she put her camera equipment away before returning her attention to the message that had her curiosity piqued.
The first thing she noticed was the strong sturdy script of the writer. Brooke was emblazoned across the front. She sat in the chair and opened the envelope.
Hello Brooke,
I hope you are enjoying your stay. Please know if there is anything we can do to make your time here more pleasurable, you only need to ask.
I am also writing with an invitation to dinner this evening at seven. I have a business proposition I would like to discuss with you. If this is acceptable, I will meet you in the lobby. If not, please contact my assistant at the number listed below to decline.
Thank you for your consideration,
Best Regards,
Landon Gray
Olivia felt an odd sensation of elation and was puzzled by it. She decided the feelings were because perhaps Landon was showing an interest in her and the business proposition he spoke of was simply an excuse to be with her. Had she succeeded in capturing his attention?
Embracing the hope she felt, Olivia changed out of her sweats and Under Armour outdoor attire before stepping into the shower.
* * *
Landon looked at his watch. Brooke hadn’t called his assistant to decline so he was expecting her any moment. He looked toward the bank of elevators as she was exiting them into the lobby.
She was a very beautiful woman. What he noticed most about her was the serene, almost regal way in which she carried herself. At some point, he would ask her if she had trained to be a dancer, ballet perhaps.
Her smile touched something deep inside him.
“Good evening, Landon.”
“How are you, Brooke?”
“Well, and you?”
He smiled his response while handing her a package.
There was a look of surprise on her slightly upturned face. Her black shiny hair fell to the side at the movement.
“On my way to the lobby, I realized I was remiss in telling you we would be going into Bariloche for dinner.”
Landon, looked at her coatless figure. She wore a flared navy blue skirt with a wide-banded waist and a cropped grey angora sweater. Her legs were clad in opaque tights, and her feet were shod in red kitten heel pumps. He liked the height of her shoes. Most men seemed enamored with the stiletto heels that women wore today, but he wasn’t one of them. He much more appreciated the subtle feminine height of her classically designed footwear.
Brooke pulled out a black shawl from the package. It was a knit wrap made from the softest material she had ever felt.
“I stopped at the boutique to find something to keep you warm. I wasn’t sure what you would be wearing, so I chose black. I hope it will work.”
“It’s lovely, and wonderfully soft.” She pressed the supple fabric to her cheek, enjoying the way it felt.
Landon swallowed hard at the sight of her creamy smooth skin next to the dark plush material. He couldn’t help wondering what her cheek would feel like against his.
“My car should be warm, but let me help you put this on your shoulders.”
“Thank you.”
Under the portico of the resort entrance was a white, metallic, Maserati sedan. Landon opened the passenger door. With a light touch to Brooke’s elbow, he guided her into the warm, luxurious interior.
“It is warm in here,” she murmured as Landon put the car into drive. “So where are you taking me?”
“Dragonfly is the name of the restaurant. It’s located near Playa Bonita, one of the more popular beaches in Bariloche. It overlooks the water.”
“I should have brought my camera.” The comment was made mostly for herself.
After navigating around the bend, he looked briefly at Brooke. “If you like it, I can bring you back. Only on one condition.” The photographer met his gaze before he turned it back to the road. “When you meet our executive chef, Gaston, on the cruise, don’t tell him I took you to Dragonfly.”
Smiling at the secret game Landon was forcing her into, she replied, “You’ll have to tell me why before I make such a promise.”
“Gaston, who also happens to be my brother-in-law, is a food snob.”
Brooke laughed at the idea of a grown man being called a snob.
“You laugh, but he is and deservedly so. He took the last two restaurants he was with to three star Michelin ratings before coming to the Grand Vue. He thinks the food at Dragonfly is second rate and that the chef is obnoxious. The fact that the chef at Dragonfly is Irish makes it even worse. You see, my brother-in-law is French, and he is convinced that Ireland simply needs to focus on producing its exquisite beer, maintaining its beautiful country, and leave the creation of fine dishes to the French experts. He says the Irish are like kept women: they are beautiful to look at, but unable to maneuver around haute cuisine to save their lives.”
“Your brother-in-law sounds like an interesting man. I hate to guess what he’ll think of me when he discovers that I can barely cook an egg.”
Landon glanced at Brooke. “He’ll love you.” The words were said before he realized it. She turned away from him and focused on the road.
Wondering at her sudden quietness and wanting to put the awkward moment behind them, he told Brooke his opinion of Dragonfly. “I think the food is really good. It will never be as good as Gaston’s, but when I want something different, I enjoy the eclectic and very creative dishes the chef makes. I hope you will like it as well.” Landon had been right: Brooke appreciated the food immensely.
As they enjoyed the first course of braised swordfish collar with chorizo and clams, Landon told Brooke about the day Natasha almost killed Gaston with her bare hands, but instead fell in love.
Brooke took a sip of the recommended white wine. “I think it’s interesting that your brother-in-law was angry at your sister because of her hatred for French men, but he has his own prejudices about the Irish.”
Landon raised his glass. “Touché. Every time he grouses about Dragonfly, Natasha doesn’t hesitate to point out the same thing. Gaston is quick to turn the tables, re
minding her that her prejudices were about his character, while his is about natural-born ability: God created the French to cook and the Irish were created to make good beer.”
The pure and unadulterated laughter that escaped Brooke’s enticing mouth filled Landon with wonder. He didn’t care that her enthusiastic outburst had caused a few heads to turn in the quiet restaurant; the other patrons seemed to be smiling in response. He wanted more than anything to capture her laughter and to bottle it up in a golden box, able to open it any time he wished to hear it again.
When she managed to calm the happy sound, he couldn’t resist telling her how wonderful it was.
She smiled her thanks and then asked him an unexpected question. He didn’t know how to respond. “Do you laugh often, Landon?”
Nothing could have held back the cloud of sorrow that briefly flittered over his face, nor could he lie to her. “My family gives me much joy.” It isn’t always enough, though, he wanted to add, but chose not to.
The next course arrived in time to save him from divulging anything more. After a thorough explanation of the dish by the server, they sipped the wine that was paired with the succulent beef.
“Your note stated you have a business proposition for me. I’m assuming it has to do with my work as a photographer?”
Landon wasn’t ready to engage in a conversation about business. He wanted to continue talking about fine cuisine and elitist French men; he wanted to talk about her.
He had taken a bite of the Argentinian beef drizzled in the rosemary and lavender oil. “Wow! That is really good! Try a taste, while I talk shop. When I found out on Sunday you were a photographer, I looked up some of your work. You’re very talented.”
“Thank you,” Brooke said with a smile. “And you are not kidding—this is incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it. I have been thinking about our brochure for the cruise ship. It needs to be updated. Since you’re scheduled to be on the ship in the morning, I thought we could do a trade. I will reimburse you for the cost of the excursion in exchange for new photos.”
