by Tia Wylder
I shrugged. “It’s not my fault that girls are always asking me to spend the night,” I said. “It’s just my charm.” I winked at Barnes, and he groaned.
“Nathan, I swear to god,” Barnes said, calling me by my last name like he always did when he meant business. “If you fuck this up—“
“I won’t,” I said quickly. “There’s no way.” With a sigh, I got to my feet and stretched, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. “Besides, I’m only going for a couple of days.”
Barnes frowned. “Isn’t there a hurricane or something?”
“A tropical storm,” I replied. “Way less dangerous. Rico said flying to Nassau wouldn’t even make him break a sweat.”
“Jesus, how much do you pay that man?”
I smirked. “I’m generous,” I said. “Don’t worry about that.”
Barnes nodded. “Just be careful,” he said. “Those islands, you know, they’re not always equipped to deal with shit like that. Didn’t a few people die the other week?”
“Yeah,” I said with a snort. “In Puerto Rico. No one cares about that country, Nassau is much nicer.” I smirked. “Trust me – I’ve been there before.”
“God,” Barnes groaned enviously, getting to his feet and looking out the window at the snowy Boston weather. “I’d kill to get away – even if there is a fucking hurricane coming right for me.”
I shrugged. “You can always come,” I replied. “I’m not taking anyone.”
Barnes laughed. “What, did Alexandra wise up and dump you?”
“Not exactly,” I said. I wasn’t about to tell Jack that Alexandra, my girlfriend of two weeks, had caught me mid-coitus with her stunning Russian roommate. “I just felt like a solo trip would be…more beneficial. After all, it’s not really a vacation. I’m meeting with shareholders the first day I’m there.”
“Still, at least it’ll be warm,” Barnes said. “The winters here always make me wonder why I never moved back to California.”
“Because it’s impossible to be a serious lawyer on the west coast,” I replied. “Everyone likes that stiff Boston upper lip of yours.”
Barnes groaned again. “Tell me about it,” he said. “I swear – if I get one more high-dollar divorce client, I could probably retire at forty.”
I winced. “I can’t believe I’m thirty-five,” I said, shaking my head. “It seems like yesterday that I was hauling you off the commons after a few too many keg stands.”
Barnes grinned. Despite the threads of silver in his brown hair, he still looked exactly the same as he did on the first day we’d met – as freshmen, at Lager College. Lager is a typical private liberal arts school – overly priced, mediocre in academics, and with a reputation that precedes it by a hundred yards. Barnes and I had sniffed each other out immediately, and we’d been best friends ever since. It wasn’t hard to believe that we’d gotten along so well: we were both from the same kind of family. Rich, greedy fathers with trophy-wife mothers and no siblings. After she’d had me, my mother told my father she was done with children because I’d come perilously close to ruining her closely-guarded waistline. According to her, that was the moment my father had started stepping out with high-dollar escorts. But if you ask me, my old man was a dog from the start.
That was just one of many things that Barnes and I had in common. We were both from old money families in upstate New York. He’d known he was going to be a lawyer since elementary school, much like I’d always known that I was going to inherit my father’s real estate development company. Dad started Trident Gold when he got his MBA, but I had taken the company to new heights when I took over right after college. Trident Gold had always been a luxury brand – my father saw seven new resorts build, in exotic locales around the world – but I’d doubled that, and I’d only been CEO for fourteen years.
Life was pretty fucking great.
“I know,” Barnes said, snapping me back to the present. “I can’t believe it, either.” He shook his head. “I feel exactly the same. But these damn wrinkles – I’m going to have to get injections again.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so vain,” I teased. “You get more work done than the girls I go out with!”
“Yeah, right,” Barnes replied sarcastically. “I’m guessing they go under the needle and knife just as much. The only difference is, of course, they wouldn’t admit as much to you.”
“Well, not like it matters,” I said with a grin. “I never date anyone for more than three months, anyway.
Barnes snickered. “And who’s fault is that?”
“I prefer it that way,” I said archly. “It’s not like I’ve ever wanted someone hanging around for longer than that, anyway.”
“You’re such a dog,” Barnes said, but his tone was light and affectionate. He whistled. “I just wish you’d send some of your leftovers my way.”
I shrugged. “You’re welcome to them,” I said.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, glancing down at the screen. When I saw what time it was, I groaned.
“I gotta get moving,” I said, shaking my head. “Rico’s waiting for me.”
Barnes snickered. “Must be nice,” he replied. “Must be nice.”
I grabbed my toothbrush from my desk, along with a fresh shirt, boxers, and a pair of pants. Since I was only staying in Nassau for a few days, I didn’t need much. The hotel where I’d booked a room surely had laundry service, and they weren’t going to close down just because of a little thunderstorm.
I left the office and took a cab to meet Rico at a private airfield just outside of Boston. He was waiting with my plane – a gorgeous old thing I’d bought at an auction and had restored. When he saw me, he smiled.
“Hello, Mr. Jack,” Rico said. When I stepped closer, I saw that he looked nervous.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Jack, the storm looks like it might be worse than expected,” Rico said. He twisted his hands nervously together. “You haven’t canceled your meeting by any chance, have you?”
I snorted. “Of course not,” I said. “And it’s just a little storm!” I waved my hand in the air dismissively. “Besides, the weather is fine here,” I added. It was true – despite the bitter cold, the snow had stopped, and the sun was peeking through a layer of dark grey clouds.
Rico nodded. “Yes, Mr. Jack,” he said. “I understand.”
The flight to Nassau seemed to take no time at all – there was hardly any turbulence at all – and before I knew it, we were touching down in a tropical paradise. The sun was bright and shining, and the hot, muggy air filled me with a sense of excitement. Barnes may have envied my “vacation,” but I was really looking forward to meeting with my shareholders and getting this straightened out. Nothing – not even sleeping with a supermodel – comes close to the thrill of landing new business. I’d had my eye on acreage in Nassau for about six months now, and I was more eager than ever to close the deal for good.
A private sedan met me at the airport – I’d made arrangements ahead to skip going through customs – and I climbed in the backseat, where I was greeted with an ice bucket and a chilled bottle of champagne. While I didn’t like showing up at meetings drunk, I figured a couple of glasses couldn’t hurt – maybe they’d do something to calm my nerves.
When we got to the Hotel St. Charles – the biggest resort in Nassau – I grinned. It was a great building, with pink stucco walls and fine art in the hallways. But mine’s going to be better, I thought as I took my room key from a smiling girl behind the desk. Mine’s going to be the best luxury resort in the whole damn country.
After I checked into my room – the penthouse suite, of course – I freshened up and made my way down to the conference room. My shareholders – a small group of six men – were already seated.
I flashed a big smile. “Sorry if I kept you waiting,” I said as I strode confidently into the room and held out my hand to shake. “I just touched down. Beautiful weather!”
�
��Yes,” one of my shareholders, Harry, said. “Too bad about the hurricane.” He glanced out the window as if he expected to see a cyclone of water.
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” I said with a grin as I reached for a bottle of mineral water.
“I’ve heard it’s going to be the worst storm in years,” another shareholder, Tom, chimed in.
“Well, we’re not exactly here to talk about the hurricane, are we?” I raised an eyebrow as I settled down in a leather executive chair. “Last time I checked, we were going to discuss the benefits of acquiring land here.”
Tom and Harry exchanged a glance.
“Right,” said Chris, another shareholder of mine. He pulled out a leather portfolio and slid it across the table. “I’ve got the documents drawn up right here.”
“Excellent,” I said, taking the folder from his grip and flipping it open. A bright drawing greeted me – a beautiful, majestic-looking hotel. I flipped through the rest of the papers and felt my grin fading.
“So? Do you like it?” Chris frowned.
“Well, I envisioned guest bungalows and cottages, not a hotel,” I said. “The luxury experience is changing – younger people value their privacy, and they’re going to pay more for that.”
“That would be a lot more expensive,” Tom said.
“I don’t care, I have the capital,” I replied.
I was met with silence.
“What?” I asked. “Why is this so impossible?” I felt a flicker of anger worming through my gut. “Why can’t we make this happen?”
Chris bit his lip. “Look, Jack, it’s a great idea – I never said it wasn’t.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’,” I said. “Spit it out.”
Chris sighed. “Look, you didn’t hear this from us, but I’ve heard that…”
“Oh my god, stop being such a girl,” I said angrily. “Just tell me!”
“Louis Franchot is looking at the same property,” Harry said, glancing at me with worry lines etched on his forehead. “And he has connections here – he can buy the property for a lot less money.”
“I don’t care,” I said, shaking my head. “I can buy it right now – so, why haven’t we?”
Harry looked deeply uncomfortable. “Jack, that’s the thing – I hate to say this, but it’s already in motion.”
“What?” My jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I wish I was,” Harry said. He frowned. “He bought the property this morning. There’s a small parcel left – enough to build a standard hotel, just like Chris passed over. If you take another look, I think you’ll really—“
“No,” I said, getting to my feet and shaking my head. “Absolutely not. I’m not giving up on this idea, and I’m definitely not giving anything up to that bastard Franchot!”
The table of shareholders was silent.
“Thanks for nothing,” I muttered under my breath. “I can’t believe I flew down here for this!” Whirling around, I stormed out of the conference room and slammed the door behind me.
I was so mad that I was seeing red. Louis Franchot, that fat French fuck, was going to steal everything from me. I’d been working on my Nassau plans for months, and there was no way in hell I was going to let anyone take that away from me.
I hated Louis Franchot more than anyone else on earth – in fact, my hatred for him was so deep that it knew no bounds. Louis’s company, Triskele Inc., had fucked me over more times than I cared to count.
I stormed to the front desk of the hotel, my nostrils flaring in anger. The cute girl who had given me my key looked up at me with concern.
“I know Louis Franchot is staying here,” I said angrily. “And I need to speak with him.”
She didn’t answer.
“Now,” I added quickly. “Ring his room and give me the phone.”
The girl flushed but obeyed. When she handed me the phone, I was quaking with anger.
“Hello?”
“Louis, you fucker,” I said angrily into the receiver. “I can’t believe you!”
Louis’s deep laughter filled me with even more rage. “Ah, so you have heard ze news, then?” Louis’s thick French accent barely disguised his obvious pleasure at hearing from me.
“Yes,” I said sharply. “I have heard ze news,” I added, mimicking his accent. “And you won’t get away with this.”
Louis chuckled. “Jack, I had no intention of making you…how you say? Angry with me?”
“Well, it’s too late for that,” I huffed into the phone. “And because of you, I have to start all over! This project was going to be my best yet!”
“Maybe zere is a way that we could…work this out,” Louis said slowly. “You care for dinner?”
I groaned. I hated the idea of seeing Louis in person – just passing by was usually enough to make me nauseous. Louis and I had been rivals ever since I’d taken over Trident Gold. Like me, Louis is a developer…but unlike me, he deserves to be put in jail. He’s notorious for using cheap, unskilled labor and unethical practices.
It was no wonder he’d managed to get the land so cheaply. I wondered who exactly he’d screwed over in the process.
“Sure, Louis,” I said. “Dinner, yeah, that’s great. How about tonight?”
“Yes,” Louis said. “In ze hotel restaurant, yes? But I cannot do tonight, what do you think of tomorrow?”
“Whatever,” I mumbled. “I’ll see you later.”
I slammed the phone down into the cradle with such force that the girl behind the desk jumped and squealed in alarm.
“Is everything okay, sir?”
I ignored her. “Book a reservation for seven-thirty, tomorrow night, in the more…expensive restaurant. Then call Louis Franchot and tell him about the reservation.” I leaned in closer and winked at the girl, making her blush. “And then, make sure the bill is on his tab. But don’t tell him that part,” I added, snickering.
The girl nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I’ll do that right away.”
I was full of anger and pent-up energy, so I went to the gym and blew off some steam while I killed time waiting to meet with Louis. I couldn’t believe he’d done this – snatched my property from under my nose, like a coward.
I vowed that I would make him pay.
At least he was amenable to meeting – I wondered if the greedy French pig would want to charge me double, which I was more than willing to pay. Of course, I couldn’t let him know that right away. But I would do whatever it took to make sure that property was in my hands by the end of the day. Of course he wants to meet with me, I thought as I pumped iron in the gym and stared at my reflection. He knows he can make a killing – I’ve been planning this project for months, and I bet he sent one of his little cronies to spy on me.
At six-thirty, I went to my room and took a long shower. Normally, I jacked off before stressful meetings. But I was so angry at Louis that I couldn’t even think of a girl – when I closed my eyes, all I saw was his fat face and beefy jowls.
When I heard the phone in my room ring, I rushed out of the shower and grabbed the receiver. Outside, the weather was cloudy, and it had begun to rain. Palm trees lashed back and forth in the wind, waving and flapping frantically.
I frowned. Stupid storm, I thought to myself. Well, I’m certainly not going to let it ruin anything for me.
“Hello?”
“This is an automated message from the Hotel St. Charles. We are planning to close down for pending hurricane, and we advise all of our guests to check out and book transportation home as soon—“
I slammed the phone down in a fit of rage. There was no way I was leaving, not without my property deed in hand. Fuck the storm. Fuck my stupid, spineless shareholders for not standing up for me.
And most of all, fuck Louis Franchot.
I barely slept that night. The hotel was busy and noisy, especially for a seven-hundred-dollar a night room, and I was angry that I could hear practically everything. When I stuck my head out of th
e door to complain, I saw that people were packing and leaving in a verified frenzy.
Pussies, I thought as I watched panicked tourists fleeing the Hotel St. Charles. It’s just a little storm, what the hell do they have to worry about?!
In the morning, the weather seemed worse. The sea was grey and stormy, and the sand was whipping about the beaches. I rolled my eyes as I stared at the waving palm trees. Just a few hours, and then I’ll be home, I thought to myself. I just have to make it through this stupid dinner.
At seven-twenty-five, I put on my clean clothes, slicked my dirty blonde hair back, and went downstairs. When I reached the lobby, I frowned. It was a ghost town. The lights were off, and no one was behind the concierge desk.
