Wicked Billionaire

by Luke Steel

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “For what?”

  “For telling me about your dad. I think it’s amazing, what you’re trying to do. I’m—I guess I’m jealous. My family’s not close. My parents just weren’t good at being parents, so we’ve all kind of gone our own ways. We talk, but … it was never like that. I don’t think I have that kind of relationship, those kinds of memories with anyone.”

  I pull her close for another kiss. That’s maybe sadder than my pitiful story.

  “What about Richard? He seems so protective of you. I assumed you guys were a tight-knit clan.”

  She laughs. “God, no. I see Uncle Richard maybe once a year at family functions, and he’s never been particularly interested in my life. Or very impressed by my career, for that matter. I built my clientele from scratch, and this is the first time he’s ever acknowledged we were in remotely the same business. I never expected anything from him.”

  She looks at her watch and sits up with a sigh.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. I just always got the feeling he sneered at my small potatoes, bootstrappy business.”

  As we dress, something about her revelation itches at me. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about her story about Richard bothers me. It’s not that I don’t trust Havana. I do. But why did he go to the trouble of practically forcing me to hire her if he didn’t care? She’s phenomenal at her job, so even without the other benefits she and I enjoy, he did me a favor. So why does it feel like a lie?

  Chapter Six

  The next day, Havana supervises the zipline excursion on shore all morning while I entertain the five guests too hungover for rainforest shenanigans. We go through a variety of hangover cures before conceding the fight at brunch. Finally, the two couples head back to their rooms and Bob heads to the pool again. I spend some time in the Ocean Breeze conference room with Havana’s files, double checking the next couple days’ schedules.

  That’s where I am when the group gathers at the dock to re-board, and even though I’ll see her again in two hours, I watch for Havana’s long black ponytail and pale skin. When I spot her, she’s stuffing a clipboard into her backpack as the Smooth Sail group trudges up the ramp. Everyone looks wilted but happy, and I smile down at my cruise director. She looks annoyingly perky from up here, shepherding sunburnt and sweat-stained tourists back on board.

  At dinner, I sit with Richard at the executive table. Everything is perfect again, as expected. Spotless white cloths on the table, crystal and silver sparkling in the dim light, and faultlessly polite servers. The perfectly cooked lamb and roasted summer vegetables taste better than any food has a right to taste, and I begin to wonder if sea-magic is messing with my head. Everything seems super-saturated. Colors are brighter and flavors bolder. When I swallow the last sip of the California pinot noir, all the individual flavor notes of this wine stand out, from cherry to chocolate.

  I’m not the only one in a sensory haze. As people take the first bite of the black pepper crème brûlée, their glazed eyes roll heavenward. All around me, guests loll in seats, flushed with the satisfaction of finer things.

  I’ve spent the evening trying not to stare at Havana across the table from me. She has her hair down tonight, and the chandelier sparkles darkly in the shiny locks. Her wide, slightly tilted eyes are smoky, and dinner barely smudged the glossy scarlet lipstick that makes me crazy. Richard looms next to me like a malevolent, cock-blocking spirit. Havana’s admission about him leaves me on edge, though I still haven’t figured out why he’s putting on the fond uncle act.

  A needle of suspicion punctures my good humor, and Kevin East enters my thoughts for the first time in days. It seems improbable that he’d go after me any more than he already has, just for the infraction of knowing he’s a cheat. It’s not like I’ve tried to use that information—my policy is to steer clear of anyone so obviously crooked, because that kind of dirt tends to rub off. But what if he can’t let it go? As far as I know, Richard’s got nothing against me, so I can’t imagine how East would rope him into some weird scheme, or what Richard would get out of it. A bigger cut in an Eastward Hotels partnership?

  Screw it, I think. I focus on the conversation again, listening to Richard and Evan talk markets. Every now and then I comment, but mostly I use every trick I know to surreptitiously watch Havana. Right now she’s attempting to draw Emily into conversation, but from here it looks like trying to dance with a noodle. Every start falls flat, and Emily goes back to watching Evan talk. Gabe is happy to have Havana to himself when she finally gives up on Emily.

  Watching Havana has become like second nature. I’m pretty sure no one notices; they’re too busy pursuing their own pleasure.

  Servers remove the dessert plates efficiently and refill our wine. Richard leans back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other.

  “My people say things are going well, Jet. I know Jenny and I are enjoying ourselves.” He stretches an arm around his companion, who returns a lackluster smile. “Other than breakfast, we haven’t had any problems at all. A very smooth sail.” He laughs at his own joke, even though he has to have made the same joke a million times before.

  “Thank you, Richard. I agree. I couldn’t be happier with the cruise staff and the excursion teams. Havana here has done an excellent job making sure everything has gone smoothly.” I raise a glass to her. Everyone else toasts her as well, smiling and murmuring their agreement. Emily perks up enough to murmur softly about the Cancun port call, and Jenny and Gabe name their own favorite moments so far. I feel like success is within reach.

  The rich red wine rolls over my tongue with an earthy finish, and I smile broadly.

  “Since everything is so satisfactory, Richard, why don’t we wrap up business early and sign the contract now?”

  The conversation at our table falters and the atmosphere shifts. I feel like I’ve walked into a freaking glass wall. No one speaks. Viv and Evan stare at me like I’ve put my feet up on the dinner table.

  “Jet, I’d like to speak to you alone.” He’s not asking, and the others know they’ve been dismissed. The rest of the room still hums around us as our table wordlessly fumbles with purses and napkins and drinks. They clear out, and Richard signals for another glass of wine. We wait in awkward silence for the server to fill our glasses. He’s making me wait to put me off balance, and I wonder what’s coming next. Is this the sucker punch part of me has been waiting for?

  He sips the wine and makes some stupid remark about it, clearly trying to keep me off balance. Another one of his outdated business power plays. I wait it out.

  “I’m not signing a goddamn thing until this trip is over.” He smacks his lips over the words. The movement makes me think he wishes he had a cigar to blow smoke in my face for effect.

  “Easy, man. It was just a suggestion. You said we were doing a great job, so I pressed the advantage. Nothing wrong with that. I’m curious though, why the wait if you’re happy with what we’ve done so far?”

  “Forget it. We’ve got another five days on this ship. Who do you think I am? Only fools concede the battle before it’s over.” Richard’s sagging jowls vibrate as he talks.

  “Richard, this isn’t a battle.” I laugh. “We both stand to win here with this contract, I intend to make sure of that.”

  He gives a wheezy laugh, his over-tanned face crinkling around his pale eyes.

  “Think about it. If you can’t pull this off, your entire company looks bad. This whole experiment is going to be well documented. The Business Journal already contacted me for a story. If this thing goes south, you get a black eye with your board and the stench of failure with investors. That kind of thing inevitably trickles out to the masses and the whole brand starts to tarnish. Something like that would be a prime opportunity for another hotel chain to eat into your market share.”

  And there it is. My heart thumps against my ribs. Shifty piece of shit. Eastward’s been throwing money at him like I suspect
ed in the beginning. I keep my features blandly pleasant.

  “So what are you telling me here, Richard?” I stop short of accusing him of stabbing me in the back, but the implication hangs between us. If he’s been operating in bad faith here, and I can prove it, I might not be the one who comes out of this covered in mud.

  He sips his wine and glances around us. People are starting to filter out, but plenty of ears remain in the room. Then his face cracks in a malicious smile.

  “All speculation, of course. You have to play the long game and watch the horizon. Business is always war. Look, my board likes this deal, so I’m here, but I’m still the man at the top.”

  “And?”

  I wonder how big a splash he’ll make if I toss him overboard.

  “You’ve got five more days,” he reminds me. “Time will tell what you deserve. Men who resist temptation, who stay focused, they’re the ones who win. How’s your focus, Jet?”

  And now I’m not so sure my attraction to Havana went unnoticed. Fuck.

  Chapter Seven

  I can’t let Richard know he hit a nerve. So I laugh and talk. I stop and sit at the tables where diners linger over coffee, asking whether everyone enjoyed dinner and today’s excursion.

  “You should have seen Havana on the zipline,” Kelly says with a laugh. “She must watch a bunch of cop shows. She came in on that thing like she was busting down a door!”

  My laugh rings hollow in my ears. “Yeah, I’d like to see that.” I lean in conspiratorially. “She’s pretty much a hard ass. You guys don’t see it, but the ship’s catering staff are terrified of her.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that.” Kelly’s partner Ayesha crosses her arms. “You better be nice to her or she’ll jump ship in some tropical paradise. You can chase after all our lazy asses and lead the shopping excursions.”

  “A fate worse than death!” I hold up my hands in mock horror.

  For the most part, I like this group. It’s not like the whole company is rotten. Just Richard. Dammit. The confirmation that Richard is playing me against Eastward eats at me, burning in my throat the whole time I chat with the other guests. My options are limited, and something’s got to give. In one corner, my ultimate life goal and everything I’ve worked toward over the course of my career. In the other corner, the woman I met a week ago.

  As obvious as the choice seems, it turns my stomach.

  When the crowd disperses, I say goodnight to the lingerers and slip out, for the first time, without saying goodnight to Havana or giving her our secret sign, the letter F in sign language. I just need to work this out. When the threat of shady dealing was less obvious, the riskiness of being with Havana only stoked my interest in her. I stop at the railing and look over the sea, thinking of Havana. And then someone walks by speaking Spanish, and I remember my first trip to Barcelona with my father. After I told Havana about him—the first time I’ve shared that with anyone—he’s been on my mind. More than usual. Things are quiet in my part of the ship as I let myself into my room. It looks lonely, so I order a decanter of whisky from room service. I’m on my third glass when someone taps at the door. I open the door quickly and let Havana in, but instead of kissing her hello, I settle back in the chair with my drink.

  She stands in front of me, fists on her hips. Despite the confrontational posture, her voice is gentle.

  “What happened, Jet? You hid it like a pro, but I can tell you’re upset. What did Richard say that has you so stressed out?”

  I chuckle bitterly into my drink and make a hard choice.

  The only choice.

  “You need to leave.”

  “What the hell does that even mean? There’s only so far I can go on a boat. Talk to me, Jet. If not as your lover, then as your cruise director. What was Richard being so mysterious about? I’m guessing we don’t have a signed contract in hand.”

  “No, and we won’t until the end of the cruise, if then. He made that clear. Dammit, I’m such an idiot.” I pour another glass and hand it to Havana. “We can’t be together. This has to stop if I want this deal to close.”

  “Does he know?” She sinks on the bed and gulps the whisky, wincing at the burn. “What exactly did he say?”

  “If he doesn’t know, he at least suspects.”

  “Did he say so?” she presses.

  “He didn’t have to.” I get impatient. “He dropped some dire fucking hints about temptation and focus. There’s this other chain—Eastward. The owner’s a real asshole, and I caught him cheating at cards once. It sounds stupid, but the man has gone after me since then. He’s blown up two deals in the last three years. He underbids and then makes it up in surcharges and cut corners, but by the time they find out, they’re locked in for a few years. Among his other hints, Richard mentioned someone else taking our market share. That’s got to be Eastward. Richard all but threatened me with public humiliation if the deal falls through. I could lose everything.” It stings to be under his thumb like this.

  On the bed, Havana stills and stares into her glass. “Okay. So we wait until the papers are signed, and his leverage disappears. There will be no reason to hide anything then.”

  From where I’m sitting, that doesn’t look any better. “So we suddenly step out together after I hired you for a deal involving your uncle. If it doesn’t look like harassment, I will at least look like an asshole. I don’t see any way to come out of this free and clear. My whole company could take a hit if I look like some kind of unethical scum.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Jet. We’re freaking adults.”

  “No.” I shake my head. I’ve had enough alcohol to slow down my thoughts, but everything still seems crystal clear. “Richard all but threatened me, and he’s right. I stepped out of line, way out of line by going after you.”

  “Is that what you think happened?” Her lips pull to the side mischievously, but I’m too far gone. She nods.

  “Okay, then.” Her voice trembles, and I sink lower than I thought possible. “I think this is a crappy way to go out, Jet. But thanks for a good time.”

  She walks over to the table and sets the tumbler on it. There’s a splash of whisky left in the bottom. I notice it because I can’t meet her eyes.

  “I’ll finish this job, and it’ll be fabulous. You won’t get a single complaint, I promise you. I really don’t want to see you after this, though. Like ever. I’ll take a referral, but I won’t work with you again. But for the record, we’ve done a fantastic job without having to miss out on each other. Whatever doubts you have now, what we did and felt together, that was real, and honestly I think our chemistry here”—she waves a hand at the bed—“only helped our work. This is a relationship business, and this one could have been great.” She grabs her purse and walks to the door. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.”

  She doesn’t give me time to say anything. The words to beg her to stay are on my lips when the door clicks shut.

  The closed door stares me in the face.

  I push my drink aside and rest my forehead in my palms. This morning, I woke up with every hope of a contract and Havana naked beside me. I had everything just a few hours ago, and all of it’s out of my reach now.

  I stand and walk to the door, and then back to the bathroom. This was the right call. People depend on me. I’m CEO of ERH, but I’m not its everything. It’s a global company, bigger than anything I’ve been part of before. Which is precisely why I went after this position and this deal. Travel opens minds. Creates memories. Makes people happy. This is the job I want to do. In no way is this the wrong play if I want to climb these last few steps to my goal. Eastward can never compete with us for quality, and quality is what a company like Smooth Sail needs. Even if Richard wants to give me the shaft, he’ll lose the confidence of his employees if he shuts me down without a damn good reason. Maybe later, if Havana and I cross paths again—but asking her to wait around wouldn’t be fair.

  The tap squeaks as I wrench it open. I stare at the stream bef
ore splashing cold water on my face. What am I not seeing here? For a guy like Richard, business is war, and he’s kept the advantage. I’ve been so busy second guessing his motives, trying to earn a reprieve from that cynical look in his eye, I haven’t been able to get on solid footing. He’s old school, loves the handshake power struggles. I’d bet his office features a chair for guests that’s several inches lower than his desk chair.

  I pace some more, guzzling a bottle of water. My thoughts feel sharper. Richard is a dinosaur. Maybe his uptight, mid-century morality is a relic. Havana seems to think no one would care if we were together. Maybe she’s right, and I’ve let Richard’s throwback notions define the game. Maybe I don’t have to. I drink another bottle of water, splash some more water on my face, and look in the mirror. My dark blond hair is tousled where I’ve been raking my hands through it. A muscle in my jaw flexes.

  I need to talk to her.

  Until the minute the door closed, I thought cutting off things with Havana was the only way to get what I wanted. Now I know that the deal isn’t the only thing I want.

  It hasn’t been long; she’s probably still up. I stride down the hall. The fastest way to Havana’s room is past the piano bar, but I cross my fingers that I don’t meet any Smooth Sail late owls who feel chatty. I slow my pace and glance around when I near the bar, checking for a clear path. From one of the secluded alcoves that usually shelters lovers, a loud male voice rises in raucous laughter. It sets my teeth on edge, and I freeze. Richard’s laugh is that annoying. I don’t want him to spot me, but I tilt my head and listen, trying to see if my instinct is right. A lower voice speaks, and then another voice, clearly Richard’s. He’s reached loud-talking stage of drunkenness, so I don’t have to work to hear what he’s saying.

  “We’ve got five more days,” he proclaims. I’m about to keep walking, since he’s clearly occupied. But then I hear my name. “I’m telling you, Jet Flourish and ERH are done. He’s balls deep in my little honey trap, I fuckin’ know it.”