Forget You

by Nina Crespo

  “Wonderful. The wine greatly enhances the dishes I’ve prepared, especially the next course. The high acid and crispness of the pinot will cut through the richness of the soup and cleanse the palate.” Chef Gilson turned to Yolanda as she appeared to clear the table. “You’ll need another wineglass.” As he smiled at the server, he stroked a hand down her back.

  The young woman blushed and smiled back. “Yes, Chef.”

  Shit! It was them. Sophie’s hand bumped over her tea. It spilled on the table and splashed on her lap.

  King lunged forward and righted the glass. Yolanda and Chef Gilson ran for more napkins.

  Sophie dabbed at her dress, warring between holding in the truth and blurting it out.

  The situation was too insane. King had no clue they’d all had orgasms twenty feet from where they were sitting. Well . . . he hadn’t, but he’d gotten his later.

  No. Just no. She couldn’t eat lunch where she’d shared in some alternate version of a freaky foursome. Sophie stood and grabbed her clutch. “I can’t do this anymore. I have to go.”

  Sophie headed for the elevator.

  King caught up with her and grabbed her arm, just as she pressed the down button. “There’s a ladies’ room on the left, near the corner.”

  “I’m leaving. I have to get back to the office.”

  “We’re not done with lunch.”

  “I am.” She pulled her arm from his grasp. The elevator opened and she got in.

  King charged after her. “Out with it. What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing.” She pressed the open-door button. “You should go finish lunch.”

  “Finish lunch?” Frustration filled his expression. “Before you left the table, you said you couldn’t do this anymore. Well, neither can I.” He gripped her arms and she let go of the button.

  The elevator doors closed.

  “You’re acting irrational, and that’s not like you. There has to be a reason.” King’s expression turned grave, and he swallowed hard. “Did something happen that made you feel obligated to have sex with me that night?”

  “What? No. Of course not.”

  The elevator beeped, wanting them to push a button.

  As his hands fell from her, King’s shoulders drooped. “Then what?”

  His lost expression got to her. Sophie pushed the button for the lobby. “The night of the gala, the restaurant was still under construction. We snuck up to the tenth floor to snoop around, but Chef Gilson and Yolanda came up too—although we didn’t know who they were at the time. We hid behind some crates near a wall so they wouldn’t see us.” She closed her eyes for a moment to avoid looking at him. With the gaps in his memory, what she was about to say would probably sound crazier than what she’d just experienced in the restaurant. “We ended up listening to them have sex.”

  Disbelief then acceptance shadowed his expression. “And that led to us having sex.”

  “Yes.”

  The elevator stopped on the fifth floor. Another couple around their age got in.

  Side by side, the casually dressed dark-haired man and woman naturally gravitated toward each other. She leaned against him as he laid a possessive hand on her hip. He pecked a kiss on her forehead, and she looked up at him and smiled.

  They made a good couple. It was as if Sophie could feel the love they shared radiating off of them.

  The elevator reached the bottom floor, and the couple got off first.

  As Sophie and King followed them into the lobby, King laid a hand on her arm, stalling her. “Finish the story. What happened after that?”

  Her gaze was drawn to the couple, who walked hand in hand through the sparse crowd. A pang of longing hit. She slipped her clutch under her arm. “You wanted to walk it back and pretend it didn’t happen, but I couldn’t.” A wry laugh tinged with sadness escaped. “You moved on to your next conquest. I decided to resign. Then the accident happened and your wish came true. You forgot.”

  sixteen

  MR. KINGMAN, WE’RE so excited you could join us for our event.” Leah, the young, auburn-haired session organizer for the Boutique Hotel and Lifestyle Conference scooted to the edge of the navy couch in the living room of King’s Virginia Beach hotel suite. She picked up her padfolio from the glass coffee table in front of her and flipped open the cover. “You’re scheduled to go onstage at ten o’clock. The attendees can’t wait to hear you speak.”

  “I’m happy to do it.” King leaned over from where he sat in the beige chair next to the couch and placed his china cup and saucer on the coffee table. The perky woman exuded a level of enthusiasm that his morning jog on the beach or the espresso he was drinking during their meeting had failed to provide him with.

  The organizer swiped a finger over the screen of her computer tablet inside the folio. “Our media coordinator is double-checking the setup now.” Her expression turned puzzled. “I have a note that your assistant, Ms. Jordan, wanted to review the stage. We’re an hour out from the presentation. Is she arriving soon?”

  “She was delayed at the office.” Or she’d decided not to show at all. King smoothed the sky-blue tie he’d paired with his white pin-striped shirt and charcoal slacks. The sound of waves crashing in the ocean view in front of him, visible through the French doors, drew his attention.

  For some reason, when he’d come back from his run, he’d spotted the tie in his luggage and felt compelled to wear it like a good-luck charm. Surprising, considering it was hard to believe Sophie’d wish him good fortune. Yesterday after she’d confessed what happened, she’d left him standing in the lobby of the Ivy Gate Hotel. Since then, she hadn’t returned to the office or spoken to him.

  The organizer stood. “Between our media personnel and the resort staff, I’m confident everything is fine, but I’ll still swing by the main ballroom.”

  “Thank you.” He escorted her to the door.

  Her smile widened as she walked into the hallway. “I’ll check in with you thirty minutes prior to go time. Should I call your cell or your room?”

  He followed her gaze to the phone on the light marble-countered breakfast bar, in front of the galley-style kitchen in the far corner. “My room phone is fine. I’ll be here.” He’d turned off his cell. Aiden had already left two messages asking if he’d read the updated report from their acquisitions advisors. He hadn’t.

  “Talk to you then.”

  King closed the door and loneliness engulfed him. Sophie usually attended major meetings and engagements with him. If she were there, she would have been hyped up on caffeine, eating one of her favorite muffins.

  A vison arose of her sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar.

  She had the ability to complete a million things at once, including making sure he was good. Which he wasn’t. Before the accident, he’d memorized information easily. Now he was relying on a stack of notes.

  He went out the French doors that opened onto the balcony. The smell of ocean brine teased his senses. It was a perfect day to escape. If only he could ditch the presentation and trade in his suit for a pair of board shorts and a few days on his boat. He hadn’t been out on the water since last summer.

  For a fleeting moment yesterday, he’d thought of leaving so he could claim a few hours for himself. After Sophie’s revelation, he’d needed space. Instead, he’d finished the meeting at the Ivy Gate and gone back to the office, where he’d narrowly avoided a talk with Aiden, who’d wanted to hear the details about his lunch with the hotel staff. After that, he’d headed home and tried to work on the presentation, but had ended up treating himself to a grueling weight lifting session in his home gym instead. Not that physical punishment had helped. All he could think of was Sophie’s face, and the hurt in her eyes.

  King gripped the top of the dark, metal railing. Had he really asked her to walk it back and pretend they’d never slept together, then promptly moved on to someone else? Sure, on occasion he’d stacked women back-to-back, but with Sophie in the equation, it sounded wro
ng. Remorse twisted inside of him. He could learn to live with her leaving for a new career, if that’s what she really wanted. But what he couldn’t accept was her resigning because he’d hurt her.

  The hotel phone rang on the breakfast bar.

  He went inside and answered it.

  “Mr. Kingman!” The session organizer’s zeal had risen to a new level. “It’s not time for you to come down yet. I’m calling because someone I know you’ll be happy to see is headed to your suite. Oh, and if you want them to handle your introduction, let me know.”

  A knock sounded at the door.

  Sophie. She must have stopped by the ballroom to check on the setup before coming to him. Tension eased out of him. What had Sophie noticed about his introduction? “I’ll get back to you on that.” He hung up. Screw changes with the presentation. At this point, he just wanted to get it over with so he could work on mending things with Sophie.

  He swung the door open. “I didn’t think you were showing up.”

  Gerard Kingman strode in. “Something tells me I’m not the one you were expecting.”

  King’s surprise quickly dissipated to irritation. Why was his father there to see him? They hadn’t spoken since Gerard had called last year demanding to know why he and Aiden had supported their mother’s move to London.

  King shut the door. “What do you want?”

  His father, fit and sporting a natural suntan, unbuttoned his blue suit jacket and lowered into the side chair. “To wish my son well, of course.”

  “Spare me.” Compassion wasn’t Gerard’s strong suit—flexing his ego was.

  “I’m serious.” Gerard raised his brows and shrugged innocently. “After all, I am the reason you’re here. The conference organizers wanted me. I was too busy, so they settled for you, but then I heard you were in a plane crash. Are you sure you’re up for the task?”

  “I’m still standing.” King went to the breakfast bar, where his notes were spread out. He stacked them on the counter. “I have work to do. Unless you have something relevant to say, you should go downstairs. Network. Make yourself feel good by telling everyone how you almost ended up presenting.”

  “I could, but how you’re about to lose the Ivy Gate deal is a more entertaining story.” Gerard laughed wryly as he adjusted the gold cuff links in the sleeves of his white dress shirt. “Especially since you’re being billed as some type of guru when it comes to investing in hotels.”

  Push all the right buttons. A classic Gerard tactic. “Is there a point to this conversation other than you being annoying? I really don’t have time for your usual bullshit.”

  “Fine. You want to be blunt? Let’s go there.” Gerard’s smile disappeared. “You and I have the balls to do what it takes to be successful, and Aiden doesn’t. Everyone knows you’re the engine running that start-up you call a viable operation, and that he’s simply holding on for the ride. Stop wasting your talent. Come back and work for me. Learn from me.”

  Divide and conquer: another one of his father’s favorite strategies. “Class ended with you a long time ago. Kingman Partners is operating in the black, and even if we weren’t, I wouldn’t lower my standards to work for you again.”

  “Not lower your standards?” A spark of indignation flashed over Gerard’s face. “You have a lot of nerve condemning me. When you fucked up all those years ago, I showed you mercy. I was the one who saved you from disgrace.”

  The memory from King’s past struck like a snake, injecting fresh guilt into old wounds. Allowing Gerard to pull him out of the fire, in exchange for not revealing his father’s infidelity, had led to his mother being hurt and humiliated. Back then, he’d told himself he’d done it to spare his mother and Aiden pain, especially since Gerard had sworn to recommit himself to his marriage. Over time, he’d come to accept that burying the information for his father had been about preserving his own selfish pride.

  King swallowed the bitterness lodged in his throat. Atoning for that mistake now was out of his grasp, but he’d go to hell and back before he’d team up with Gerard again. “I don’t owe you a damn thing. I earned my place, along with every dollar in my bank account.”

  His father stood. “When I arranged for you to get this speaking gig, I saw it as an opportunity for us to meet and talk like two grown, successful men. Out of all of you, I thought you were the smartest, but all you are is a weak, watered-down version of me with no balls or ambition.”

  As King advanced on Gerard, the papers for his presentation fell from the counter. The contempt he spotted in his father’s steely blue eyes was mutual. “Keep fucking with me and what’s mine, and you’ll get a taste of exactly what I’m made of.”

  His father leaned in. “Do it, you ungrateful son of a bitch.”

  The lock disengaged.

  Sophie entered the suite, talking on the phone. “I want the podium moved to the middle of the stage. Yes. Thank you. We’ll be down in thirty.”

  seventeen

  THE TENSION RADIATING through the suite brought Sophie to an abrupt halt.

  King had his hands clenched at his sides as if he were prepared to strike the man who was an older version of himself.

  Gerard Kingman. Even if she hadn’t recognized him from a photo she’d glimpsed in a business journal a year ago, the resemblance between the two men was too striking to miss. Except for the difference in their ages and Gerard’s salt-and-pepper hair, they were similar, all the way down to the stubborn pride reflected in their angled jawlines.

  Heart clattering, Sophie breezed in and dropped her brown leather tote on the couch. “King, we need to get downstairs.”

  He didn’t budge.

  His father smirked, as if daring him to throw a punch.

  The man clearly had a death wish. King would kick his ass, but his father wanted him to lose control. Sophie put herself between them and grasped King’s forearm. “There’s a ballroom full of people waiting for you.”

  King looked down at her. The cold fury in his eyes raised a chill up her spine. He shifted his attention back to his father. “Get out.” He went to the breakfast bar and snatched papers from the ground.

  Sophie opened the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Kingman.”

  Gerard’s gaze raked over her. “Priceless. You need a woman to save you.”

  King stood up. “Make no mistake. She saved you.”

  Gerard stalked out.

  Sophie immediately shut the door. A fine tremor shook her hands. She’d heard that King and Aiden didn’t get along with their father, but she’d never anticipated a nuclear level of animosity.

  She joined King at the counter.

  His expression reflected anger, but bleakness filled his eyes.

  Compassion almost caused her to reach for his hand. He wouldn’t want her to coddle him. “I made a few changes downstairs. They had the podium off to the right, but I asked them to move it to the center and bring the viewing screens down on both sides of the stage. It will give the graphics in the presentation a greater impact and make it easier for you to see them.”

  King put the papers he’d picked up on the counter. They were upside down as he stared at them. “I should have passed this responsibility to Aiden. I’m not ready.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not. I’m going up there tied to a bunch of notes like I’m a fucking newbie who doesn’t understand a damn thing about the industry.” He gripped the marble. “You heard Gerard. He’s going to love me making a fool of myself, especially since everyone actually wanted to hear him speak. The organizers only chose me because he arranged it.”

  King really believed that crap? Sophie couldn’t contain her disbelief. “I just passed through the area where the conference attendees are taking a break. They can’t wait to hear you. They admire how you’ve grown Kingman Partners. They praised your skill as an investor in the hospitality industry, and most of all, they like you and your CEO swagger. Their words, not mine.”

  “In other words, they think I’m cocky.” Co
ndemnation shone in his eyes. “You said I asked you to walk it back and forget we were together. Only an arrogant son of a bitch like my father would ask you to do that. Maybe I am just a weak, watered-down version of him.”

  “No.” Sophie took a risk that King wouldn’t pull away and gripped his hand. “You’re not some half-assed copycat of your father. You’ve made your own way. Don’t give him the satisfaction of believing he’s right. Get on that stage and make your presence known in a way that sets you miles apart from him.”

  “The presentation isn’t sticking. I’m not used to using notes.”

  “Stop psyching yourself out about the notes. Read directly from the screen if it makes you more comfortable. The main thing you shouldn’t forget is that the people in the audience like you and what you represent. Give them the real you, and they’ll forgive any mistake you might make.”

  “And what about you?” Remorse shadowed his gaze. “Can you forgive me?”

  This was her opportunity to strike at King’s heart, but revenge wasn’t her aim. She hated bullies. Telling King what he needed to hear wouldn’t present as a lie. In time, the way he’d treated her the morning after the gala wouldn’t sting as much.

  She held his hand tighter. “Yes.”

  He squeezed back. “Good.” The phone ringing on the counter drew his attention. He visibly swallowed. “It’s time.”

  Fifteen minutes before the presentation, Sophie stood with King at the side of the stage in the green-and-beige-carpeted hotel ballroom.

  Large chandeliers and recessed lights lit up the expansive space. Chairs and tables were arranged in columns on the left and the right of the room, and almost every seat was occupied. The session was quickly reaching standing room only.

  A balding middle-aged man from the hotel’s media department attached a small mic to the lapel of King’s suit jacket.

  She’d asked for the last-minute switch from the microphone at the podium. This way King would have more freedom to move around and easily view the two large screens positioned on each side of the stage.