Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
AARON
THREE WEEKS LATER
T he small airport in Banff didn’t have a first-class lounge but the stunning views more than made up for it. I should’ve been relaxed now that I’d finally arrived and was alone. But waiting for Harrison’s flight to arrive had me inordinately unsettled. Traveling for business meetings wasn’t my thing and my inner grump was making a comeback. Having my father call me incessantly, even more so. The only thing keeping me from a total meltdown was the fact that Harrison didn’t fly with me. Or, rather, he was jetting in from Vancouver, where our satellite office was located. The jerk started weeks ago and already he’d racked up more expenses than I did in a month.
Asshole.
This morning, I’d hopped on the earliest flight to Calgary, hit a four-hour delay, and grabbed a connecting flight to Banff. Tired and grumpy, I was at the end of my patience. Did I have a private jet? Yes. Did I bother using it? No. Optics , my father’s voice bellowed in my memory. No private jets, no special treatment. Even if I was on my own plane, I’d still be cranky as hell. I traveled when necessary for business, but not much for pleasure. Not that I had any of the latter in my life. Not for years. I worked every weekday, I worked every weekend, and in my spare time, I…who was I kidding? If I had any spare time, I worked.
Speaking of which, and given that I was waiting for Harrison, I called my father.
“It’s about time you got back to me. I should’ve flown up there with you,” he barked. “You’re going to fuck up this Jonassa deal, I know it. You’re not cut out for this job.”
“Why don’t you screw off already,” I bit out, fed up with his constant harassment. “I came into this role when the company was stagnating, thanks to your lousy performance, and I’m doing my best to turn things around. But your interfering has gone off the rails. I run things now; you’re included in discussions as a courtesy given your seat on the board. Stop using them as your personal power trip and fuck off.”
“I’m warning you, Aaron,” my father snapped. “This trip to Banff better work. If this deal doesn’t close, you’ll be removed from your position. I’ll have the board on my side, and you know it. You’re far too young to be CEO anyway. I should’ve recommended Gordy.”
“You mean, your nephew with the gambling addiction?”
“Your cousin has been out of rehab for a year. And he’s got more experience than you.”
Experience and a shitload of bad debts. I’d just given my cousin another massive loan so he’d get the loan sharks off his back. And this was the person Winston wanted to run the company? Gordy would run it into the goddamn ground. I just couldn’t win. I’d been raised for this role and yet, when I stepped in, my father couldn’t accept it. So I was twenty-nine? What did my age matter as long as I got shit done?
“Gordy has experience losing money. Lots of it. And we’re already bleeding out,” I returned, while interested passersby in the airport lounge stared at me. “The past twelve months have been rough, but the changes I’ve implemented will earn out. We’re going to make our next quarterly projections. What more do you want from me?”
“This is the worst year in the history of this company, Aaron. This trip is your last test. You have assistance, so make good use of it. And if you fail to deliver?—”
I hung up. He could just fuck right off. Between the pressure from the board, travel, and the prospect of having to work with The Asshole, AKA Harrison Ducker, I was done. I needed a drink, a shower, and some goddamn peace and quiet. The drink was needed most of all. And I didn’t care about the size of my potential bar tab; booze was a legitimate corporate business expense. Especially if I had to work with Harrison. God, just saying his name pissed me off. I wanted him to recognize me. To know that despite my humiliation in college, I’d bested him. I was a CEO, and he was just a sales rep. My frame of mind was petty, but I didn’t care.
But confronting him about college would come later, much later, after this trip was done. After the deal was signed and delivered. Closing was just within reach, and I could smell the money. But deals aren’t inked in an hour or with a perfect smile. They’re days, weeks, and months of hand-holding, cajoling, and ass-kissing.
All my hard work was about to pay off, Harrison or no Harrison.
“Stop scowling, Mr. Taylor-Ladner,” a deep voice announced behind me. “Airport security are about to pull you aside for an interrogation and a full-body search.”
Jesus Christ.
I turned around to find Harrison standing there with that annoying, cocky grin in place. Passengers walked past us and all of them did a double take. I guess you could say he was handsome—if jet black hair, pale blue eyes, big dimples, and broad shoulders were your thing. Harrison was far too pretty, and he knew it. And why the hell did he look relaxed? I was bogged down in so many layers—a navy three-piece suit and tie, a heavy winter parka, and winter boots—that I could barely move. Harrison, on the other hand, was styling blue jeans, leather combat boots, and a silver puffer jacket. Like he was a ski instructor ready to hit the slopes. He leaned against his luggage and grinned at me. Asshole.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s a bad idea to smart mouth your boss?” I bit out, reaching into my pocket for my sunglasses.
“If you can tell your boss to go screw himself, I can do the same,” Harrison retorted.
“Listening in on my private conversation?”
Harrison scoffed. “It’s not private when you’re shouting in a public airport, genius.”
“And he’s not my boss.”
“Doesn’t seem that way. Daddy Winston got you on a tight leash?”
I bit my lower lip, holding back my temper, and shoved my sunglasses on. Harrison’s flippant manner and mocking words chafed worse than the weight of my clothes. My acid reflux kicked up, and once again, my gut told me that my irritation with this man was just getting started.
“Let’s get to the hotel and get on with it,” I grumbled.
“Slow down, boss. I’m not that kind of boy,” Harrison quipped. “Well, not with you.”
What the fuck?
“Will you just—” I started, readying my lecture about proper business communication. Until I noticed that Harrison was laughing at me. Fucker. He liked to play with fire, did he? “Zip it and get moving.”
It wasn’t my finest hour as a boss, but I didn’t give a shit. I stalked off, wishing like hell that Patrick was here. Instead, I’d given my assistant time off while I was away. But I was wrong. So wrong. There was nothing to buffer me from this annoying jerk.
Harrison caught up to me and nudged my elbow.
“Just because your father is a condescending dickhead, doesn’t mean you should continue the tradition,” Harrison snarked.
I stopped short and stared at him. I’d never had an employee talk to me like this. Ever.
“Are you itching to get fired?” I asked.
Harrison shook his head and gave me a wicked smile. “Not going to happen. I signed a one-year ironclad contract, remember? Get used to my face because I’m not going anywhere. Not for the next eleven months and one week.”
My father’s decision was biting me in the ass. In the very worst way.
Ignoring Harrison’s annoying smirk, I headed for the exit. Or, what I thought was the exit. I had no idea where I was going, I just needed to get the fuck out of here. The hotel bar was calling, and the message was urgent.
“So, you also went to Delaney U,” Harrison stated as he strode beside me. I caught the hint of his cologne, something rich and heady, like vanilla and leather. I wondered how he could smell so good after traveling for hours. “Care to swap college stories?”
Just like that, my body went from uncomfortably hot to shivering cold, fear snaking up my spine.
“No.”
“Really? But we must have crossed paths given that you were only two years behind me. Or, maybe we crossed swords?” he paused, chuckling. “Fencing, I mean.”
I pretended I didn’t hear his comment, or his laughter, and kept walking. Power walking. My shivers turned to shaking when I stepped outside, hit by the bomb of arctic air. Living in Seattle, I was used to damp winters, but this icy chill was next level cold. And when Harrison drew closer to me, I bolted again, nearly slipping on the icy pavement.
“Hey! Our driver is waiting over there,” Harrison shouted.
I turned around to find Harrison pointing to the end of the arrivals’ area. Sure enough, I spotted a driver with a sign that had my name on it. Shit. I reluctantly—and carefully—walked back to him.
“Why did you take off like that?” Harrison continued. “Is the cold numbing your brain?”
“Watch it,” I bit back. “I haven’t spent eight months working on this deal to have it ruined by a smart-ass in a cheap suit.”
Harrison shook his head and let out a filthy chuckle. All the hair on my body stood on end.
“What suit? And flirting with me already? Bad, bad boss,” he quipped.
I choked on nothing but air and saliva. “Stop it.”
“You started it. But sorry, I don’t go for corporate men,” he snapped, giving me a look that was pure disdain. “They’re so uptight.”
“Can you please stop talking about your personal life and stick to work?” I muttered, desperate to end this conversation. “That is why we’re here.”
By the time we got to the car, I was sweating and shivering, and surlier than ever. Stepping inside the heated SUV, however, had me nearly whimpering with gratitude. Thankfully, Harrison finally left me in peace. The drive to the hotel didn’t take long but the silence between me and my new ‘employee’ was awkward. While I was now a pro at negotiations, small talk with a stranger was still not my forte. Usually, I had Patrick to help me navigate. Harrison seemed unbothered by the quiet, typing away on his phone.
But when he started snapping selfies, I snapped.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
“Smile.” He aimed his phone at me.
Oh, fuck no.
“Don’t.”
“It’s for socials,” he replied with a smirk. “You know, that thing that helps us market to customers?”
I gave Harrison my best finger for his sarcasm, and all he did was laugh. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I didn’t care. Thank fuck Trevor wasn’t around to witness how we’d already stampeded over HR rules. And Harrison’s behavior reminded me of what happened at that college party, the reason why I loathed social media to begin with. I had to be there now, but I let my assistant post for me, and only as it related to work. Personally, I kept myself, to myself. I valued my private life—my house, my cat Endor, and my prized collection of first editions—and private it would remain. Who the fuck cared anyway? At heart, I was still an introverted kid who preferred the company of a book, and my cat, to any person or party.
“And a picture of my face is going to help? It’s certainly not going to close this deal,” I scoffed. “Or, am I missing a brilliant rationale?”
Harrison sighed and gave me a patronizing glare. “It’s showing there’s a human side to the company. Real people. Jonassa’s CEO posts a lot about their community programs here in Canada and in Europe, and the impact they have. They like to work with people and companies that do the same. Surely, you’ve done your research?”
“Save your pitch for the meeting,” I growled.
“But pitching’s what I do best, Aaron,” Harrison quipped. “Catching comes in a close second.”
He was just trying to rattle me, but I refused to take the bait. Fucker.
When the car came to an abrupt stop, I was the first one out the door. There was no denying the scenery was breathtaking; snow-capped mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. The hotel was just as stunning, built of honey-colored stone and topped with dramatic turrets that reminded me of a French chateau. The wind had picked up since we left the airport, with gusts of powdered snow flying everywhere. Then I noticed that there was hardly anyone walking around the resort. Weird.
“Looks like we got here just in time,” Harrison remarked.
“Time for what? The first meeting’s not for another three hours.”
“Not that. Didn’t you look at the forecast?” he stared at me, and I shook my head. “Are you serious? There’s a blizzard on the way. They’re expecting a record twenty-five inches of snow over the next couple of days.”
“So what? This is Canada, in winter. Snowstorms are common.”
“Not like this.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I didn’t. At least, not until we stepped inside the hotel.