4. ALEX
4
ALEX
I fiddled with my blazer button, doing it up and undoing it again, over and over, as I mentally ran over the meeting itinerary.
The boardroom was still empty, and I stood in my favorite spot at the window. The view of the Atlantic Ocean stretched endlessly before me, the water on the horizon merging with the sky.
The door opened behind me, and I looked over my shoulder.
Chris walked in, dressed as immaculately in a tailored suit as I was.
“They’re about ten minutes out,” he said. His eyes were the same color as the sky. “Everything okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why?”
“Just checking.” Chris ran his hand over the light brown hair at the back of his head. He tucked the other hand into his pants pocket.
Christopher Blackwood was a year younger than I was. He was one of my three brothers, but none of us were blood related. We’d all been adopted at one stage or another when we were kids by two Samaritans who hadn’t only given us a second chance in life, they’d also given us a hell of an empire to build.
Blackwood Incorporated had always been my dad’s vision, and we were bringing it to fruition for him.
Chris turned his attention to the view, too. To the south, the horizon met the open ocean where sailboats and luxury yachts—everything that our worlds revolved around—cruised lazily with white sails billowing in the breeze.
Closer to the shore, the harbor entrance was guarded by the iconic Castle Hill Lighthouse, its red roof contrasting against the deep blue sea.
Directly below, the waterfront bustled with activity. People strolled along the promenade, sipping iced coffees, or explored the rows of boutique shops. Their laughter carried up to the boardroom window just below the penthouse where our offices were situated.
I was ever grateful that we’d been given this shot—I was well aware we could have ended up in horrible situations. Hell, I’d been yanked out of an abusive home where I’d been beaten to a pulp more often than I could count in the short time I could actually remember. A haven that had not only saved us but also made us billionaires? That didn’t just happen.
Chris and I got along pretty good. He was easygoing. Sometimes his carefree attitude pissed me off, but he always joked I had a stick up my ass, so it went both ways.
“Ready for this?” I asked.
Chris nodded. “The designs look good. We have a lot to offer. Besides, we’re Blackwoods. They’re lucky as fuck to be in bed with us at all.”
I grinned at him. Chris always had such a way with words.
“Pure poetry,” I said.
The door opened again and this time it was Sarah, our secretary, announcing that the investors had arrived.
They filed into the room one by one—all of them giants in the business world. Tailored suits were their armor, bulging bank accounts their weapons of choice, and the names they’d created for themselves dictated the standard their investments had to adhere to.
It was a tough game here at the top, but we all knew how to play it.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” I said with a smile and Chris and I shook hands with the five investors who had arrived.
“The numbers are looking good,” Nigel Donovan said, rubbing his hands together after everyone had sat down and our secretary had brought in coffee. “The annual yacht show is going to be a banger.”
Nigel was a seasoned yacht broker with his own brokerage firm and a deep understanding of the market. He also had access to a network of high-end clients.
“We aim to please,” Chris said.
In three months’ time, we were going to the annual yacht show in Monaco, the highlight of the year and a place where we would showcase our work and make a metric fuck ton of sales.
“It’s too busy for my tastes, but the sales always excite me,” Henry O’Connell offered.
He was close to retirement but his business savvy in the tech world kept him on top, and he’d made his fortune early in life, releasing software that was impossible to replicate.
He was intrigued by the advanced technology and smart systems in modern luxury yachts, and we often turned to him for collaboration. Chris knew him well.
“Let’s get down to business, if you don’t mind,” Sasha Martinez said, checking the time. “I have a lot I need to get done today.”
The others rolled their eyes, but Sasha only pursed her lips and looked at us.
She was a venture capitalist who specialized in travel and hospitality, and there’d been a time she’d had her sights set on Benjamin, one of my brothers.
He’d turned her down. It had smarted enough that we’d nearly lost her investment, but she’d stayed, and Ben steered clear of meetings where she was present.
The others had been quiet so far, and I glanced at them. Samuel Bennett, who had a background in environmentalism, and Elena Marini, who worked hard on our interiors with us, keeping up with the trends in her design aesthetic.
“Right,” I said. “Of course, let’s get started. We’re excited to present a new yacht to you today. We’re on track to have it ready for the show.”
The investors gasped. “When did this happen?”
I glanced at Chris, who looked pleased with himself. “Where is the excitement if we don’t surprise you with something special once in a while?”
I dimmed the lights, and shutters rolled down over the windows, darkening the room so that Chris could start his presentation. The images of the yacht we were finalizing appeared on the screen.
“I present to you a sleek, two-hundred-foot superyacht boasting an innovative glass-bottom pool that extends from the main deck down to into the crystal-clear waters below.
“It’s a breathtaking fusion of luxury and nature, offering unparalleled views of marine life, whether you’re sipping champagne in the pool or relaxing in the elegantly appointed interior. This yacht is a testament to our commitment to pushing the boundaries of luxury yachting.”
I glanced at the investors, who nodded, impressed.
“I love the idea, Chris,” Victoria Sterling said. She was a successful real estate mogul, known for her luxurious properties and upscale resorts. The yachting lifestyle had always been a personal interest, and she saw the synergy between her real estate ventures and what we did.
“It perfectly complements the high-end properties I’ve been adding to my portfolio. I can already envision offering exclusive yacht experiences to our real estate clients.”
“Incredible.” Henry nodded in agreement. “I like your integration of technology. Smart glass, advanced stabilizers, and the seamless transition from indoors to outdoors—this might well be a game-changer.”
“It’s a stunner, aesthetically. Do you have plans to decorate?” Elena Marini looked excited. She had a lot of input when it came to our interiors, and a lot of our funding for it came directly from her company.
“We thought we’d leave that up to your team,” I said.
“I thought you’d like the tech, Henry,” Chris said with a grin. “I’m glad you’re as enthusiastic as we are.” He glanced at me. “Any questions?”
“Yes, actually.” Nigel spoke up. “It’s nothing to do with the yacht, you’re on the money with that. I’ve heard mention of an activist campaign relating to yacht emissions and their impact on the marine ecosystem.”
“Yes,” Victoria added. “My namesake, Victoria Morgan, is spearheading this the last I heard. You know who she is, don’t you?”
“She can be a pain in the ass,” Samuel Bennett said. “I’m all for saving the environment but there are ways to do it that don’t rub everyone up the wrong way.”
I glanced at Chris, who shook his head. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“She’s a marine biologist with a lot of clout behind her name,” Victoria Sterling clarified. “When she speaks, people listen—even if she can be a pain in the ass”—she glanced at Samuel when she said that—“and we worry about what it will mean for the company once these activists start to hold up signs and march in circles in front of the harbor.”
I sighed. I’d heard mention of this but nothing as outright as what they were referring to. The moment they mentioned environmental activists, my mind drifted to Charlotte. This was her line of work. What were the odds that this was coming up now?
A lull in the discussion drew me back to the conversation. I looked up; everyone was looking at me intently.
I’d missed something. Elena had been the one speaking. I’d thought it might have been about fashion or something, but clearly I’d been called on.
“Have you been following the campaign at all?” Henry asked me.
I froze, suddenly at a loss for words.
Chris cleared his throat and spoke up.
“I understand your concern,” he said, and I was so grateful he stepped up. “But rest assured, we’re committed to sustainability. I’m always considering eco-friendly practices in the manufacturing process. I mean, it doesn’t help having a glass-bottom pool if there’s nothing left to look at.”
“What about the activists?” Sasha asked. “They can cause a lot of trouble and bad press, and we all know that even if it’s baseless, bad press can do a lot of damage.”
I nodded, finally able to speak. “They often focus on the industry giants, and we’re a niche luxury brand. We’ll continue to engage in responsible manufacturing, of course, but it’s unlikely we’ll be a primary target.”
The conversation shifted, the investors apparently happy with what we said, and I lost track again.
My mind wandered back to Charlotte. Last night had been incredible, but this was even more of a sign that it could never happen again. She was my opposite in every way, and if the investors were worried about the activists, being seen with her at all couldn’t be a good idea.
It was better that way, anyway. Not only was she directly opposed to the company, but she was Gabe’s sister. I couldn’t forget about that.
Chris answered a few more technical questions, and the investors seemed satisfied; the meeting was adjourned.
We saw our guests out with smiles and handshakes. Finally we were alone, and I could breathe again.
“That was a great presentation,” Chris said. “They like the yacht.”
“A lot,” I said. “But you always develop something you know will tickle them pink.”
Chris shrugged. “When you’re the best…”
“You’re a Blackwood,” I said with a grin, and he laughed, nodding. “What happened to you when they asked about the activism? Are you worried?”
I swallowed. “No, I’m not.”
“You froze. It’s very unlike you.”
I shook my head. “It’s not about that.”
When I didn’t volunteer anything else, Chris probed for more. “Anything you want to share?”
“It’s just… I met a woman last night, and I can’t get her off my mind.”
Chris whistled through his teeth. “Since when does a dame rattle you in the boardroom? She must be something.”
“She’s an activist.”
Chris raised his eyebrows. “That’s… what?”
“Yeah. Obviously, I’m not seeing her again. It was just a one-night thing; you know I always do it that way. She was just different from the women I’m usually with, that’s all.”
Chris jammed his hands into his pockets and sat down on the edge of the table. “Different how?”
I shook my head, not knowing how to explain it. Charlotte had been everything I’d never known I wanted in a woman, and then it turned out that she was everything I wasn’t allowed to have.
But it was fine—my focus was supposed to be on business. We were releasing a superyacht that would move the needle on our numbers come the yacht show in September, and that was all that really mattered.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said.
“It sounds like a big deal. You know, since you keep saying that it’s not.” Chris cocked a grin at me. “You’re sure about not seeing her again? Even the steely Alex Blackwood is allowed to fall in love, you know.”
“It’s not love. Not by a long shot. And it’s nothing. Really.”
“Right. Maybe I should ask Gabe about it, see if he thinks it’s not a big deal—”
“ No ,” I said sharply. “Don’t say anything to Gabe about it. There’s nothing to say. I’m serious.”
Chris frowned. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing. I told you, it’s nothing.”
Chris shook his head. “The more you say that the more I don’t believe you. You get that, right?”
I groaned and turned on my heel. I stormed away, leaving Chris behind so he could stop pressing me for answers.