Chapter 26
“No better reason for us to rush this holiday crush, I wanna be cuffed”
Wren pranced into The Haven Monday morning, her heels clicking a triumphant rhythm against the polished floors. Energy crackled through her veins like champagne bubbles.
“Good morning,” she sang, her voice carrying the honeyed warmth of a woman thoroughly fucked for the first time in thirty years. “How was everyone’s weekend?”
“Not nearly as good as yours, apparently.” Lilly sipped a macchiato from a signature juice glass.
“I did have a great weekend.” Rich, dark caffeine perfumed the air. “Did Freya add something new to the menu?”
“Oh, this? No, the CEO dude made it for me.”
“Mr. Drummond?” Wren’s brow furrowed. “Have all of his charges been calculated?”
“Not yet. He’s decided to extend his stay.”
“What?” Wren’s smile plummeted. “Why?”
“He said he’d finally started to understand the charm and wants to grasp the immersive experience more fully. A guy like that could really help us, Wren. He invests in companies all over the world.”
“We don’t need any help.”
“I mean, not right now. But all those expansion plans you discussed? That stuff’s expensive. Getting involved with a venture capitalist like Greg might not be bad.”
“Greg?” Feeling like this was rehearsed, Wren stiffened. “Lilly, what we discuss in meetings is private. Mr. Drummond doesn’t understand the first thing about disconnecting from screens and reconnecting with nature.”
“That’s why he wants to stay. He wants to understand.”
“Well, he’s welcome to shop the service menu, but we’re not looking for investors.”
“You can tell him yourself. Here he comes.”
Wren spun as the doors swept open and Drummond breezed in, completely transformed. Gone were the tailored suits. He now looked like a cover model for a luxury winter retreat, his cashmere jogger set hugging his frame with bespoke precision.
“Wren, just the woman I was looking for.”
“Mr. Drummond,” Wren greeted with unshakable professionalism. “Lilly informed me you extended your stay.”
“Please, call me Greg. I’ve had a change of heart.” He smiled with an edge that promised trouble. “I was hoping to convince you to have lunch.”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I have yoga class—”
“After.”
“I’m scheduled for a shift—”
“Your schedule’s empty.”
Wren shot Lilly a glare.
“Just sayin’.” Lilly held up her hands.
“So you have time?” Greg’s smile widened.
“Only for client services.”
He plucked a brochure off the rack and flipped to the service menu. “One-on-one yoga sounds perfect. Two o’clock?” He stuffed the brochure back in the rack and tapped the counter as if holding an invisible gavel—decision made.
He didn’t wait for confirmation and as soon as he left, Wren deflated. “Why won’t he go away?”
“I can’t believe you’re complaining. He’s paying tons to stay here and booking private services. When did you become allergic to money?”
“You’re right.” She didn’t know why he irritated her so much. She was used to pushy men. “I’m going to take a walk and reboot.”
After her afternoon class, Noah lingered as usual.
“Have you thought about my dinner offer?”
She finally had a legitimate excuse that wouldn’t damage their teacher-client relationship. “ I’m flattered, Noah, but I have to confess, I’m involved with someone.”
He didn’t appear surprised. “The guy on the boat, right?”
Heat flushed her cheeks. “You saw?”
“Kind of hard to miss a display like that.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but this is very new. I wouldn’t want anything to make coming here awkward.”
“Fair enough.” She appreciated how easily he accepted her decision.
To make things less awkward, she said, “You’re almost getting the sirsasana pose down.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
She smiled. “That’s great. Soon enough, you’ll be able to lead the classes.”
“Nah. No one has your special touch. I’m just here for the experience.” His words filled her with great satisfaction.
After Noah left, Wren refilled her water when a hand suddenly swooped around her waist, scaring the hell out of her.
“How come every time I visit, there’s a stray sniffing around you?” Greyson’s voice rumbled possessively against her ear.
She melted against his strength. “What can I say? I’m charming.”
He bit at her throat. “Mmm, and salty.”
“I just taught a class.” She shoved out of his arms. “I’m sweaty.”
“I don’t mind.” He backed her into the shadows, eyes burning with intensity.
“Grey, I have another appointment in less than an hour.”
“Cancel.”
“I can’t. It’s a one-on-one with Drummond.”
His expression darkened. “Hasn’t it been a week yet?”
“He extended his stay. Apparently, he’s had some enlightenment.” Skepticism colored her voice.
“I’m not buying it.”
“Me neither. He mentioned to Lilly something about being a venture capitalist.” She rolled her eyes.
Greyson’s scowl narrowed. “Watch your back with him, Wren. Guys like that always have ulterior motives.”
“I know.”
Greyson left just before Drummond swaggered into the studio, wrapped in thousand-dollar ath-leisure wear.
“You can leave your shoes at the door, Mr. Drummond.” A loud buzz erupted outside, and she flinched. The unmistakable roar of a chainsaw cut through the air.
Greyson.
Drummond scowled. “What is that?”
“Sorry, we’re having some... maintenance.” Ignoring the disruption, she lowered to her mat. “Let’s start with gentle seated twists.” She directed him through poses as the saw obnoxiously roared against the glass. “Good. Loosen your shoulders and relax,” she said, louder than usual.
“Am I doing this right? I think I need more hands-on help.”
Suppressing a sigh, Wren moved closer to adjust his position.
The windows shook with a BANG and she jumped. Greyson’s form towered on the other side of the glass. He dropped a stack of planks onto the ground and glared at Drummond.
“Must be some big project.”
“I apologize. I’ll speak to the contractor.”
He chuckled. “Your contractor seems territorial.”
Wren’s lips compressed. “Focus, Mr. Drummond.”
“Greg.”
“Focus, Greg.”
A metallic clang ruptured the silence. It was clear Greyson was going to do whatever he could to disrupt their session.
“Ignore everything else and feel the stretch,” she said, trying to recenter herself.
“You’re incredibly flexible.”
“And you’re incredibly chatty. Yoga’s about quieting the mind.”
He chuckled with complete disregard. “I’ll work on that.”
When poses became challenging, he stood. “You know, Wren, I’ve been thinking.”
“We still have poses left.”
Ignoring her, he paced to the window. “There’s a real opportunity here. You have something special, but you’re bottlenecked by budget. Cash infusion could fast-track The Haven to full potential.”
Wren stayed in Warrior Two. “The Haven’s progressing at a comfortable pace.”
He laughed. “You can’t tell me you’re satisfied with only a few guests a week. You shouldn’t limit yourself. You could have a Haven in every major city.”
“I don’t think you understand my vision.”
“Spa retreats in Aspen. Bali. Global recognition.”
“With respect, I’m not interested. I’m interested in finishing this session.” She moved into tree pose. “Try to balance.”
“I’ll try to balance if you consider what I’m suggesting.”
She dropped her arms. “Greg, have you heard the parable about the fisherman and businessman?”
“Sounds like a joke. Is this the one with the pope and the life raft?”
“No. A businessman visits a fisherman. He sees the fisherman catching just enough fish for his family and asks why he doesn’t sell the extra fish he catches instead of tossing them back.”
“Fair question.”
A horrible screech of metal on metal erupted from outside, like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Wren ignored it. “The fisherman explains that he only needs enough for himself and his wife, but the businessman, refusing to listen, offers to buy the fisherman a bigger boat so he can give his wife a better life.”
“Smart.”
“The fisherman turns him down, claiming he’s already living his best life.”
“Some people just lack ambition.”
“The businessman couldn’t understand how the fisherman could be so content with so little.
He didn’t realize that the fisherman was already living his best life, fishing by day, making love under the stars with his wife at night.
You see, Mr. Drummond, I don’t need to build an empire to live a life of riches.
I’m happy exactly where I am, here in my little studio tucked away in the woods of Hideaway Harbor. ”
His forehead wrinkled with genuine confusion. “But you’re leaving so much money on the table.”
“It’s only money. Not everyone values the same riches.”
“Well, smart people do.”
She silently grinned, certain it was a fool who needed the last word. “I think our session’s finished.”
“We still have ten minutes.”
She shook her head. “That’s not enough time for you to change my mind. So unless you’re prepared to really take these poses seriously, I suggest moving on.”
His eyes narrowed. Greg Drummond was used to getting his way, but, when it came to difficult men, Wren had a lifetime of experience. She knew what she wanted and he wasn’t going to change her mind.
Grabbing his shoes, he left in a huff. She used the remaining hour to stretch out her tension.
Minutes later, the studio door creaked open and she looked up at Greyson, toolbelt slung low like a gunslinger’s holster. “Are you done thumping your big tools?”
His mouth quirked. “Just cleaning things up.”
“If by that you mean act like a territorial Neanderthal, you nailed it. Why not just pee a circle around me, Greyson?”
“That guy’s a creep. No way am I letting you near him again.”
“Letting me?” She scoffed. “I’m going to stop you right there, Mister. You aren’t letting me do anything. This is my business.”
“He was scoping out your ass the entire time you were bent over!”
“Because he was trying to mirror the pose!”
“Bullshit. We both know this had nothing to do with yoga.”
“And we both know you weren’t actually working on anything constructive out there, making all that noise just for the sake of being disruptive.”
“The path needed clearing!”
“And what, you couldn’t find a wrecking ball to clear it?” She shoved him. “This isn’t high school, Greyson. This is my career. You can’t dismantle my life because you think I can’t take care of myself.”
He drew back. “Are you serious?”
She scoffed. “Very.”
“You want me to stand by while some creep tries to take advantage of you? No fucking way, Wren.”
“You must really think I’m helpless.”
“What are you talking about?”
She flung out her arms. “You’re still treating me like a child, Grey!”
“How? By protecting you?”
She scoffed. “You can’t keep using that as an excuse. It wasn’t always about protecting me. You were afraid of losing me. That’s why you never let any other guys within ten feet of me.”
He went perfectly still. “I was protecting you.”
“Well, I don’t need your protection. I only want your love.”
The room fell into suffocating silence.
“Say something!”
His glare sharpened. “I warned you. You know what kind of man I am. Maybe I was protecting you for myself all those years. At least I can admit that. What about you, Wren?”
“What about me?”
He laughed without humor. “The least you could do is admit—on some level—you liked it. You liked having my claim on you, knowing I’d go ape-shit if anyone so much as looked at you wrong. You can’t hate me for the same reasons you’re attracted to me.”
“That was high school. Things are different now.”
He scoffed. “No, they’re not. I’ll never stop protecting what’s rightfully mine.”
She looked up at the rafters of the studio. “Well, this place belongs to me. Until you can respect everything that means, I don’t think you should come here anymore.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“You spent the last hour disrupting a one-on-one session with a high paying client—”
“Fuck this. Fine. I’m out of here.”
She thought she could get through to him. She thought she might get him to address his emotions like an emotionally mature man. But, in typical Greyson fashion, he ran away.