Chapter Seventeen #2
Alexander’s expression softened at the mention of his wife. “She’s with our daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren in the waterpark. In fact, why don’t we start our tour there?”
The next hour was a masterclass in what made Neptune’s Kingdom special.
We began in the waterpark, where Alexander’s oldest daughter had brought her family for the weekend.
His grandchildren—a boy around ten and a girl maybe seven—squealed with delight at the sight of him, launching themselves into his arms without any concern for their soaking-wet swimsuits.
Alexander knelt down and gathered them close, his designer polo be damned, his face glowing with pure, undisguised joy.
He truly was the family man he claimed to be. No performance, no pretense, just a grandfather who adored his grandchildren and wasn’t afraid to show it.
From there, we toured the extensive arcade, the ball pit designed for younger kids, the rock-climbing wall that had a line of eager climbers waiting their turn. Every attraction was thoughtfully designed, clearly built with families in mind.
The adult-oriented amenities occupied the second floor—the spa, the fitness center, the upscale bar—and I noticed they were significantly less crowded than the family areas. I could practically see Simon cataloging the observation, filing it away as a potential opportunity for improvement.
Simon didn’t say much during the tour, his expression thoughtful and analytical, so I made a point of engaging with Alexander at every opportunity.
Complimenting the design choices, asking about the history of various features, expressing genuine enthusiasm for what he’d built.
It felt like we were operating as a team—Simon handling the business considerations while I forged the personal connection.
If Chuck hadn’t been such an insufferable ass, I might have felt sorry for him.
His wife remained glued to her phone, contributing nothing to the conversation.
His sons grew increasingly bored and restless, their rough housing requiring constant intervention.
Chuck was trying to kiss up to Alexander while simultaneously parenting, and the strain was showing.
By the time we settled into the resort’s restaurant for dinner, exhaustion and frustration had carved deep lines around Chuck’s eyes.
He shot narrow-eyed glares in my direction whenever Alexander’s attention was elsewhere, clearly blaming me for how poorly his family was comparing to our united front.
Simon noticed. I felt his energy shift as we took our seats at a large table by the windows, a subtle tension entering his frame, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Before he could say anything, I reached for his hand where it rested on the table between us.
His attention snapped to me immediately, the rest of the room fading away like we were the only two people present. Despite the chaos of Alexander’s extended family filling the chairs around us, despite the noise and laughter and clatter of silverware, in that moment it was just us.
I smiled at Simon, silently communicating that I was fine, that Chuck’s petty hostility wasn’t worth acknowledging. To my surprise, Simon leaned in and brushed his lips across my cheek—tender and possessive and perfectly natural. My heart stuttered at how easy it was to be with him.
Dinner conversation stayed carefully away from business. This was the point, really. Alexander wanted to know the men vying for his partnership on a personal level. The deals and numbers could wait. In his estimation, character couldn’t be assessed from a spreadsheet.
“I must confess,” Brenda said as we worked through our entrées, “I looked you up on social media, Raina. I saw that you and Simon attended a Lynx game last week.”
I thought of the selfie I’d coaxed Simon into taking, our faces close together, my bright smile contrasting with his tolerant half-smirk. I’d posted it specifically to sell our cover story, and I was glad now that I had.
“It was an amazing game,” I said. “My brother’s on the team, actually, so I try to—”
“Your brother plays for the Lynx?” A young voice interrupted, and I turned to find Alexander’s grandson—Noah, I remembered—staring at me with eyes the size of dinner plates.
“Noah,” his mother admonished gently, “it’s rude to interrupt.”
But I just smiled. “It’s okay. Yes, my brother is Miles Seager.”
“No way!”
And just like that, I became the most interesting person at the table.
Noah peppered me with questions throughout the rest of the meal.
What was Miles like off the ice, had I ever been in the locker room, could I describe every game I’d attended in excruciating detail?
His enthusiasm was infectious, and by the end of dinner my cheeks ached from smiling.
When I promised to send him some signed merchandise from the team, the burst of joy on his face made Alexander’s eyes go suspiciously glassy.
Simon and I might not have children like Chuck, but I’d made it obvious that there was more to us than just business.
That we cared about people, not just profits.
Simon’s hand stayed clasped in mine through most of the meal, and I found myself marveling at how easy this was. How right it felt. We weren’t performing anymore—we were just… us.