4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Entering the suite, I toss my key card onto the entry table after closing the door. From the foyer, I scan the room and re-familiarize myself with the room that is basically my second home. I don’t know why I do it. It’s not as if anything has changed since the last time I was here. I book The Cerulean for our annual business retreat, and every year, the suite is the same.
There are three ornate oil paintings hung in the living room, and a coffee table that seems like it belongs in a museum rather than a resort suite. And then there’s the couch that I definitely haven’t missed, which is as uncomfortable and stiff as it looks. The primary bedroom comes with an attached en suite bathroom, but so do the other two. My company and I have been vacationing here for years; I know this place like the back of my hand.
On top of the fact that I don’t stray from routine, everyone knows me here. I always receive top-quality service. And I wouldn’t be caught dead in some second-rate hotel . No, this resort is the best of the best, with exemplary amenities, enough activities to make you never want to leave, and staff that are… ideal. This is where we can all come to unwind.
Until I run into her—Monroe. And like a powder keg, our volatile natures react, setting each other ablaze. Every time. It’s hard to ignore her presence—or avoid her—as she’s a waitress at my favourite on-site bar.
If this afternoon’s reaction to seeing her is any indication of where I am on the scale, I have no choice but to avoid her. It’s like my body has been asleep all this time, and for some reason, whenever I see her, it wakes up. I write it off as completely biological, but the fact that I don’t react to any other woman this way back home makes me question things.
The altitude, the heat, or countless other factors probably explain this bothersome, empty feeling. I’m overthinking one semi-interaction with an infuriating member of staff. One I can’t stand to be around. If our yearly pattern is up to par, we will be fighting like animals come breakfast tomorrow.
It’s a safe and predictable bet. One I’ll happily go all in on. I feel sick from the internal debate and wipe my face with my hand. When I get to the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face. Once. Twice. A knock on my door pulls my attention away from the bedroom and my hope to call it a night early.
I don’t hesitate to open the door, knowing it can be only one of two people. And like I expected, it’s Nico. I’m met with his arrogant smirk and pungent cologne.
He leans against the door, eyes narrowed as he takes me in. “What’s with your hair?”
I shove a hand through my hair, smoothing it down. “Nothing is wrong with it.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says with a toothy grin. “I was just messing with you.”
“Hilarious.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Nico cocks his head, coaxing me out of the room. He closes the door behind me. “That’s why I’m your favourite.”
I scoff. “You’re not my favourite.”
We walk side by side to the elevator. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Charlotte has that honour.”
I push the call button, fully ignoring him.
“I still can’t picture it—the two of you. You’re like water and oil.”
Tapping my foot, my eyes never leave the muted maroon carpet under my feet.
But Nico doesn’t let up. “I never pictured you as the type to mix business and pleasure. You’re too uptight for that, but you surprised me.”
“If you shut up right now, I will buy you as much whisky as you can drink.”
Nico feigns pondering my offer, scratching his chin like he’s deep in thought. The elevator finally arrives.
“You just said the magic words.”
We get to The Cortes, my favourite bar, and my head is spinning. Nico talked my ear off the entire elevator ride. I’m mildly surprised to see the rest of my employees and Wendell gathered and conversing at a table. Nico abandons me to take a seat beside Lucy, a fact that a scowling Karim doesn’t miss.
I take the empty seat beside Wendell, with Charlotte on his other side. She stares at me, her eyes wide, taking me in from head to toe. A vicious comment that would no doubt make everyone double down on the idea that I’m a heartless bastard is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back. I don’t want to spoil the mood this early into our trip. So I stay silent, my default when I have nothing of value to add to the conversation.
For the last half hour, I’ve been casually scanning the crowded bar, just making sure Monroe isn’t here. This is the right place, I’m sure of it, but she hasn’t made an appearance. I should be grateful that my plan to avoid her is working so far.
But it seems I spoke too soon.
“Your drink,” Monroe says, sweet enough to choke on.
She’s playing up the role of the cheery waitress because we have an audience, but I know what’s lying in wait for me when it’s just the two of us. Five years have proved she’s capable of following through on her threats.
As Monroe puts the glass of whisky down on the table and pulls away, her hand accidentally knocks the glass over, sending the contents directly into my lap. Perfect . But the glint in her eyes tells me it was anything but an accident. Her hands fly to her mouth, eyes wide and apologetic. Her acting has definitely improved since last year.
“I am so, so sorry,” she says, grabbing some cocktail napkins from her tray and throwing them at me.
I catch them and her eyes, smirking. My team and Wendell are watching the scene, silent as the dead.
“Not a problem. Accidents happen.”
My lips pull, and I almost break, but I curb my emotions and dab at the dark patch on my pants. Monroe frowns at my reaction. Clearly, she was looking for something more.
She says something under her breath but smiles. “Let me get you a fresh drink.”
“You’re too kind,” I say, coughing to cover my amusement.
She takes off like a shot. Round one: Alden.
Her little games to get under my skin are a minor annoyance, and I can handle most of them. The itching powder in my suit, the misplaced golf clubs, getting food poisoning. Okay, maybe that last one wasn’t her, but I always suspected she had a hand in it. Throughout the years, things with us have only gotten more intense. But I can’t say that I want it to stop, either. It’s intriguing, seeing what she’ll do next.
She brings me another drink without incident and walks off. I trail her retreating form and sip my drink mindlessly. The burn coats my throat, a pain I’m well acquainted with. My eyes close, and I tune out the hollering and loud voices around me.
“Just wanted to say thanks for inviting me,” Wendell says in my ear, low enough for only me to hear.
I smirk, eyes still closed. “You never have to thank me for something like inviting you on my business vacation, Wendell.” I take another, longer sip of whisky, as if it will dull the constant ache in my chest. “Get back to me once you’ve spent some uninterrupted time with these people. If you haven’t ripped all your hair out, you’re a better man than me.”
I didn’t mean for that last part to be so harsh. I’m not jealous of my best friend. I’m happy with my life and where it’s going. But if we compare which line of work is more noble, I’d lose every time. Where Wendell uses his argumentative skills for ethical government advising, I use mine to help the rich circumvent laws and increase their wealth. Not very noble of me.
And unlike me, Wendell doesn’t cower at the thought of a relationship. He is in a healthy and happy one, with a woman who is good for him, who brings out the best in him, and who loves him wholly. Something gnaws on my insides every time I think of Wendell and Violet. How complete they are with each other.
I learned a long time ago that I will only end up hurting myself more if I yearn for things I can never have. My wealth allows me virtually anything I want in this life, but if I were a smarter man—a better man—I would yearn for that. For a safe place to land.
Smiling rigidly, I open my eyes and face Wendell. “I’m glad you’re here, man.” And I mean it. I don’t think I could survive this trip without him.
He nods and clears his throat, slapping my back. I tune back into the conversation at hand, thinking that everyone must think that I’m being rude as it is. I should throw them a crumb.
“I bought the newest Porsche at the time with my first paycheck. What do you think you’ll buy with yours?” Nico asks Lucy, the newest member of our team.
I hired her as soon as she graduated. She was at the top of her class at Harvard, and I scooped her up before anyone else could. And offered her a salary she couldn’t refuse. But her financial literacy is something even I come up short at. So hiring her and keeping her is a top priority for me. The board has been demanding that I show her exactly what AOVD Wealth Group is made of.
She takes a demure sip of her whisky before answering. “Oh, um, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought too much about it. I’m not really into cars, so maybe I’ll just invest it.”
Lucy scans the table, assessing our reactions. Everyone bursts out laughing, and even I throw out a small chuckle. Whether Lucy’s joke was intentional, it lands. Joking about investments in the company of people who work for a wealth group does its job.
The laughter dies down, and I think they will move on to a new topic of conversation, given how uncomfortable Lucy clearly is, but no, Nico has to keep pressing.
“Come on, lighten up, Luc. I’m just asking a hypothetical question here. Just play along,” Nico says, laughing over the rim of his glass.
He is the most assertive person on my team, and I’m getting a glimpse of how that translates outside the office. My mood is already beginning to spoil. Nico raises his brows expectantly, urging Lucy to answer his question. She shifts under his intense stare, looking at Karim for an out.
Immediately understanding, he pipes up. “My Jetta’s on its last leg; I think it’s about time I shop around for something new.” He pauses, then adds, “Maybe we could browse some Porsches together sometime, Nico?”
A few scattered chuckles ring out from the table, but Nico’s eyes never leave Lucy. “Yeah, that’s nice, Karim.” He inches closer to her, invading her personal space. “I asked you a question, newbie.”
I swallow my whisky before glowering at him. “Lay off, Nico. Go get another drink or find a woman who is actually interested in talking to you.”
Nico eventually pries his attention from Lucy and mumbles something about grabbing another drink from the bar. He stands and heads over there.
Tension lingers in the air, so I add, “A Jetta, huh? What are you, a ninety-year-old grandma?”
Karim’s unease fades instantly, along with Lucy’s; her shoulders relax.
“I might drive a piece of crap for a car, but remind me again what you drive, Alden?”
I take another healthy sip of my drink, feeling lighter already. “I don’t. Never got my licence. I have people for that.”
Wendell snickers at Karim’s expression, eyeing me for a moment before returning his focus to his phone. As if just now realizing what the conversation is about, Charlotte leans forward, her eyes fixed on Wendell.
“How about you? Do you drive, Wendell?”
He looks up. “When your dad tries to control every facet of your life, getting your licence at fifteen is all the excuse you need to piss him off.”
“Well, isn’t that… nice,” Charlotte hums. Her tone is pleasant enough, but her eyes hold a myriad of judgments. “I’ve always wanted to ask, and since I have you here,” she continues, a little perkier this time, “what was it like growing up with Alden?”
I’ve been waiting for her to ask him that, sensing it from a mile away. Charlotte’s misplaced attachment hasn’t been as glaring as it is now. She didn’t have any interest in asking him about me before today, but ever since we started sleeping together almost a year ago, I have the feeling that she’s been dying for any morsel of information about me she can get.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Wendell says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Pretty normal?”
I make sure not to give away any reaction, but I’m finding this line of questioning less than amusing. Can we go back to the car thing, please?
“You have to tell me a story from when you were kids. I’m just dying to know. I’m sure little Alden was just the cutest thing.”
Someone put me out of my misery.
An uncomfortable sensation makes my chest tighten, and a stiff breath rushes out of me. Wendell slides me a glance before looking back at Charlotte. She’s excitedly waiting for anything he’s willing to tell her.
“Okay, uh…” Wendell thinks for a moment before he answers her. “I’ll tell you about the time that we got banned from the yacht club.”
Charlotte claps her hands together, resting her elbows on the table, and gives Wendell her undivided attention. He tells her and the group a safe story, one that he knows I don’t mind him sharing.
He goes on to tell a childhood prank: when we were seven, I convinced him to steal a bottle ship from the club, and we experimented to see if it would float. We ended up being reprimanded by the club and our parents, never allowed to set foot inside the club again. Even to this day.
“First of all, I didn’t make you steal the thing. You practically volunteered to do it.” I snicker, watching Wendell’s eyebrows hitch higher. “I might have heavily implied that you should be the one to lift it, that’s all,” I finish, a sly smile on my face.
Wendell punches my arm, laughing. “You were such a dick, even back then.”
Another hour flies by, and I relax marginally. It’s been helpful to have my old friend, whisky, by my side to ease my nerves. For the second time tonight, I’m surprised by those around me. Usually, no one on my team gets along on account of their ranging personalities—aside from Lucy and Karim. But the night has gone smoothly and without so much as one argument. The misplaced tension I’ve been holding on to vanishes, and I think I’m actually having a good time.
My eyes snag on Wendell, who has been keeping to himself for most of the night since telling that story from our childhood.
His phone has distracted him all evening, the thing glued to his face. My best guess is that he is texting Violet because he is smiling like a love-stricken fool. It was Violet who convinced Wendell that he should tag along this year and push himself out of his comfort zone. She’s good like that, giving him the gentle nudge he needs to put himself out there.
I look past Wendell to Charlotte, who has been guzzling down drink after drink. Her voice grows louder and her tongue looser. She hasn’t said anything damning yet, but I just know the drunker she gets, the harder it will be to stop her from accidentally divulging sensitive information about me. Or us. And I really don’t need that tonight. Between the panic attack and the full day of travelling, I am exhausted.
Charlotte stands up abruptly, almost knocking her drink on herself, but Wendell, with his quick reflexes, snatches it before that can happen. She is a giggling mess, and I know that it’s time to get her back to her room. A single nod to Lucy, and she stands up, understanding me. Lucy tries to grab Charlotte’s arm, but Charlotte only shrugs her off, nearly falling. I stand and steady her.
“My knight in shining armour,” she coos, her speech slurred from the alcohol. The scent of it on her breath makes my stomach jolt. “Who would’ve thought you could be so nice?”
A knot forms inside my chest, crystalizing each vein and artery. It’s an offhand comment, but it strikes a chord.
She is still in danger of possibly wiping out, so my hands fly to her waist. She levels me with a look, one I recognize all too well. Charlotte fists my shirt and leans in, but I pull back just as fast. She is drunk off her ass, and I’d never do anything when she’s compromised like that. I’m also not interested, which I made clear the last time she begged me to sleep with her.
With a quick step back, she recoils yet maintains her grip on my shirt. The heat in her eyes fades as I become unresponsive.
“Really?” she scoffs, her voice getting higher, angrier.
“I don’t know how much clearer I can make it, Charlotte.” I lean in. “It’s not going to happen. Ever again.”
Even if I was interested, she has to know that coming on to me in front of everyone and making a scene would make me uncomfortable.
“You’re like a broken record, Alden. You always say you’ll never come back, and then you do. You’ll give in. I know you will.” Charlotte’s fingers graze my belt, and I grab her wrist.
“Don’t touch me,” I snap.
She wiggles her wrist out of my hold and pulls back, almost tipping over. Lucy is there to grab her, to usher her to the nearest elevator. But Charlotte has other plans. She looks down at Wendell, who is still on his phone.
Loudly, she says, “If you don’t want to play with me, I’ll just have to find the fun elsewhere.”
Before I can ask what she means, Charlotte rips Wendell’s phone out of his hands.
“It’s rude to be on your phone all night, Wendy,” she slurs. She dances in place as she holds the phone high over her head.
Wendy . That’s a new one. Wendell stands up, reaching for the phone, but Charlotte is surprisingly good at keep-away.
“What are we, in high school? Give me back my phone, Charlotte,” Wendell asks, a little too nicely.
A devious glint shines in her eyes. “No.” She dips her head. “I think I should share with the class.”
Charlotte laughs to herself hysterically, but no one laughs with her. Not even Nico. He only smiles and continues sipping his whisky, clearly amused by what is happening. But he won’t dare get involved. He knows that I’ll bite his head off before he can even get a word out.
“Don’t be like this, Charlotte,” Lucy adds, but Charlotte just ignores her.
She meets my eyes. “Last chance. Come up with me to my room, and I’ll stop.”
I stand my ground and shake my head.
Charlotte clears her throat dramatically. “To Violet: I miss you so much it hurts ,” she quotes in a breathy and mocking tone. “Oh my god, this is putrid. Do you actually talk to your girlfriend like that?”
Wendell’s jaw ticks. “She’s my fiancée. And yes, I do.”
He turns a shade I’ve never seen on him, a cross between embarrassed and angry. And Wendell never gets angry. It takes him a lot to get there. Having been on the receiving end only a handful of times myself. To stop him from combusting, I decide to end this. I tower over Charlotte since she’s at least a foot shorter than me.
“Give me the phone, Charlotte, now.” My voice is controlled but pointed. But Charlotte doesn’t seem to care. It’s like I’m talking to a child, not a grown woman.
She raises a brow at me. “We’re touchy today, aren’t we?”
“ We are not in the mood.” I step even closer to her. “Know your place, or I’ll be forced to remind you of where you stand.”
“My place?” She tips her head up so that she is in my ear. “I didn’t have a problem remembering my place when it was in your bed.” She leans back, her lashes fluttering innocently.
I draw back, viscerally irked. That’s all I really am to her—a piece of meat she thinks she can manipulate at every turn.
“Everything that happened between us was a mistake. And I won’t let you keep bringing it up as a way to control me.” I hold out my hand. “So give me the phone.”
Charlotte whines, stomping her foot. “Alden, baby, you’re hurting my feelings.”
Good.
“What do I have to do to get you to come back with me? Because I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”
My voice is low, but I know the rest of the group is staring at us. “You’ve already done enough, Charlotte. You ignore me when I say no and just do what you want. And I’m tired of it. Of you and the constant drama. Now, you can let Lucy take you up to your room, or you can hand me your transfer notice in the morning. It’s your choice,” I say forcefully.
Charlotte’s eyes darken, and her expression shifts, and I know my words hit their mark. She shoves Wendell’s phone against my chest.
“Fuck you, Alden,” she seethes.
She scurries out of the room with Lucy hot on her tail. I don’t feel a shred of regret for what I said to her. She was being immature and cruel, and someone had to put her in her place. I take a deep breath, turning back to the table. Everyone is quiet, and no one is laughing anymore. Even Nico’s smile is gone.
Judging by their faces, it looks like I ruined the mood anyway, so I push on. “I’ll remind you all that just because we are on vacation, that doesn’t mean you get to act any less than how you would if we were still in the office. This is a work event, and you’d all do well to remember that. If you have a hard time grasping that concept, I’ll be more than happy to remind you all just how replaceable you are.”
A whisper of terror ghosts everyone’s faces. I don’t bother looking at them anymore. They know what they did and how they acted. I’ve already played the role of a disappointed parent enough for one day. I hand Wendell his phone as I pass by and head out of the bar.
My jaw ticks the farther away from the bar I get. I can drown myself in whisky for the rest of the night in my room. Alone. The mood has definitely shifted, and I really didn’t want to make a scene on our first night, but it seems like it was unavoidable. My nerves spike the more I think about rallying my team to steer them toward our goal. My goal. The board’s goal.
If tonight’s poor show of comradery and professionalism is any index for how this vacation will go, I need to make some changes. Rather than mope like I planned to, I pull out my laptop, newfound determination and anxiety propelling me into action. The bottle of whisky next to my computer is half empty by the time I finish, and my eyes sting from staring at a screen for hours.
My joints groan as I heave myself from the couch and make my way to the bedroom. My stomach sloshes when I lie down. And my eyes close on their own, and I’m just drunk enough not to fight it.