34. Morgan
Morgan
“Well, look at you not strangling the chair this time,” Scarlett teases as we lift off the ground into the sky.
And she’s right. Even though we are literally over the ocean within seconds of leaving the ground, I am more relaxed than during previous flights.
Probably because I’ve gotten used to traveling again.
I still hold my breath at the beginning and end, but considering this trip has been a baptism by fire for me, I think I’m doing pretty well.
“I think living through that storm, both in the air and on the ground, helped with that a little,” I say, and Scarlett rests a hand on my leg.
“Well, I’m proud of you,” she says, and I snort a little at that. “What?” she asks.
“You make it sound like I should get a gold star for not shitting myself on a flight,” I scoff.
“Hey. A lot of people are afraid of flying. For all kinds of reasons,” she says.
“Yeah well, not everyone has no known fears,” I tell her, and she shrugs.
“True.”
“Alright, so next up is the Keys,” Donovan says, diving into work mode. “Florida Keys, not to be confused with the Sapphire Keys in Miami,”
“Obviously,” I say, but he dodges my sarcasm.
“The resort is the Sunset,” he says for Scarlett’s benefit, probably unaware that she already knows all this. “It is arguably one of the most popular resorts of them all.”
“You say that about all of them,” she chuckles.
“Yes. But the Sunset is always booked out. Between being in Florida and one of the most popular travel points in the state, it rarely has a spare room.”
“And we’ve booked the E-suite, yes?” I ask. Because, for the most part, we haven’t given the hotels too much of a heads-up that we are coming. I wanted some spontaneity in it so they wouldn’t over-prepare or sweep anything under the rug.
“Yes, we have the E-suite,” Donovan confirms. “Unfortunately, between you showing your face at your own resorts for the first time since college and your traveling with a social media celebrity, our travels have become somewhat of a spectacle.”
“Meaning?” I ask.
“It’s getting a little hard to hide our travel agenda. People predicting where you two will be next and the hotels are booking out in that order.”
“Like paparazzi?” Scarlett asks.
“Or fans?” Donovan offers an alternative word.
“And how are they figuring it out?” I ask. “We haven’t leaked our itinerary to anyone.”
“No, but people are following us at airports too.”
“Jesus,” Scarlett lets out. “Who knew we’d be so popular?”
“I didn’t,” Donovan says.
“Me neither,” I snap. “And I don’t love it.”
“I guess there’s nothing wrong with fans,” Scarlett says, remaining ever positive about the situation. “Even if it is a little creepy that people are watching where the plane is going. How are they even doing that with a private jet?”
“You’d be amazed at what people can figure out,” Donovan says.
“Have Max step up the security at the Sunset,” I tell him, and he nods.
“Pretty sure they’re already on it. Even though most of the staff don’t know what’s up, we’ve had to leak our plans to at least management and head of security.”
“Good.” I nod. Then I take Scarlett’s hand in mine. She’s suddenly looking a little uneasy, a look she doesn’t usually show. And the last thing I want is for her to be nervous. It’s not like I’d ever let anything happen to her.
* * *
“What do you mean the E-suite is booked out?” I demand as we stand at the front desk of the Sunset.
And Donovan wasn’t wrong; the place is a madhouse.
It’s usually busy from the numbers I’ve seen.
It’s also vacation season. But people’s phones have been pointed at us since we walked in the door.
It’s like we are actual celebrities and I’m not loving it.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman says frantically.
“Mr. Bale,” I correct her.
“Yes, Mr. Bale. We were unaware you would be here today, and when the previous booking was canceled, another guest booked it.”
“Canceled?” I ask, and then Donovan steps in.
“Do you happen to know who canceled Mr. Bale’s reservation? And who booked it out after?”
“From the looks of it, the cancellation was done internally,” she says.
“Of course it was,” I snap, wiping my hand down my face.
“Conrad?” Scarlett asks, connecting the dots I should have already seen.
“Conrad,” Donovan echoes.
“And let me guess,” I say to the girl. “There are no other rooms available.”
I am doing my best not to lose my shit on her right now.
Obviously, she’s just the middleman here, and none of it is her fault.
Almost nobody in this entire hotel could have prevented a change made to the system by Conrad, though I do have the power to reverse it.
Problematically, that would mean putting a high-paying guest out of a place to stay, which I am not going to do.
“We are…booked solid,” she says with the fear of God in her eyes.
“Good lord,” Scarlett whispers, and I swear her knees are shaking.
“You doing alright?” Donovan asks, and she swallows hard with a nod.
“Yeah, it’s just warm in here and there’s a lot of people,” she says.
But I’m not okay. I’m not okay with any of this. The crowd. The switch up. The inconvenience.
It’s all getting out of control, and if I had to guess, Conrad is behind more of it than we originally thought.
“I’m going to sit down,” Scarlett says, heading with her bag over to the edge of the fountain in the middle of the room. Meanwhile, we turn our attention back to the desk, which is now being manned by Max, the manager of the resort.
“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Bale,” he says. “I don’t know how it wasn’t prevented.”
“I do,” Donovan mutters, and I know too.
“We do have a couple of bookings made in the last hour that don’t have full confirmation yet. If you want, I can cancel one of them and–”
“No,” I say. “If anyone finds out that I kicked a guest to the curb for my own benefit, I’ll never hear the end of it. And between all the oglers and my brother, people will find out.”
“What would you like to do?” Donovan asks, and I bite my lip for a moment.
“There is another option,” Max offers. “While it’s not ideal, it would provide somewhat of a solution.”
“Name it,” I tell him. Because at this point I’m stuck. If I boot someone out of their room, it looks bad and Conrad wins. If I leave and head to the next hotel, Conrad wins. No matter what, it looks bad. Hail Mary’s are all I have right now.
“The Island Sun has multiple suites available,” Max says, and Donovan barks out a laugh.
“Are you actually suggesting that the owner of Bale Resorts stay at a sister hotel?!”
And while it does sound bad, I don’t completely hate the idea.
Several of our more popular resorts are partnered with Garrett Resorts, a company that my father decided to work with in case things like this happened.
During peak seasons, when rooms run out, my father thought it would be better for guests who wanted to stay at Bale to stay at a sister hotel than at another brand entirely.
The perk of these hotels is that any of the restaurants, spas, and pools are open to the guests at the sister hotel too.
“The E-suite at Island Sun is actually one of the most secluded, with a private hot tub, priority room service, and private beach access, as well as extended hours for the pool.”
“Unbelievable,” Donovan mutters, but I have to be honest. The words private and secluded sound nothing short of ideal right now. Between the storm in the Bahamas and the crowd here, I’d stay at a motel if it meant having some breathing room.
“You know what? It’s fine,” I say. “It might actually be bet–”
“Is Scarlett okay?” Donovan interrupts, and my attention whips over to her. She’s still sitting on the edge of the fountain, and people are staring, taking photos, and gasping.
That’s when I notice her shoulders heaving, kind of in the way you would shudder if you were crying but more dramatically. Immediately my gut sours, and I know something is wrong.
“Mom, there’s a lady throwing up in the fountain!” A boy behind us in line says, while tugging on his mom’s shirt and pointing at Scarlett.
Donovan, Max, and I all rush to her at the same time. Scarlett looks up at us, completely mortified.
“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping her lip. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. If it’s just too hot or–”
“Security, I need a medic by the fountains, ASAP,” Max says into a walkie, but Scarlett shakes her head, her eyes widening.
“No, I’m okay. I don’t want to cause a scene,” she begs. “Did you get us a room?”
“We have a room,” I tell her, scooping her up in my arms. Meanwhile, Donovan grabs her bags.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to the medic?
” Max asks, his eyes filled with panic. Between him and the girl at the desk, I bet they think they’re going to be fired.
Obviously, they’re not. This shitstorm is the fault of only one person.
Someone I will deal with accordingly. After I make sure Scarlett is okay.
“I’m okay, really,” Scarlett insists as I lay her on the bed of the suite at the Island Sun. “I’m pretty sure it was just the chaos of it all,”
“You’re still going to be evaluated by a medic,” I insist. “Donovan is getting them now.”
“I was just a little anxious,” she argues.
“A little anxious?” I echo. “You threw up in a fountain.”
Scarlett covers her face. “I did. And I’m sure it will be all over social media too,” she sighs.
“Don’t worry about that,” I tell her. “We can deal with that later. Right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Scarlett pulls her hands back and props herself up on her elbows. “Morgan, I promise I am fine. I just–”
Suddenly, there is a knock at the door, and a moment later, an EMT walks in with a smile.
“Hello. I’m TJ. I heard someone wasn’t feeling too hot?”
“Cheese and rice,” Scarlett mutters, flopping back down on the bed again.
As the EMT begins vitals and a string of routine questions, my phone starts to buzz in my pocket. Against my better judgement, I pull it out. It’s an overload of media notifications as well as a text from Donovan.
Donovan- Don’t worry. I’ll do damage control. Someone can wipe these photos.
I clench my jaw. I don’t even have to look at the photos to know what they are of. Probably me losing my cool with the front desk girl and Scarlett in the background spewing into the fountain.
Awesome.
That said, I am too heated to be in this room.
I decide that I am most likely only going to add to Scarlett’s stress (which is the last thing I want) and make my way out of the room to give them some privacy and me some air.
But as I pace angrily, I realize I’m not going to be able to let any of this simply slide.
Because someone is at fault. And I’m going to rip that someone a new one.
“You got a lot of nerve, you know that?” I bark into the phone.
I was going to text Conrad, but I decided to call instead.
Considering our legal circumstances, the less paper trail, the better.
Not that he can’t record our phone calls.
But honestly, I don’t give a fuck if he’s broadcasting this conversation on Good Morning America right now.
“I’m sorry?” he asks, clearly playing dumb. It’s not hard for him.
“Do you really think I’m not onto you and everything you’re doing?” I ask.
“Listen. The Keys are a very popular hotspot. And a lot of people will pay good money for the E-suite. Who are we to hog it?”
“I am trying to save our resorts from failure,” I snap.
“And I am trying to do the same.”
“By sabotaging me?” I growl.
“By proving the point that you are not and never have been fit to run this company,” he argues.
“You have no leg to stand on here,” I say.
“No? Because I feel like your spur-of-the-moment engagement to a woman no one even knew existed before this trip and all the other unsavory photos flying around the web right now say differently. And your fiancé puking in the fountain didn’t really help,”
“You do know that I have a lawyer too, right?” I ask.
“I’m aware. But your little sideshow on social media isn’t distracting me from the truth,” he snaps back.
“Which is?”
“That you pretend like you’re running this company in a way that would honor mom and dad, but from day one you’ve just been hiding. I’m pretty sure the way you do things would make them sick. What happens behind the scenes is what matters. And I’ll see you in court.”
After that, I am pretty much done. I don’t even know what possessed me to call him in the first place. It’s not like he was going to have a mature conversation. As the door to the room opens and the medic steps out, I hang up on my brother. He is not my priority right now.
“Is she okay?” I ask. “Do you know what’s wrong?”
“Nothing serious,” he says calmly. “If I had to guess, stress from travel and the heat. I just recommend rest and lots of fluids. Good food. Less media presence, if possible.”
“Right.” I nod. Another version of me would probably be frustrated or even offended right now.
But honestly, I’m sick of people and photos and media, and everything else.
The Island Sun suite might be exactly what we both need tonight.
And if Scarlett wants to post about it later, knowing we have sister hotel options wouldn’t be a bad thing for followers.
“I definitely recommend slowing down a little, Mr. Bale,” he says and while that’s a very typical suggestion to make, something about the way he says it, the tone and the look in his eyes, feels like it goes deeper. But I’m too overwhelmed to read between the lines right now.