I always get my man.
Or in this case, my deal.
“No, I’m good,” I state, waving her off.
“Well, call down to Cliff’s assistant if you need anything. She’s aware we’re interviewing marketing directors today.”
“Fine,” I mumble, running the numbers through my calculator before penciling them in on the draft copy of the contract.
“Do you want to meet the final candidate before we make an offer?” she asks.
“Nope. I trust you.”
Jane sighs. “All right then. I’ll be back up later.”
I wave as she goes, my concentration set firmly on my task at hand.
Thirty minutes later, I sit back, stretching in my seat and smiling at the finished product. Of course, I still have to email it to legal, but I’m damn proud of this contract. I pull up the program and compile an email to both our legal counsel, as well as Cliff, our CFO. Once it’s sent for their review, I stand up and stretch my arms above my head, feeling the pull in my lower back.
Grabbing my phone, I remove the silent feature and fire off a text to Cam.
Me: I need to play basketball. Does the gym still have open court on Thursday nights?
Cameron: Hell yes! It’s been weeks since I’ve played. I’ll text Declan and Ben and have them meet us. Seven ok?
Me: Perfect. See ya then.
I glance at the time before slipping the phone into the front pocket of my trousers. It’s nearing two, and my stomach is staunchly reminding me that it’s empty. Grabbing my keys, I head out of my office, locking it before I go. I also throw the lock on the main entrance, the one that’ll secure Jane’s area too. Then I make my way to the elevator and press the button for the lobby. A few minutes later, I’m deposited onto the ground floor of my family’s hotel.
A quick look at the front counter reveals a couple checking in, as well as a few guys in business suits waiting their turn. I mentally smile to myself, loving the fact we’ve built ourselves into one of the premier destination hotel chains in the US. Not only do we attract lovers and girls’ trips looking to indulge in a wine weekend, but also the business types who are looking for something different for their corporate retreat.
I’m damn proud of this place, and even more so of my grandfather.
When I reach the restaurant, one of the hostesses I’m now familiar with greets me. “Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison. Would you like a table or something delivered to your office?”
“I’ll take a table, Beth. Thank you,” I reply, following behind as she leads me to a small table for two along the back wall. I have a great view of the small restaurant, as well as the front lobby area.
“Your server will be Diego. He’ll be right with you,” she says politely before heading back to her stand.
I glance around, noticing a few other tables with patrons. I’ve always loved this restaurant, even though it’s on a smaller scale. The food is excellent and reasonably priced, which attracts both guests of the hotel, but also locals. No, it’s not quite as busy as The Wine Cellar, but we give them a run for their money.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison,” Diego greets, setting a glass of ice water down in front of me. “Do you need a few minutes?”
“No, Diego, I’m ready. I’d like the crab salad with extra croutons and a bowl of today’s soup,” I state, handing off the closed menu.
“It’s French onion or chicken and rice.”
“Let’s do the chicken.”
“Coming right up, sir.” Diego scurries away before I can chastise him for calling me sir. Then again, I’m the boss now, not just the grandson. I’m going to need to get used to it.
I pull out my phone and glance over my schedule. I have two in-house meetings planned tomorrow, one with finance and the other with operations. They want to discuss renovations to our Miami location, which I’m all for. The manager, Leigh, has been a godsend to the hotel since she started two years ago. Reservation numbers have regularly increased, and the employee overhead has leveled out. For a while there, we went through employees like underwear, changing them all the damn time.
Setting my phone down, I sip the water and glance out to the lobby. That’s when I see a woman. Her back is to me, which gives me the perfect view of her shapely hips and ass in a gray business suit. Her brown hair is down in soft waves of curls, and she’s wearing cute little heels. I’m mesmerized by her, and she hasn’t even turned around.
I watch for several minutes as she visits with one of the front clerks. She stands rigid in front of the counter. Her posture speaks volumes of nervousness and anticipation. The woman wipes her hands down the sides of her pencil skirt, my eyes following the movements as if her legs somehow contain the secret to success. The worst part is, I’m getting hard. Sitting right here, in the middle of my restaurant on a Thursday afternoon, and my dick is getting excited. Even worse yet, I’m seconds away from getting up and asking her to accompany me to my suite.
“Your soup, sir,” Diego says politely, delivering my bowl to my table. He steps right in front of me, blocking my view of the woman at the counter, which irritates me.
“Thank you, Diego.”
“Your salad will be up soon. Enjoy,” he replies before scurrying away.
The moment he moves, my gaze returns to the front counter, only to find it empty. “Damn,” I mumble, feeling let down by the fact she’s gone, which is fucking stupid. I have no idea who she was or what she looked like, yet I sat here and fantasized about her as if I knew her. “Dumbass.”
I definitely need to get laid.
“There he is!” Declan hollers as I enter our old high school gymnasium. I smile at the small group of guys I’ve considered friends since high school. Sure, I was pretty popular and had tons of people itching to hang out with me, but only had a few guys I called true friends.
“Dec,” I state with a smile, heading over and giving him a one-armed bro hug. “Damn, you’ve gotten uglier.”
He laughs, slapping my back. “And you’ve gotten fatter.”
I glance down at my tight T-shirt and basketball shorts. Yeah, there might be a little extra cushion over the abs, but they’re still there. “I can still take your ass.”
“Shit-talking already, are we, Morrison?” Ben asks, coming up and giving me a shoulder bump.
“Damn right, I am. I have years’ worth to make up for,” I tell them, dropping my bag on the bleachers.
“Why am I the last one here? Morrison was always the late one,” Cameron says as he enters the gym.
“Because you’re too busy working now,” Declan smarts off, making Cameron smile.
“We ready to play?” I ask, stretching my legs.
“Yep. Ready to show those young kids who’s the boss of this court,” Ben adds, nodding toward the group of early twenty-somethings playing ball on the other half of the court.
“You better stretch a little more like Eli,” Declan teases.
“We’re only twenty-seven,” Ben argues, yet stretches his legs anyway.
“True, but things are already sore when I get up in the morning,” Cameron chimes in.