“So, no plus one at all.” She shrugged. “I’ll make the RSVP for one. You should also know that The New York Times is going to print a fairly decent article with a very unflattering headline about you next week.”
“What’s the headline?”
“Soulless Hotelier Will Participate in DocuSeries.”
I picked up my fork. “Do you think I’m soulless?”
“Yes.”
“Is that my worst quality?”
“No,” she said. “You’re also quite evasive.”
“How so?”
“Because I know for sure that you have a twin brother that you refuse to acknowledge for some reason,” she said. “You don’t acknowledge him in your interviews or in any of your biographies. You don’t even mention your parents, so it’s going to be very interesting to see you in a documentary, when you’re never open about anything. Unless … Are you planning to finally talk about your family?”
I held my fork in mid-air, clenching my jaw as I processed her words. “I’m afraid I don’t have a family, Miss Lauren. I’ve told you that several times.”
“I figured.” She stuffed a bite of scallop into her mouth. “Anything else random you’d like to ask, then?”
“Are you dating someone new?”
“What?” She coughed.
“Are you dating someone new?” I repeated, trying to mask my envy.
“When do you honestly think I would have the time to date someone, Preston?”
“Perhaps during all the time we’ve been here, when you’ve spent your nights in my hotel’s private lounge, whispering on the phone for hours instead of being in your room.”
“Why were you stopping by my room in the middle of the night?”
“That’s not the point,” I said. “You weren’t there. Is he another intern?”
“No.” She crossed her arms. “It’s not a ‘he’ at all. It’s my mother.”
“Your mother is in Japan, and she hates talking on the phone.”
“She does, but she’s in the middle of another ‘finding herself’ exercise and she’s required to talk to me for two hours about all of her hopes and dreams to better her ‘aura’ and personal spirits.” She took a long sip of vodka. “She’s also convinced herself that she needs to help me get rid of my negative aura, so we always end up talking for longer.”
“Is she still telling you that winners never quit?”
“Every damn day …”
Thirteen
Tara
Belgium, Switzerland, China, London, France, Australia, Egypt, the Dominican Republic, Canada, Mexico …
I flipped through the pages of my passport as Preston’s private plane flew through the skies. Each sheet was stained with recent stamps from countries I hardly remembered seeing, each one a stark reminder of how drastic my life had changed within two years.
I rented an exclusive condo on Park Avenue that offered weekly rooftop dinners with the best chefs in the city and early access passes to Broadway shows. My wardrobe was full of designer clothes that I once dreamed of wearing, and I no longer had to steal anything to survive. (Well, I still took advantage of the free breakfasts here or there.)
My salary was now double what it was when I started, and I’d earned multiple bonuses. Despite all those things, I still felt miserable as hell.
“Would you like a snack, Miss Lauren?” A flight attendant stepped in front of me. “Your favorite gluten-free trail mix, perhaps?”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” She poured it into a glass bowl and handed me a bottle of water. Then she adjusted the pillow behind my head and whispered, “Mr. Parker wants to know if you would like to stop anywhere else before we land in New York.”
“No, I just want to go home.”
“Very well, Miss.” She walked away, and I picked up my phone to send Ava an email.
* * *
Subject: Trip from Hell (Kind of)
I’m currently on the plane with Preston, so I can’t call you, but I can’t wait to get home and tell you all the shit he put me through this week. He gave me ONE off day, Ava. ONE! (And I don’t even think it counts because he still called me at 2 a.m. for no reason. NO DAMN REASON!
Tara Lauren,
Executive Assistant to Preston Parker,
CEO of Parker International
* * *
She emailed me right back.
* * *
Subject: Re: Trip from Hell (Kind of)
Wait. You’re emailing me from a private plane after spending a week at the #1 Parker Hotel in the world, and you want to come home and complain about your life????
Ava Sanders
Bestie to Tara Lauren of Parker International
Currently Living My Best Life
* * *
Subject: Re: Trip from Hell (Kind of)
I’m honestly starting to feel like I don’t have much of a “life” of my own at all …
Tara Lauren,
Executive Assistant to Preston Parker,
CEO of Parker International
* * *
Shaking my head, I set my phone down and stared out the window until the familiar skyline of New York City came into view.
We landed amidst a slight rainfall, but before I could take my first breath of familiar city air, I overheard Preston talking to the pilot.
“We need to go to Paris,” he said. “Now. Tell Heath to refuel the plane and then get us there ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
I unbuckled my seatbelt and moved to the front of the cabin. “Did I just hear you say that we’re about to go to Paris?”
“Yes.” He looked completely unfazed by this, as if there was no need for him to ask me if this was okay. “There’s been an incident with the senior management at my hotel. We’ll need to be there for a week.”
“Can I at least go home first and get new clothes?”
“I’ll buy you whatever you need there.” He handed me a black card and I noticed my name was now printed under his as an authorized user.
“I just worked with you for two weeks straight in Mexico.”
“And now you’ll work with me for a week straight in France.”
“With all due respect,” I said, feeling an oncoming headache. “I need a break.”
“Then feel free to go to sleep.” He pointed to his private suite in the back. “It’s a nine-hour flight.”
“What if I have plans in New York this week?”
“Do you?”
I groaned and bit my lip. Of course, I didn’t. His plans were my plans. His life was my life, and I couldn’t even separate the two anymore.
“I thought so,” he said. “This week will give you more time to work on your mock presentation, since you’ll soon be attending meetings on my behalf.”
The plane began to move forward, preparing for take-off and I made my way to the back. I started to slam the door, but Preston caught it and glared at me.