Page 4 of Heartless

Madison

Iwalked into the main building of The Gemstone Hideaway Retreat, noticing that every inch of the place screamed luxury. Polished marble floors gleamed under soft, ambient lighting, and floor-to-ceiling windows framed the surrounding hills.

The lobby felt more like a museum—oversized armchairs upholstered in fine fabrics, and sculptures strategically placed to whisper wealth without trying too hard. Parker had spared no expense. But beneath the surface, The Gemstone had a coldness to it, a certain rigidity that matched its owner. It lacked warmth, the charm that made a place feel alive. I appreciated the opulence - the attention to detail was flawless - but it was the beauty that kept you at arm’s length, inviting you to admire it without ever feeling welcome.

I dropped into an armchair, moaning in pleasure as I sank into the cushion. Comfortable. Parker got that right. I dialed Becca. The fight with Parker wasn’t over, but one thing was clear: he would not say no directly, and that gave me leverage. Leverage I intended to use.

Becca and I agreed to schedule another meeting at The Gem around Annie’s availability, and now it was time to break the news to my family. Just as I was searching for my mother’s contact, a shadow fell over me. I glanced up from my phone to find a young woman in uniform staring at me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, annoyed she was standing so close. What kind of training did Parker give his staff, if any?

“Hello, Miss. My name is Melany. You’re not a guest at The Gemstone Hideaway Retreat, correct?” Her tone was polite but firm - she already knew the answer.

“Correct,” I clipped. “I am not.”

“In that case, I’m going to ask you to leave or I’ll call security.”

Security? What was that about?

“Actually,” I leaned back in the armchair, “I like the atmosphere here. I’d like a cup of coffee, Mel. Black. Thanks.”

Melany cleared her throat. “There’s a coffee shop fifteen minutes down the road.”

“Great. I’ll try it after I’m done here - see which coffee is better.” She just stared, so I added, “One black coffee. Please.”

“I don’t serve coffee. I work at the reception desk. You came here to meet with Miss Annie Foster. She left, and you have to leave, too. The lobby is for guests only.”

Did she think I was paparazzi? Or a stalker? Had she seen my shoes? These weren’t made for chasing people.

I knew she was just following orders, and if she hadn’t thrown the word security at me, I might have let it go. But she had, hadn’t she?

“Book me a massage then, Mel. I get that a cup of coffee might be too much for your skill set, but since you work the reception, you should be able to handle a phone call.”

Mel straightened, nodded once, then turned and left. I dialed my mother.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hey, Mom. What are you doing for dinner tonight?”

It was still afternoon, but I’d been eating early dinners for as long as I could remember, a habit my mother drilled into me as a girl to keep me as skinny as possible, all for her aspirations of my hypothetical ballet career. I’d ditched ballet sixteen years ago, but the early dinners and relentless weight-watching had stuck ingrained in my psyche.

“Mike and I are going out. Why?”

“Can I join?”

“Join?” Her tone held a hint of surprise.

“Yes. I flew in today. Work stuff. I’ll explain when I see you.”

“I’ll text you the address. We’ll meet there at six. You’re still doing the early dinners, right?”

Not that I’d expected her to show a human emotion, but a simple ‘I’m glad I’ll get to see you’ would have been nice.

“Send me the address,” I said, ignoring her question about my eating habits. “I’ll see you there.”

I was running my hand over the tapestry of the armchair, wondering where I could get one of these, when I noticed a tall, muscular man approaching, dressed head to toe in black with a serious expression on his face. Hopefully, he was charming and funny, because a face and a body like that would be a waste if he didn’t know how to talk to a woman.

Against my better judgment, I compared him to Parker. I liked Parker better - the square jaw, the less bulky frame, and that broodingalpha male thing that always attracted women to highly dysfunctional men.

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