Page 10 of Strictly Business

I’ve done this a thousand times before. I’ve made presentations, pitched deals, closed contracts. There’s no reason for me to be nervous. Not now. Not with this.

The air is thick with the scent of fresh leather and expensive cologne. Across from me, Robert Jensen, the CEO of Jenkins International, taps his pen against the polished mahogany table. His eyes flick from me to the other three men sitting around the table. David Owens, head of acquisitions; Claire Rivers, the CFO who could probably crush me with a single glance; and Simon Reynolds, the consultant who thinks he knows everything. He’s the youngest in the room by a solid twenty years, the only one even remotely close to my age.

But he blends right in with the rest of them—tailored suit, smug expression—all of them holding my future in their hands.

No fucking pressure.

“Mr. Blackwood,” Robert begins, tapping his pen against my desk. “We’ve been looking over the Blackwood brand and its success in the U.S. and we’re confident expanding internationally is the next logical step.”

I nod, my gaze flicking to the pen he keeps tapping on the table.

I wish he’d cut that the fuck out.

I’ve heard this pitch a hundred times. Europe, Asia, South America—hell, we’ve been talking about it for months. This is what my father wanted for as long as I can remember. A global brand. He had the vision, the drive, the passion to take this empire global. But he passed before he could accomplish it. And now it’s my responsibility. To honor him. To finish his unfinished business.

It’s everything I’ve worked for. And yet, despite all that, it feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on my chest, making it harder to breathe.

Robert clears his throat, leaning forward as the pen tap-tap-taps against the table, then stops. “But there’s something holding us back.”

I sit up straighter, instinctively gripping the edge of the table. The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air, but it does nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me. Holding them back? What the hell is he talking about?

“And that’s your image,” Robert continues, the goddamn pen tapping again like he’s trying to drive me insane.

My image?

I’ve given everything to this company. Every waking moment, every late night, every holiday. I’ve sacrificed it all to keep the Blackwood name intact. To make sure my father’s legacy doesn’tget trampled by some shiny new competitor. I’ve fought for this. I’ve bled for this.

“I’m sorry?” I ask, my voice strained, unsure if I’m even hearing them right. “What about my image?”

For a brief moment, my mind flashes to my brother. Though we don’t exactly look alike, his name’s been dragged through the mud more than once. And if this has anything to do with him…

My jaw tightens, the muscles in my neck stiffening.

Robert clears his throat. “The thing is… Blackwood Hotels is synonymous with luxury, exclusivity, and… family values.” He looks around the room for a moment, the tension thick in the air. “We’ve done our research, and there’s been a bit of a discrepancy in your personal life. The tabloids have had a field day with your… romantic history.”

A cold chill runs down my spine. I can feel my heart rate spike, my pulse thudding in my ears. Are you fucking kidding me?

Since my dad passed, the world has been watching me and the Blackwood family, waiting for us to fail. We were in freefall, struggling to keep the company afloat after months of ignoring the financials. My brother, stumbling through life, drowning in alcohol, unable to cope with my being CEO. And I… I failed. I watched the company slip through my fingers.

So, I did what I knew best. I made headlines. I staged some club outings, let myself be seen with women, whatever it took to get people talking again, to bring the attention back. It worked, for a while. Bookings picked up. Investors were interested again. But now… now it’s all coming back to bite me in the ass.

David shifts in his seat, clearing his throat. “Look, Nicholas, we know a man like you is entitled to live how he chooses,” he continues, his voice measured but serious. “But for Blackwood Hotels to succeed internationally, we need you to represent something more… something stable. A family man. Someone we can rely on.”

Family. The word sounds foreign to me. I’ve been running on fumes for so long, entirely focused on saving this company, doing whatever it takes to keep it afloat, that the thought of stability—of settling down—slipped too far into the background, out of my reach. They want someone committed, someone married or engaged. And I’m nowhere near that.

“With all due respect,” I say, my voice tight with frustration, “I think I’ve shown my capabilities to run this business.”

Robert’s gaze softens for just a moment before he leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his face. “You have,” he adds, but there’s a hesitation there I can’t ignore. “But most of the attention surrounding Blackwood Hotels has come from your personal life. Your romantic escapades. That’s the narrative the media’s picked up on. And while it may have worked to generate buzz, it’s also been a distraction.”

Fuck. He’s right.

I’ve let my personal life spill out into the public eye, thinking it would help the business. It worked, for a time. But now, it’s only serving to undermine me.

Before I can respond, Claire speaks up, clearing her throat. “We all agree you’ve kept the Blackwood name relevant. But what we need is someone who can take it from gossip columns to the Forbes list.”

The rest of the board nod, their faces neutral, calculating.

“And if you can’t do that…” Robert lets the sentence hang, his words heavy with implication.

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