Page 37 of Sweet Poison

Chapter

Twelve

TINSEL AND TEMPER TANTRUMS

Madden

“Ho, ho, ho. Fuck off.” – M

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

I sigh, feeling tired as I scroll through my phone with a scowl. More fake news flashes across the screen, twisting the story and painting me in an even worse light. Frustration starts to boil inside me. It’s all bullshit— the articles and the insincere messages popping up from faceless women from my past. They were always a blur in my head and a means to an end. Fucked up? Yes. Do I care? No. I never promised them anything and they wanted their two seconds of fame when they were hanging from my arm at every event or night out. They knew what they were getting into when they agreed to climb into my bed.

Their fake flattery and bullshit sympathy will get them nowhere now.

More text messages come in.

Perry: Hang in there, champ. It’s almost over. The media will move on if we don’t give them what they want. Rem is working on the first and only statement we will put out. She’ll be sending it to you soon to get the okay.

Remi: The media are parasites but they won’t keep us down, yeah? Here’s a statement that disproves your brother’s lies.

Lincoln: Hey, boss. You’re out of toilet paper. Can you call the reception and ask for more?

I ignore the first, intending to answer them later when I have the energy to deal with that shit.

I do answer the nuisance currently shitting in my bathroom.

Me: Are you shitting in my bathroom?

Lincoln: Why are you asking stupid questions, boss?

Me: You’re disgusting. Wipe your ass with your hands and get the fuck out.

Lincoln: I’ll use the white towels then.

Done with him and everything else, I pocket the phone.

Leaning against the railing, I watch as the sun rises high in the sky, casting a golden light over my hotel. I then reach for the mug of black coffee that’s hot enough to be enjoyable but cool enough to drink without wincing. I stare down at my coffee, watching the steam dance above the surface. The mug is plainwhite compared to the ones they used before with Santa, elves, and reindeer designs. My thoughts drift to how my staff had listened and stopped shoving Christmas shit down my throat in every meal and every corner of my suite.

I take another sip of coffee as I look out over the hotel, watching the early morning activities unfold. Guests swarm the area looking eager to start their day and get the most out of their time here.

My gaze drifts from the guests gathered at the buffet line to the pool and beach area below. And there it is—today’s theme:Candy Cane Madness.

A growl rumbles in my throat as I take in the sight. The three pools burst with red and white stripes, candy canes bobbing lazily in the water. It’s like the entire area has transformed into a giant red and white candy carnival. The beach isn’t any better. A massive candy cane-themed water slide snakes its way from a towering structure where lifeguards stand ready to hand out life vests and giant floaties to the guests lined up on the sand.

Everywhere I look, it’s an over-the-top holiday extravaganza.

I can’t help but snarl.

But then my gaze shifts back to the guests. Children’s faces light up as they rush to the slide, laughter ringing out as they zoom down, while their parents cheer them on and capture the moment with their cameras. Families lounge by the pool, their smiles wide and genuine as they splash among the floating candy canes.

Despite my personal aversion to the holiday, this festive bullshit seems to bring joy to others.

As much as I hate this shit, I have to admit that this kind of spectacle is part of why my hotels are so successful around the globe. My chain of hotels is known for creating an unforgettable experience, no matter how excruciatingly tedious it might be for me. It’s that commitment to excellence that draws people in andkeeps them coming back. The smiles on their faces right now as they enjoy the pool and the beach are a testament to that success.

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