Page 2 of Save Me
“You son of a bitch.” Henry sighs heavily. “You went against my orders and fucked her anyway.”
I school my expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?—”
“Don’t bother denying it. You’re as predictable as that Florida sun.” He points at the glowing ball in the sky.
I briefly wonder what my tell was. Whatever. I’m not going to embarrass myself by continuing to deny it. The hotel’s main doors are coming up ahead, and Belinda is loitering, waiting for her supreme commander. So I lift my foot off the pedal and bring us to a halt. It’s best wefinish this conversation here. “What I do on my own time is my business.”
“I own you.” Henry snorts derisively. “I gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you couldn’t even keep your dick in your pants long enough to reach opening day.”
I don’t miss the past tense in that sentence. Is this him firing me? If I’m going down, I might as well do it swinging. “Funny, didn’t your father say the same thing to you?” Abbi once let slip that William Wolf had all but threatened to take the hotel from Henry if he couldn’t stop sleeping with his assistants. Of course, enter Abbi stage left, and what Daddi-O wanted didn’t matter.
Henry’s gaze narrows. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Okay, I’ll admit, bringing up his late father was a douche move. “Look, it’s not a big deal?—”
“The hell it isn’t! You are senior management now, Ronan. What you do reflects on this company and on me,” he barks.
And Henry is all about image. Again, I’ll bet he had this exact same conversation with his father when he was fucking around, but I bite my tongue this time. He hasn’t officially fired me yet.
“When did it happen?” he demands. “Before or after she agreed to take the signs down?”
“Why the hell would that matter?” I’m not giving Henry or anyone else details about my time with Sloane.
“Because I need to know if I’m going to have a PR mess on my hands because of this.”
“Why would you …” My words drift as I clue in. Does he think I used sex as a negotiating tactic? That I seduced Sloane into getting what I want out of her? Pieces of shit like Cody do that.
Idon’t fucking do that.
My teeth grind as I fight the urge to defend myself. Admitting that what happened with Sloane was way more than just an opportunity to get laid, that I’m developing feelings for her, is not what Henry wants to hear. “Any PR mess you have won’t be because of me. Bulldozing half of Mermaid Beach will earn you that.”
“That’s business. I can deal with that. What I can’t have are sexual harassment headlines tied to this hotel’s name.”
“Jesus, are you kidding me right now? That’s not how it happened! It wasn’t anything like that,” I snarl, my typical even keel vanishing with a rare flare of temper. “That’s not me, and you fucking know it!” I’ve never laid so much as a finger on a woman without her being crystal clear about wanting it. “Honestly, what kind of situations have you gotten yourself into that your brain thinks this way?”
“That’s not the point!”
Pieces are beginning to click together. Is this what Belinda was hinting at that day she warned me off the “unhinged neighbor?” Because this can’t just be unhealthy paranoia on their parts.
I doubt many people have the balls to raise their voice to Henry.
I brace myself for a yelling match that I will gladly participate in, but instead, Henry’s answer comes in a calm and collected tone. “Sometimes, when people arehurt or angry or embarrassed, they lash out in unexpected ways,” he answers vaguely, and then his brawny chest sinks with his exhale. “You know, what? It’s done. Those stupid signs are down. That’s all that matters.”
I falter at the unexpected and quick course correct.
“She is a complication for me, and I don’t need complications. Find someone else to entertain yourself with. Go to the beach, go to the bar, go to the fucking Piggly Wiggly, I don’t give a shit where you pick them up, as long as I don’t hear another word about Sloane Parker that involves you ever again. And we can pretend like you didn’t take a piss all over my wishes. Deal?”
Wishes? More like demands. And who does he think he is? Vito Corleone?
But it doesn’t sound like I’m looking for a new job yet. “Sure thing, boss.” Whatever I need to say to end this conversation.
The electric golf cart whirs as I set it in motion again.
We’re almost at the front door when Henry adds, “And just in case you’re tempted, let me remind you that you signed a confidentiality agreement when you accepted this position, which means you better keep your mouth shut about this revitalization project, or I will gladly bankrupt you.”
“I can always count on you for a threat.” As if I want to be the bearer of that news.
Belinda meets us at the hotel’s front doors with a cautious expression. “Enjoyable tour?” She couldn’t have overheard our conversation, but I’ll bet our body language told a convincing story of two men inches away from choking each other out.
