10 Days in Paradise (Tropical Nights)

by Haymore, J.

  10 Days in Paradise

  A Tropical Nights Story

  J. Haymore

  10 Days in Paradise

  Copyright 2016 J. Haymore

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author.

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  Dedication

  For Lawrence, as always.

  Prologue

  Celeste

  I glanced at the clock on the corner of my computer screen. It was already almost ten, and I had another two hours of work, at least.

  It was no big deal being in the office so late—it wasn’t like I had anything better to do. What really mattered was that the managers admired my dedication, gave me perfect evaluations, and I produced three times the output of any other associate at Lowenstein, Barrett, and Galindo.

  I could handle being here until midnight every night of the year if that was what it took. By my calculations, if I continued kicking butt and working hard, I’d climb the corporate ladder at record-breaking speed and make partner in eight years, at the still-young age of twenty-nine. My goal was to be the youngest person ever to make partner at LBG.

  Stifling a yawn, I flipped through the documents on my desk, clicked open a spreadsheet, and focused on the numbers on the screen.

  A soft, masculine “ahem” sounded behind me. My hand froze, suspended over the keyboard. Not Mike. Please don’t let it be Mike.

  My worst mistake in the five months since I’d been in the professional world had been to date one of my coworkers. Mike was an associate who was two years ahead of me. Our similar career goals had given us a lot to talk about at first. But it hadn’t taken long before I realized that being with Mike was a bad—very, very bad—idea, and that it had to end.

  Pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I swiveled in my seat…and let out a huge sigh of relief.

  It wasn’t Mike. Thomas Manning, the majority owner of Viscount Enterprises and one of our most important clients, stood at the opening to my cubicle. In his fifties, Manning was the kind of man who drove expensive sports cars and attended social events with Barbie-doll blondes half his age draped over each arm.

  Tonight he was dressed in black trousers and a striped dress shirt. His tie was loose around his neck. I’d never seen him look so casual, but then again, it was pretty late.

  Manning inclined his head in greeting. “Can you meet with me in the conference room, Celeste? I have the numbers from our recent acquisition of Sunshower Corp.”

  “Oh. Ah…sure.” It was odd, but not unheard of, to have a client in the office at this hour. And we’d been waiting for the info on Sunshower. I quickly gathered the Viscount file and followed him through the maze of cubicles and down the hall to the corner conference room.

  He ushered me in, closing the door behind us. I blinked at what I saw on the long conference table. No laptops or document folders lay on its surface. Instead, a bottle of Dom Perignon sat on the table, along with two crystal flutes.

  My heart began to pound as I turned to look at him, clutching the file tightly against my chest. “Uh…Mr. Manning?”

  He grinned as he sauntered to the table, then gestured toward the champagne flutes. “Thought I’d bring you a little treat. To celebrate your fantastic job in helping with the restructuring of Viscount Enterprises.”

  The entire team had done a great job—it hadn’t been just me, though I’d been especially proud since it was my first major project and my manager, Miranda, had singled me out for playing a key role. And while the final results were definitely something to celebrate, Manning wasn’t the person to celebrate with. Not at this hour, alone with him, in the corner conference room.

  This wasn’t good.

  With a debonair flair, he ripped the foil from the neck of the champagne bottle.

  My mind scrambled. How many other people were still in the office? I hadn’t seen a soul in at least an hour. But surely Caleb or one of the other partners was still here… My heart pounded against my ribs as I inched backward toward the door.

  “Wow…um, thanks for the offer, Mr. Manning. It’s…er…really, really thoughtful of you. I appreciate it. But I’m sorry—I’m still working.” I forced a smile. “Gotta have a clear head. And all.”

  The champagne cork blew out with a pop.

  “Nonsense, beautiful.” With a flourish, he poured champagne into the flutes. “One glass won’t impair you. C’mon.” He glided toward me, pried the folder from my death grip, and pressed a glass into my hand. Then he and raised his glass. “Here’s to you, sweet thing.”

  A smile curved his lips, his salon tan highlighting the deep crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes. My gaze lowered to the glass I held. Little bubbles erupted on the surface of the pale gold liquid.

  “Maybe we should go somewhere after the champagne.” His voice grew husky. “You’re looking tense. My place?”

  Swallowing hard, I sidestepped around him to set the glass firmly on the table. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Mr. Man—”

  I turned toward the door, but he had moved behind me, trapping me between himself and the table. He set his glass down and reached out with both arms, caging me.

  He stared down at me for a fraction of a second, and just as my mouth opened to demand he let me go, he yanked me into his arms. His lips collided with mine, his tongue driving my mouth wider. Wet and sloppy, he tasted of oysters and hard liquor. His tongue smashed against my teeth, and he moaned loudly. One of his hands found my breast and squeezed it, twisting the nipple between his fingers.

  Oh God. Oh God. Pain shot through my breast. I didn’t know what to…how to stop… No!

  The next instant, my body came alive. I flattened my palms on his shirt and shoved him away. Then I took a big step forward, and, throwing my whole body into it, slapped him across the face. Hard.

  His face whipped to the side. The door squeaked open behind me.

  Manning gaped, looking as shocked as I felt. The shape of my fingers blazed bright pink on his cheek. My palm stung from the impact.

  Scrubbing the back of my hand across my mouth, I turned to the door. Caleb Loemann, a partner at the firm, my boss’s boss, stood in the doorway, his lips tight, his face drawn and pale.

  My skin burned from my chest to the tips of my ears. My breast throbbed. Fisting my hands at my sides, I glanced at Manning. He stared back, embarrassed masculine anger quickly replacing the cloudy look of shock in his eyes.

  “How dare you,” he growled, his upper lip curling.<
br />
  I clenched my teeth. I didn’t do anger, or strong emotion in general. Being completely even-keeled was what got me through most challenging situations in life. But an unfamiliar sensation rose in my chest, boiling hot. Was it anger? I wasn’t sure. I pressed my lips together hard, because speaking would only make this situation worse than it already was.

  Hands on hips, Manning sneered, suddenly seeming to look down his nose at me, though he wasn’t much taller. “Really? Coming on to me like a low-class slut? If you think you can try to sleep your way to the top with me, young lady, you will be sorely disappointed.” He turned to Caleb. “You really have to do something about your employees, Loemann. This is…this is the lowest form of unprofessional behavior. Completely unacceptable. Rest assured, we will be pulling our accounts with Lowenstein, Barrett, and Galindo. You’ll hear from our lawyers tomorrow. Good God. I think I’m going to be ill.”

  He stalked out of the room, making ridiculous gagging noises as he pushed past Caleb. The door slammed shut behind him.

  Both Caleb and I stared at the closed door for a long, painful moment. I finally gathered the nerve to speak. My voice sounded scratchy and shaken—definitely not the usual businesslike tone I used in the office. “Ah, Caleb”—I paused to clear my throat—“that…um…wasn’t what it—”

  Raising his hand to stop me from saying any more, Caleb walked deeper into the room and sank into one of the chairs surrounding the conference table. He ran his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Damn it. What a mess.” He waved his hand at the chair beside his. “Sit down, Celeste.”

  I pulled out the chair and sat, watching Caleb’s brow furrow as I straightened my spine and clasped my hands together on the conference table, trying to get my heart to stop beating like a frantic tribal drum.

  After another completely uncomfortable silence, Caleb began, “You were our number-one hire this year, and you’re showing a great deal of promise…” He paused, and I waited for the but.

  “…but unfortunately, we can’t afford to lose the Viscount Enterprises account.”

  “I didn’t— I wasn’t— That wasn’t—” I was stuttering. This never happened to me, but my job was in peril. My dream.

  “I know, I know,” Caleb said. “He came on to you. He’s done it in the past with other female associates. I don’t blame you for what happened.” He sighed. “Do you want to press charges?”

  I blinked. Was that what one was supposed to do in a situation like this? Press charges? “I…don’t think so.” Turning this into a public scandal wouldn’t be good for LBG.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “I was…everything was okay… Nothing really happened.” I wrapped my arms over my chest, but the action made the nipple Manning had mauled hurt. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if the man got too close to me again. The thought of having to work with him—even see him again—made my skin crawl.

  Caleb gave me a pained look. “You’re damn young,” he muttered. Then, a little louder, “Listen, you need to understand the male ego. Manning’s got a huge one, and it’s been damaged. We’re going to need to wine and dine him for a couple of weeks to rebuild it, to keep him happy, and to ensure we remain at the top of his payroll. I think…” He frowned, rubbed the bridge of his nose, then nodded. “Yes, that’s it. You just need to leave for a while. Take a vacation. Go to Hawaii or something.”

  “Hawaii? But I’ve only been here for five months.” I hadn’t even accrued any vacation days yet.

  “Celeste, I’ve worked with Manning for fifteen years. I know the man, and the truth is, you need to be out of the picture while I work on him. You need to go away for a while.”

  “Are…” I swallowed hard and continued, pressing the words out against the panic squeezing my throat, “You’re not firing me, are you?”

  “No.” His voice was firm. “Of course not. I don’t want you to leave because of this. As I said, you’ve shown a lot of promise since you came to us. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You’re ambitious, you’re precise, you’re intelligent, and you can get done in one day what takes most new associates a week. Everyone here loves you, and our clients do too. I know this wasn’t your fault, but we cannot lose the Viscount account. We can’t.”

  “A…vacation?”

  “Yes. Go somewhere nice.”

  Nice? I shook my head, uncomprehending. “But…what about the projects I’m working on? We’re finishing up on Aeroque and Goderich. I’m supposed to go with the team to Mexico City for—”

  “The rest of the team is going to have to make do with less of your perfection for a while.” Caleb leaned back in the chair and folded his arms over his crisply starched white shirt. The conference room lighting glinted across the silver streaks in his hair.

  I gripped the arms of the chair. This couldn’t be happening. A partner at LBG was trying to get rid of me, trying to tell me I wasn’t needed…for a while. What would I do? Where would I go? He’d said Hawaii, but that seemed so far away from my work. From my life.

  I rubbed my hand furiously over my violated mouth. I needed a shower.

  Caleb lowered his voice. “It’ll be all right, I promise. Take a couple of weeks, Celeste. By the time you return, everything will be back to normal.”

  I was still on the partner track—he was essentially telling me that. I could handle this calmly. Some unsettling emotions had begun to bubble in my chest, but they were containable. It wouldn’t be professional to show a partner my distress.

  Caleb seemed to notice anyway. “Hey,” he said gently, and there was real kindness in his tone. “None of this is your fault. I told security downstairs to let Manning in. He called and said he wanted you to look over some final documents, that you’d scheduled a meeting with him. I had no idea how drunk he was, or that he’d brought champagne.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. To Manning, I wasn’t a kickass associate who intended to make partner before the age of thirty. To Manning, I was merely something young and pretty to look at, a potential fun conquest and now an embarrassment.

  I was lucky I wasn’t being fired. Some employers would take the billionaire client’s word over the truth any day. Caleb was a good guy.

  I raised my head and looked him in the eye. “Thanks. I’ll go.”

  “Good.” He rose. “Pack your desk up tonight. Your vacation starts tomorrow.”

  “All right. I’ll be back in the office and ready to go in a couple of weeks.”

  He smiled. “Good. I’d expect nothing less from you, Celeste.”

  Day One

  Celeste

  Caleb had said I should go to Hawaii, so it had seemed the logical place to go. After all, I couldn’t stay in my apartment and go crazy knowing I was only ten minutes from the office but banned from going in. At home that night, I’d opened up my laptop to find a flight and a place to stay in Hawaii. Most of the flights and all the big hotels were sold out, but there was a flight with a seat from L.A. to Hilo, and a little house on the beach there available for rent for a couple of weeks. Perfect. I’d paid using my credit card, not even caring that this would mean a huge dip into my savings.

  Now I peered through a window cloudy with rain. The windshield wipers worked furiously, but the rain poured in heavy sheets, so hard it ricocheted off the pavement.

  After carefully negotiating past the long row of surf-mobiles parked haphazardly along the narrow street, I found a spot that, under extreme conditions, might be defined as a parking space. With windshield wipers on maximum speed, I nudged the rented convertible into a strip of mud at the cliff’s edge. Eyeing the crumbling drop-off suspiciously, I parked half the car in the parking space and left the rest hanging out into the street.

  A metal sign dangled from a tree branch overhead, dripping fat drops of water on the windshield to mingle with the rain. From the clues lent by the least-rusty letters, I deduced that the sign read, Resident Parking Only.

  Well, that was me. At least for the next ten days
.

  I cut the engine, then gripped the steering wheel and studied the blurry world outside the car. Patches of blue tin peeked out from the shimmering greenery halfway down the cliff, probably the roof of the rental house. It was supposed to be a vacation house, but I knew what it really was. My prison. A place to serve out the sentence Caleb had ordered.

  It was a beautiful prison, though. At least, it had appeared to be beautiful from the pictures I’d seen online. They’d shown that below the house, the cliff dropped to a black sand beach, bordered on one side by a wide river and on the other by a rounded point of lava. From my vantage point at the top of the cliff, I could see the ocean—a dark, stormy blue, dotted with surfers seemingly oblivious to the downpour.

  Almost magically, the rain abruptly stopped, and the sun cracked through the overcast sky, glinting off the dripping vegetation. This was probably just a temporary reprieve—a glance in the rearview mirror revealed a thick wall of rain headed in this direction. I’d better make a dash for it.

  Tucking the gate and alarm instructions into my pocket, I stepped out of the little blue car and groaned as the heels of my sandals sank into mud.

  No problem. I’d get inside, clean these off, and after a nice long nap, take the car back into town and find somewhere to buy shoes. If I could handle client accounts blowing up at work, a bit of mud wasn’t going to kill me. In any case, I would only be here for ten days. It could pour cats and dogs the whole time, because I fully intended to stay inside the house as much as possible, working, planning for the future, and counting the moments until I could get back on an airplane, fly home, and get back to my life.

  I unloaded my two rolling suitcases from the trunk and heaved them over to the asphalt path ending at the fence. Pulling the paper with the combination from my pocket, I knelt down to study the lockbox.

  It was a low-tech lock, ancient looking and rusty, and a spider had built its home on one side of the dial. Gritting my teeth, I picked up a twig and used it to push away the glistening spider web. Then I tried to rotate the dial to the first number, but it was corroded in place. I pinched my fingers and twisted hard. It didn’t budge.