by Jenna Payne
With that, Petra turned on a heel and walked off. Welcome to Arrington Woodlands, thought Skye. What a place.
*****
Adjusting her blouse to look presentable, Skye turned the golden handle that opened the door to the conference room.
Inside, the two attorneys from the lobby, Margaret and Peter were huddled with Cace Arrington around a small television set. There was a form of grainy CCTV playing on the screen.
On the other side of the conference room, Petra was barking orders at staff members as they laid out refreshments. Where Skye came from, refreshments meant donuts and potato chips. Here, refreshments meant gastronomical snacks served on little spoons, and brightly-colored macarons.
The food, however, was not what caught Skye’s attention. What caught her attention was Cace Arrington. When she’d heard her new boss was a leisure tycoon, she’d automatically assumed he’d be a round-bellied, middle-aged man. He was not.
In his late thirties, Cace was a good-looking man, with piercing green eyes and a wave of short brown hair, combed back. He had a strong jaw covered in stubble and there was, Skye noticed, a little dimple in his chin.
He looked up when Skye entered; a look of curiosity on his face. Skye drew up a chair on the opposite side of Cace, and opened her notebook. She was already feeling nervous about taking down the notes correctly, and she didn’t need to be distracted.
Cace’s attorneys were drawing his attention to three masked figures on the screen. The footage, captured at night, appeared to be from a security camera. The three masked figures were seen lighting something before throwing it across a field in the direction of a small house.
“Now obviously your litigation with the owner of that house has been well-publicized,” Margaret began. “But that alone would never link someone of your stature with this kind of criminal activity.”
“The problem arises with the fact that police did cell-site analysis of the area,” Peter chimed in. “And what they found was data from an office-mobile belonging to the Arrington Woodland estate.”
Skye noticed how Petra would annoyingly chip in with a breathy ‘uh huh’ every time the attorneys used legal terminology—a gesture intended to demonstrate how well she was following the conversation.
“But every member of staff in the resort has access to that mobile,” Cace explained, responding to his attorneys’ points.
“Yes. But the obvious implication is that this activity is being carried out under your orders. And the media is running with that story,” cautioned Margaret. “Internet rumors and conspiracy theories abound. Some are even saying you’re ‘man number three’ on the CCTV. So we need to act quickly to silence these stories.”
Skye studied the CCTV. It was clear why the internet rumor-mongers couldn’t say the other two men were Cace; the shadowy figures were too stocky. But the third figure depicted on the CCTV was very similar to Cace; tall and slim with a confident gait.
Was her new boss really a law-breaking felon? Skye wondered to herself.
“The longer these stories remain out there, unchallenged, the more damage they’re doing to you, and the more pressure they’re placing on the board of directors,” Peter continued.
As the footage played over and over again on a loop, Skye found herself being almost hypnotized by it. Her attention was suddenly called back into sharp focus when Petra shouted from across the room, “Excuse me, Miss Wilder. Are you writing all this down as required?”
Skye jumped, and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She could feel Cace’s eyes on hers, and felt her cheeks start to blush.
“Yes. I…er…I just noticed something that might be relevant,” Skye stammered in her usual husky voice.
This prompted Petra to march angrily across the room toward Skye. “I’m sorry? Which law school did you attend which gives you the right to tell two of the finest lawyers in the country what is relevant?”
“No. It’s just the CCTV,” started Skye. She turned to Cace, “Do you have any tattoos?”
At the forwardness of this question, Petra nearly barfed on the spot. Cace, however, turned curiously to Skye and shook his head.
“Cace…I mean, Mr. Arrington…is meant to be ‘man number three’ on the footage,” Skye continued. “But at 4:32 on the video, there is a moment where ‘man number three’s’ hand is on show, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a small black tattoo near his wrist.”
As the attorneys excitedly forwarded the footage to the relevant spot, Cace broke out into a wide smile. Skye too felt herself smiling on the inside, not that she’d scored one against Petra but that she’d been right about the CCTV. She glanced over at Cace, and the two of them studied each other; curious, like two species discovering each other for the first time.
Petra stood close by, seething.
At the conclusion of the conference, the mood of the room had changed dramatically. Discussions of ‘damage control’ had moved on to confident proclamations about how the Arrington company would vigorously fight back against the defamatory stories.
Petra continued her charm offensive on Margaret and Peter, and Skye wondered how it was humanly possible for someone to mention they’d graduated from Dartmouth College as much as Petra did.
As everyone in the room gathered up their things, exchanging pleasantries and saying their goodbyes, Cace leaned over to Skye.
“You’re the new secretary, right?”
Skye smiled back. “Yes, I’m Skye Wilder. Nice to meet you.”
Before they could exchange any more words, Petra stepped in between them. “Mr. Arrington, I’m so sorry to interrupt. But I must remind you of your video-conference with one of the tournament organizers.”
And with that, Mr. Arrington was ushered away. Skye stood back in the conference room, clutching her notebook. It had been a day full of revelations and surprises, she thought.
*****
That evening, there was a thunderstorm, and rain poured ferociously against the window of what would be Skye’s room for the next three weeks. She had been pleasantly surprised with the hotel room assigned to her for the duration of her stay. It was spacious with an ensuite bathroom, and a balcony overlooking one of the green golf-courses.
As she tossed and turned trying to get used to the silky sheets of the unfamiliar bed, she found her mind turning to her new boss. He was definitely not what she had expected. What had he thought of her? Had he been impressed with her in the conference room? She wondered.
She mentally scolded herself for caring what he thought. Why did she care what this man thought about her? She hardly knew him.
Then her mind wandered on to other thoughts. Cace was a man who had made millions if not billions through his business-savvy. Why would he be impressed with her? A twenty-something year-old, who was struggling to meet her day-to-day bills and had only recently turned from exotic dancing to do so.
She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Her past relationships with men had been rather like her past careers: transient, unpredictable and non-committal. She’d dated some relatively decent men but they’d all exhibited instability: a desire to constantly uproot and travel, an over-interest in fickle hobbies such as gambling, an inability to hold down a job…sometimes all three. Skye craved some form of stability, having been raised in a household devoid of any.
Finding her thoughts drifting back to the past, she decided to get out of bed and grab a drink from the hotel bar.
It must have been about one in the morning. As the glass elevator descended, Skye looked down at the quiet bar, seeing only two or three people who had clearly had the same idea as her.
She pulled up a seat in the bar area, and stared out into the hotel lobby. She contemplated what she’d do once this job post came to an end. Would she ever create some stability for herself? Or was this it, destined to wander from job to job, being pulled in any direction that life took her?
Suddenly, appearing through the revolving door of the lobby, Skye could see Cace. He wa
s the last person she’d expected to see at this time. And he was with someone. She blinked her eyes, drawing the two figures into focus. He was with a female. A blonde female. But it wasn’t Petra. This woman was a few years younger than Petra. She was beautiful like a glamour model. A glamour model who could afford designer handbags, Skye noticed.
Was that his wife? Or his girlfriend? Maybe just a friend.
Skye watched on. They appeared to be enjoying each other’s conversation. And then, without any prompting from the female, Cace leaned in, and gave her a long, passionate kiss. When he kissed, he closed his eyes, as though he was overwhelmed with the sensation.
Definitely not a friend, thought Skye. She suddenly felt uncomfortable watching like this, and worried that Cace and his female companion might decide to have a drink at the bar. She didn’t want Cace to see her like this, alone in a bar with no make-up on. She laid down some cash to cover the cost of the drink, and made her way around the side of the bar toward the elevator. She would have to walk toward the lobby to get there, but if she made a quick left at the right moment, Cace and his female companion wouldn’t notice her.
It didn’t work. Although Skye kept her head down the whole time, when the doors of the elevator beeped to signal they were closing, Cace momentarily looked up from kissing the female, and stared directly into the elevator. Skye’s eyes met with his. And then the doors of the elevators shut.
*****
When Cace Arrington was required to stay at the resort for business, he took up residence in the one of the master suites of the hotel. Skye had read about them in the hotel brochure: 600 square feet of pure luxury–with a walk-in closet and whirl-pool bath among some of the features they had to offer.
From her less palatial room, Skye dialed through to her boss’ suite, trying to get a response. Earlier in the morning, Petra had given her a timetable of all Cace’s appointments for the week–and made it clear that any errors in scheduling would fall squarely on Skye’s shoulders. In other words, if her boss failed to get up for an important 11am meeting with a sponsor, it would be her fault, Skye now started to realize. She checked the time and saw it was just after 10:30am.
Not knowing what else to do and unable to reach Petra, Skye took the elevator up to the fourth floor of the hotel building. Her ‘staff’ key-pass gave her access to the floor, and she found the door to Cace’s suite at the end of a long corridor.
She paused for a moment, not sure if waking up the boss was ever a good decision. What if the blonde female from last night was still on the other side of the door, she wondered. She checked the time and saw that it was nearly 10:40am. The schedule had stated in big, bold letters that the meeting was important. Tentatively, Skye knocked on the door to the suite.
“Hello. Mr. Arrington?” she called from the door. “It’s Skye. The new secretary. You have a meeting at 11am.”
Men always found Skye’s husky voice sexy, but she doubted that would make the boss any more agreeable to being woken up from a deep sleep. There was no response.
Under the pressure of time, Skye realized she had no other choice but to use her staff pass to enter the room. She had been told this was permitted in two circumstances: when expressly instructed to do so, and in emergencies. Did this count as an emergency? Skye wondered.
Hesitantly, Skye stepped into the master suite, announcing her presence. “Hello?” she called out. She could make out the faint smell of expensive bath products.
Skye found Cace, sleeping in the king-size bed. There was no blonde female. A thin white bed sheet covered his lower half, leaving his bare chest exposed. He had a strong, muscular physique with a touch of chest hair. He looked serene as he slept.
Not wanting to get too close, Skye called out from the entrance of the bedroom. “Mr. Arrington! You have a meeting…” There was no response. She went over to Cace, and nudged his shoulder, trying to rouse him. He didn’t stir. She checked the time again. It was now 10:46am. Fast running out of options, Skye grabbed a cup of water on the bedside cabinet, and threw the water at Cace. He roused immediately, jumping up, and blinking his eyes.
“Skye?” he said, his mind slowly waking up.
“I’m so sorry!” said Skye. “I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last hour. You have a meeting in less than fifteen minutes with one of the tournament sponsors.”
“Oh shit!” said Cace, jumping out of the bed, the bed sheet falling away, leaving him completely naked. He cringed at his error, and quickly grabbed the sheet covering himself back up.
“I’m so sorry!” he said.
“Worry less about my modesty! And get yourself in the shower quick!” smiled Skye, quickly averting her gaze and acting as though she wasn’t bothered. She hid her emotions well though because deep down, she was bothered; hot and bothered of the pleasant variety. So Mr. Arrington was endowed in other areas of his life, thought Skye, hating herself for letting her mind go there.
Skye was surprised by how comfortable she was starting to feel around Cace, and how the formalities seemed to fall away. As Cace ran into the bathroom and jumped under the walk-in shower, the door still ajar, he asked Skye to grab some paperwork from his writing desk to bring to the meeting.
“You do know–if you miss this meeting, your wing-woman, Petra will have my head on the chopping block!” Skye shouted from the writing desk. She heard Cace laughing under the roar of the hydro-jet shower.
“She’s like that with everyone.”
As Cace turned off the shower, he turned around to see Skye holding out a towel for him.
“Mind your eyes,” he said with a wide smile and a glint in his green eyes.
“I’ve seen it. And there are bigger issues at hand. Your 11 o’clock meeting,” replied Skye, shocked and rather proud at her own cheekiness. Cace returned the smile.
*****
The meeting with the sponsor would have probably ranked as the most boring meeting Skye had ever attended, had it not been for the looks Cace had given her throughout. Every so often, she would feel his eyes on her, and when she met his gaze, a faint smile broke out across his face.
She was annoyed at herself for feeling any kind of gratification over this. She had seen the way he’d been all over that female the night before. Even if these looks weren’t just figments of her imagination, Cace’s interest in her would be only passing…she’d be just another plaything, another conquest.
Confirmation that the looks hadn’t solely been a figment of Skye’s imagination, came when Petra–who turned up toward the end of the meeting–declared that Skye was needed for admin duties in the basement office. Away from Cace.
Cace had looked disappointed. But Skye was grateful for the chance to clear her head. To stop her mind running away with thoughts she was struggling to make sense of.
***
The basement office of Arrington Woodlands seemed to be where the hotel stored every piece of paper it was required to do so by law. There were records on everything from kitchen appliances to bed sheets. Surrounded by stacks upon stacks of paper, threatening to tumble at any moment, Skye was grateful for the assistance of other staff members to help her sort through them. One of these staff members, Alejandro, had been transferred from another Arrington resort, and even he seemed to be struggling to adjust to Petra’s authoritarian style of management.
“They’re big on rules at this place,” Alejandro had commented, weary as to whether he could trust Skye.
There may be many resorts but there’s only one Petra, thought Skye.
“Do you know anything about golf?” Alejandro asked, as they continued sorting through a mound of paperwork.
“Not the first thing!” she’d replied. They’d laughed at the irony.
About the same age as Skye, Alejandro may not have had the dashing good-looks of Cace, but he was certainly a welcome companion in what could be a very unwelcoming place.
Skye had been tasked with sorting through the paper schedules for all staff-members at the resor
t, and then relaying that information to Alejandro, who would input it onto the office computer. At one point, mid-morning, Alejandro forgot to save the spreadsheet he was working on, and Petra had come charging down to the basement, demanding an explanation. As he stammered nervously, struggling to get an excuse out, Skye felt compelled to step in and blame herself for pulling out the power-plug by mistake. Petra ‘huffed and puffed’ but ultimately retreated.
Afterwards, Alejandro turned to Skye: “Thanks!”
“We’ve gotta look after each other around here!”
During her lunch break, Skye met Margo in the hotel bar. Margo had stopped by the resort for business purposes.
“How you finding the place?” Margo asked in her usual no-nonsense tone.
“I’m settling in better than expected. Better than I expected, at least” offered Skye.
“The thing you’ve gotta realize with these places…” began Margo, “is these rich people all talk a good game. But in the end, it’s good, old-fashioned hard-work that gets the work done.”
Skye nodded.
“Have you met the boss yet?”
“Oh, who? Cace?” asked Skye, trying to sound nonchalant.
Yes, I’ve met him, Skye thought. He’s been in and out of my mind constantly for the last few hours.
“Yes, I’ve met him. He seems…lovely.”
Margo detected something on Skye’s face. By now, she knew Skye almost as well as a mother knows their own daughter.
“Don’t get sucked in,” Margo warned. “Cace Arrington is many things but lovely isn’t one of them. He’s being investigated for some pretty unscrupulous business practices, don’t forget.”
Skye would have challenged Margo on that point, but thought wiser of it.