Holding out my hand, I greet him. “Hi! I’m Charlotte LeFay. Thank you for choosing The Clara Sea for your meeting. Tracy tells me your clients are coming in from Brazil.” His handshake is properly firm without overdoing it in spite of the fact that my hand is about five times smaller than his.
“Good morning, Charlotte. Thaddeus Jackson, but please, call me Jackson.” He really does have an amazing voice, deep and smooth, befitting his size and presence. He must be six and a half feet tall, at least. “Yes, they will arrive Tuesday, and the meeting is set for the day after. Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice.”
“Absolutely. I think you will be very pleased with the Garden Room. It is our most popular for more intimate gatherings. Shall we go take a look?” I’m at ease with Jackson. He’s got great energy and an old-fashioned charm. A pleasant surprise, considering what I was expecting.
“Yes, of course. But, could you ask someone at the front desk to direct Mr. McAlistair to us as soon as he is finished? He had to take an important call outside and will be a few minutes.”
That was a totally reasonable request and nothing out of the ordinary. So why did I just get butterflies in my stomach?
On a slight pause, I acknowledge his request and ask Terrance to make sure Mr. McAlistair is directed to us since I can’t find Tracy anywhere, poor thing.
Making our way toward the conference room, Jackson offers compliments on the decor and elegant features of the resort. He is so articulate I’m tempted to ask him to be the voiceover in our next round of ads. Listening to his deep, almost baritone voice say, “The casual elegance of your lobby is reminiscent of the West Indies style, yet you have masterfully incorporated a modern flare that makes The Clara Sea a singular resort,” distracted me so much I almost forget where I’m going and miss the entrance to our destination.
Practically sliding to a stop, I rest my hand on his arm to keep us from colliding. “Here we are!” I announce with a laugh. “I’m sorry, but you honestly distracted me with your compliment. I hope you don’t mind, but I may have to write that down and use it in my next ad campaign.” Then with a wink and a double dose of charm, I add, “And I may be contacting you with an offer to moonlight as the new voice of The Clara Sea.”
Entering the conference room, his deep laugh echoes as he turns and says, “I may take you up on that, Ms. LeFay.”
He immediately walks over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking one of our many well-established tropical gardens. It’s what everyone does when they enter this room—head straight for the view. It’s impossible not to, it’s just that beautiful. “I must say, Charlotte, this is far better than I imagined. It’s extraordinary and will be perfect for Wednesday’s meeting.”
“That makes me very happy, Jackson. I’m so pleased you like it.” At that moment, I hear the steady tap of confident footsteps coming toward us from outside the door. It’s familiar. Then something inside my gut is suddenly uneasy as chills creep up my spine. I don’t have time to pinpoint why before the door swings open and my world falls apart.
Time is suddenly ticking by in slow motion. All I hear is the muffled sound of my pounding heartbeat inside my ears as my vision locks with the same turquoise eyes that belong to the man that almost ruined me not even twenty-four hours ago. He’s here, in my resort, in my conference room, walking toward me like a predatory cat getting ready to pounce. Once again, I am powerless to move. My mind has shut down, but my body has come alive, heating up with the memory of what this man is capable of. I have to snap out of it. I will not be humiliated by him again. Ever. And he clearly has found an affinity for toying with me. I can see it on his face. He is very pleased with himself for having found me.
Before he can fully approach me and offer an introduction, I snap the hell out of it, square my shoulders, and offer him my back as I turn to make my way around the opposite end of the twenty-foot table and walk out the door. Once I’m outside, away from his godforsaken energy field that my body seems to be magnetically attracted to, I can breathe again.
“Son of a bitch!” I declare on a harsh whisper. How did I not see that coming? Impromptu, important meeting, can only deal with me specifically…the day after! How could I be so blind? Probably because I stupidly distracted myself with ridiculous notions of him being some porn mogul that I’d thankfully never see again.
Anger is now pumping a different kind of adrenaline through my veins. I hate how naive and out of control he makes me feel, and now I’m pissed. Yesterday I was confused, definitely angry, but also a little sad about what had happened. Now I’m fucking furious. The audacity of him to show up here, where I work, distracting me with his front man so he could sneak up on me. To do what? A repeat of yesterday, maybe lay me out on the goddamn conference room table? Not a chance, bastard.
Barely making it down the hall, I hear the door fly open and him jogging the short distance to get to me. “Charlotte, wait!” he says as he grabs onto my arm. The momentum of the sudden stop and him turning me toward him added nicely to the force of my hand slapping him across his gorgeous face. The sound echoes through the hallway, my hand stinging painfully.
“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.” I yank my arm out of his grasp, turn on my heel, and continue down the hall.
“I came back,” I hear him say, still standing where I left him. “Yesterday, I turned around and came back, but you were already gone.”
That statement stops me in my tracks. My back is still to him as I digest what the arrogant bastard just said. Now he’s done it. The floodgates are open, and I’m not feeling sorry for myself anymore. Sibel has busted out of the solitary confinement I left her in for what was supposed to be eternity, and she is out for blood. Slowly turning around, rage coursing through my body, I pause, trying to outdo the ferocity of his stare. God bless the heavens above, that man is physical fucking perfection and it makes me hate him even more. A burst of confidence has me marching right back to him. Even from a distance I can see the blazing red handprint on his cheek and it tightens my gut. “You came back, did you? For what?” My voice is venomous. “So you could gloat and humiliate me even more than you already had? What exactly did you think I would do upon your return, Mr. McAlistair? Drop to my fucking knees and beg for more?”
He doesn’t answer my question, just calmly states, “It’s Ian. My name is Ian.”
For whatever reason, knowing his name, Ian McAlistair, seems intimate and so personal that it makes my chest hurt. I swear on my life, he is not human; he’s from another time and place or bloody planet where it’s normal for people to play sorcery on your body and totally mess with your head.
His voice is calm as he continues. “I wasn’t sure what you would do. But I knew I had made a mistake, and I wanted to apologize.” His voice wraps around me like a warm, freshly filled bubble bath, releasing the tension and dulling my anger. Sibel fends it off, holding on to my rage for dear life.
Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I respond, “And since you missed your opportunity for this heartfelt apology yesterday, you decided a sneak attack here, where I work, where I have a very important position and reputation to uphold, would be more appropriate than a phone call, email, or maybe even a handwritten fucking note?”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and, not to be outdone, I raise one back at him.
“You’re right. I could have done any of those things, in spite of the fact each one is cowardly in its own way. By doing so, I would have left a clean opening for you to completely ignore me. And since my goal was to get your full attention, so I could look you in the eyes and tell you that I am sincerely sorry, I decided this was the quickest way to make that happen.” Hands in his pockets, he is totally at ease in his own skin. He’s so smooth and sure of himself, it flusters me to the point I want to childishly stomp my foot, growl out a deep-throated Ugh and disappear. I swear he knows it, too.
“Well, you said it. So you and your sidekick can be on your way.” I’m not sure where Jackso
n is during this whole confrontation. He must still be in the conference room. “I have a day off to enjoy, and your twenty-minute window just closed.” Turning to make my retreat, Ian follows close behind. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I’ve now presented a challenge, and he’s not going to let up until he gets what he wants.
When I hear him say my name, my first instinct is to stop and turn to him. But Sibel thumps me in the head saying, “Uh uh, sister.” And I keep moving.
“Charlotte,” he says again. “I had hoped we could finish discussing the details for Wednesday’s lunch meeting. Even though I only saw the conference room briefly, it’s perfect. I know my clients will be comfortable and beyond impressed. We just need to finalize the lunch menu.” He has no problem keeping up with my fast pace, regardless I have no intention of stopping.
Once I arrive at my office door, I turn to him, one hand on the knob. “Understand this, Mr. McAlistair, you are more than welcome to entertain your clients in this resort. I will ensure that everything is perfect, as I always do. But I will no longer be your contact. I will not be helping you with the menu, flower arrangements, wine selection, or anything from this point forward. I would recommend Jackson deal directly with Tracy. They are already acquainted, and surely you have better things to do with your time than pick out a lunch menu.” Turning the knob, I open the door only halfway, and once inside, I turn to him, blocking any entrance.
The look on his face is like a kick in the chest.
It doesn’t matter, though. All I have to say to him is, “Goodbye.”
Four
Ian
For several long minutes, I stand there, my hands braced on the doorframe, head hanging low. I’m trying very hard not to rip the fucking door off its hinges. It’s a herculean effort because every instinct that I live by is telling me that she’s mine and I need to go in and get her. Every knuckle is white, ready to explode from the force of my grip. I hold on a little longer as it helps release the energy that will otherwise have me doing something stupid.
On a deep breath, I slowly release the frame, stand up straight, roll my neck, and casually head back to the conference room where I left Jackson. No doubt he has a thing or two to say about what just happened.
Entering the room, I think about seeing Charlotte standing there. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, a few curls drifting around her face. She looked younger and more gorgeous than I remembered. My controlled steps couldn’t get me to her fast enough. I wanted a proper introduction. I wanted her to know my name so I could hear her say it, watching her supple mouth form the words. Perhaps my ego overestimated the outcome of my surprise visit, because as soon as I was close enough to watch her fully register what was happening, the shock and anger was evident in her eyes, and I knew she was going to bolt.
I immediately went after her to the sound of Jackson’s voice saying, “Wow, Ian. That went well. What the hell did you do to her?” He was more serious than sarcastic.
The urgency to get to her had my guard down, and when she turned all her fury on me with an unexpected slap to my face—that stung like a bitch—I knew my mistake was monumental. The fire in her beautiful blue eyes when she told me not to touch her, the venom in her voice, was like a punch to the gut. I deserve worse, I know I do, and I have a feeling she will make it so.
Three thoughts enter my mind as I make my way back over to Jackson, who is patiently waiting for me to return: 1. I have never had a woman reject me, 2. I have never had a woman slap me across the face, and 3. I have never wanted a woman as much as I want Charlotte LeFay.
The women I’ve been with don’t question my intentions or resist my advances. Having mastered the art of physical pleasure, I know what they want, and they submit to it—every time. Today, however, my flawless record has been broken.
“I gotta say, Ian, I’m curious as hell to know what you did to deserve that kind of welcome. But truthfully, I’m afraid if I know, I might have to kick your ass because that has to be one of the most charming, sincere, and genuinely awesome young ladies I’ve ever come across. Other than Becca, of course.” Jackson always tells me like it is, which is one of the many reasons why I trust him so much.
“Yes, Jackson, you probably would. Which is why I’m not telling you. And you’re right, she’s pretty damn awesome,” I say, staring out the window overlooking a tropical paradise. “I’m going to have my work cut out for me this time, and I’m afraid I’m rather lacking in the art of the chase.” I finish my thought on an exhale, rubbing the back of my neck, then the side of my face where she nailed me.
“Looks like I won’t have to kick your ass. Apparently, she already took care of it. That’s a hot little hand mark you’ve got there. Contrasts nicely with your eyes.” He thinks it’s funny, of course. Jackson and I are polar opposites when it comes to women. He’s sweet and charming, old-fashioned and committed—his perfect marriage and lack of personal issues a testament to that. I, on the other hand, don’t do commitment. My relationships lean more toward the friends with benefits kind where the benefits are the main focus. I can do dinner dates and attend functions together, but it never runs deep—no emotional attachments, no baggage. It’s pretty cut and dry, and it has worked well for me. But now, a wrench has been thrown into my well-oiled, smoothly running machine, a wrench by the name of Charlotte LeFay. There is something different with her, and I won’t let up until I know what it is.
Heading out the door, I’m firm in my declaration. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, asshole. But rest assured, I will have Charlotte. In every way possible.”
Back in my office and back on my game, I focus on Wednesday’s meeting with the Brazilian firm, Novas Alturas Development, which made it big during Brazil’s economic boom, developing some of the area’s most spectacular high rises. Their reputation is superior and their pockets deep. A move to Miami to expand their range and footprint makes sense since Brazil’s boom came to a screeching halt. Unable to keep up with itself, it created an infrastructure nightmare that has yet to be resolved. This move to South Florida keeps up their momentum and stays in line with the Brazilians’ love for all things Miami. I think they may have surpassed Cubans as the dominant subculture.
They contacted me a few months ago after acquiring a dilapidated warehouse building and two adjacent properties near the bay. It’s an excellent location. However, if the city doesn’t make it possible for them to implement the necessary changes to the existing traffic lanes and intersections, it may not be. In reality, that is unlikely. The city would be stupid to create any obstacles to the redevelopment of that area. It’s long overdue and will dramatically increase the real estate values of the surrounding areas, not to mention the significant tax base increase, which means more money in the city’s coffers. To ensure success, Novas Alturas needs a solid connection and partnership here in the States, preferably Miami. That’s where I come in.
McAlistair Architecture, Design & Development is the company I created eight years ago after a two-year internship and working my way up the ladder at one of New York’s biggest real estate investment and development firms. I had a knack for almost everything but especially enjoyed working with the architects and interior designers to come up with style signatures for each project. We always considered location, culture, history of the area—anything that helped tell the story of where the building was and why it was there.
It was a fascinating and inspiring process that made the less enjoyable aspects of real estate development much more satisfying and worthwhile. So when I moved to Miami, I included architecture and design departments as part of my development company, instead of contracting other companies when those services were needed. Doing so has created the opportunity for us to have a hand in more than just what we develop. Allowing the McAlistair brand to have a broader reach and my strict standards ensure our brand’s reputation is solid.
A knock on the door announces Jackson’s entry and the stupid smirk on his smug little face. “
How’s your afternoon going so far, boss-man?” Putting his hand up to his cheek and patting it gently, he continues. “That cheek finally cooling down? Hope it doesn’t bruise, that’d be awkward.” A laugh escapes, the sound bouncing across my office like a bass drum. I get why he thinks it’s so funny, and because I’m not a complete asshole who can’t ever find humor in himself, I laugh along with him.
“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” I say, getting up and heading to the fridge to get a water.
“No, Ian. I’m not.” His matter-of-fact tone contradicts the underlying chuckle. “You know I love you, man. But you’ve had it way too easy when it comes to the ladies. I don’t even think you know what it’s like to have to work for it, even a little. You never have, with your weird-ass good looks that melt panties everywhere you go. I swear I used to think you had some kind of mojo that warped a chick’s mind into doing whatever the hell you wanted.” He’s a bit more serious as he concludes, “How can you fully appreciate the value of what you have if you need zero effort to get it? You can’t. That’s why nothing ever sticks with you.” He raises an eyebrow and tips his head. “It’s high time you start getting a taste of what you’ve been missing.”
“Yeah, I know what I’ve been tasting, and it’s pretty fucking sweet. And I’m not sure what you’re getting at here. It’s not like I’m going to walk into The Clara Sea, get down on one knee, and ask Charlotte to marry me.” Simply making that idiotic comment sends heat down my spine. I chug the rest of my water, hoping to extinguish it. “She’s a beautiful woman that has me intrigued. I’ve admittedly started out on the wrong foot with her, which is also…admittedly…a first for me.” Walking over to him, I hold up my fist for a bump. “But I can guarantee you this, that wall that she’s put up will come down, even if I have to break it down with my bare hands. So you’re right, I may finally have to work at it, but I intend to enjoy it every step of the way.”
The Essence of Fate Page 4