Take Me To The Beach

by K. L. Grayson, Karina Halle, A. L. Jackson, Marni Mann, Monica Murphy, Devney Perry, Kristen Proby, Rachel Van Dyken

  I blink at him once. Twice. Three times, before I managed to say, “Come again?”

  Another ragged exhale leaves him while he squeezes my hand. “We’re trying to acquire an old hotel in Paris, and we’re in the midst of negotiations, though we were confident it was already ours. Now, my father’s not so confident, there’s another company trying to outbid us, and my father asked me to go to Paris to talk to the original owners so we can seal this deal. And he wants my fiancée to go with me.”

  “Um, he knows you and Tiffany broke it off, right?”

  “Yes, he knows. But he was also disappointed that we broke it off. Not because he loves Tiffany, more so for the image of me being a man who’s about to get married and start a family.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Let me explain.”

  We go sit on the couch and he launches into his story. The Descheaux family owns a crumbling old hotel building the Wilder Corporation is desperate to acquire. They were a family run business nostalgic for the old days, when the father and his sons ran their three hotels in Paris. Times have changed, the eldest son passed unexpectedly a few years ago, there were some mismanaged funds by their former CFO, and business tanked. All of the hotels were eventually closed, one building has already been sold and one of them is in a highly prized location.

  “It’s right across from the Louvre. Down the street from the Ritz and the Place Vendome. High end shopping, high end restaurants mixed with touristy spots, it’s in an ideal location, and we want it. It would be the perfect start for the first Wilder hotel in Europe,” Alex says.

  “That sounds amazing.” I pause. “I still don’t quite understand why you need a fiancée when you meet with these people, though.”

  “My father thinks it’ll be just the advantage we need to lock in this deal. Portraying us as a family run business ready to create more generations is the message he wants to send,” Alex says, his expression vaguely uncomfortable.

  His words, of course, make me think of us working on creating that next generation. In case you don’t get where I’m coming from, I’m imagining having sex with Alex.

  My cheeks are still hot, no surprise. I’m also feeling a little squirmy, and not in a bad way.

  “So he wants the picture perfect fiancée by your side. The adoring future wife,” I say, hoping I’m on the right track.

  “That’s exactly what he wants.” Alex nods. “I know you have a full time job at Noteworthy. I’m guessing it’ll probably be difficult for you to get the time off.”

  “The schedule is already out for this week.” I have Friday off—unusual—and back to back to back appointments on Saturday. Wedding fever is kicking in.

  “How easygoing is your boss?”

  “Iris is pretty wonderful.” But is she so wonderful that she’ll give me a week off at the last minute so I can go to freaking Paris?

  Maybe.

  “I guess the first question I need to ask is, do you want to come to Paris with me?”

  I stare into his eyes, noting how hopeful his expression is, how much he’s reminding me of early teenage Alex right now. I would’ve done pretty much anything for that boy back then. Those old feelings come rushing back, filling me with longing, and I say without thinking…

  “Yes. I’ll go to Paris with you.”

  Chapter 22

  It was surprisingly easy to get a week off. I’d gone to work Monday morning terrified Iris would tell me no. She knew something was up when we had our weekly GoT discussion and I didn’t have much to add to the conversation. When she finally asked me what was wrong, I told her I was hoping I could take some vacation time starting Wednesday—then promptly burst into tears.

  After Iris comforted me and my tears dried up, I told her I was invited to go to Paris, and she said that leaving for a week wouldn’t be a problem. Since I started at Noteworthy, I rarely took a big chunk of vacation time. More like I’d take a couple days of here and there, and though my request was so last minute, she reassured me she was up to the challenge. She’d handle my appointments for me, plus she’d recently hired another part time employee so she’d have that new person work more hours while I’m gone.

  I didn’t let her know the entire reason for going to France—pretending to be Alex’s fiancée. I merely told her a last minute opportunity had come up with a friend, and I’d hoped to go as long as I could get the time off. Iris was more than understanding, and actually quite excited for me to travel to Paris.

  Lucky for me, I already have a passport, since I’ve gone on a few girls trips over the years to all-inclusive resorts in Mexico. I worked Monday, did my laundry and started packing that night, worked a six hour shift Tuesday, and by the time I got home, Alex was waiting at my apartment.

  “We’re going to take a charter plane to Los Angeles,” he explains to me once we’re on the road and headed for the airport. “And from there, we’ll fly private to Paris.”

  My mouth pops open. “We’re flying on a private plane to France?”

  He nods, a little smile curling his mouth. “It was such a last minute trip, my father felt it would be best. He wants us there as soon as possible.”

  Okay, I feel like a baller. Seriously, a private jet?

  My baller mood slips when we get to the Monterey Regional Airport and I see the little plane we’re supposed to take to Los Angeles.

  “We’re flying on that?” I hesitate, pointing at the plane we’re walking toward. “How many seats are in there?”

  “It’s just us and the pilot, we’ll be fine.” Alex offers me a reassuring smile, but come on. That plane is tiny.

  My knees knocking, I watch as two men start loading our luggage into the plane while we wait for the pilot to finish flight checks. We’re on the tarmac, the wind whipping around furiously, planes roaring by us, and I’m…

  Silently freaking the hell out.

  “You okay?” Alex steps closer to me, his voice low.

  I shake my head. “Not really.”

  “Don’t like to fly?” He slips his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him, giving me a squeeze.

  “Not on planes that small.” I feel a little better with Alex’s arm around me. Okay, I feel a lot better. He’s so solid and warm, and he makes me feel safe.

  Though the safe feeling leaves me when we board the plane. There are only six seats, and I practically fall into one of them, slipping on my seatbelt with shaky fingers. I should’ve brought some Xanax. Stella offered me a few—she’s a nervous flier and she has a prescription for times like this—but I told her I would be fine.

  Well, right now, I’m not feeling so fine.

  At all.

  “Want a drink?” Alex asks once he’s seated next to me.

  I shake my head and grip the armrests. The plane engine isn’t even on yet, and I’m already tense.

  “I have booze.”

  I swallow, hating how dry my throat is. “What kind of booze?”

  “Vodka. Ice. Cranberry juice.” He points toward the smallest makeshift bar ever, and relief makes me slump in my seat.

  “I’ll take a vodka cranberry please. Heavy on the vodka and ice.”

  Chuckling, Alex makes me a drink and then hands it over. I take it eagerly, draining most of it in one swallow, and he watches me with amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re kind of a wreck.”

  “Tell me all about it.” I rattle the ice in my plastic cup and drink some more. Listen, I’m not one to drink alcohol on a constant basis. In my early twenties I liked to party, I won’t lie. I enjoy a glass of wine in the evening, but not every evening. And mimosas during Sunday brunch make the meal a much better experience.

  Today though, on this stupid little plane, I’m feeling the need for liquor, and lots of it. I can already feel the vodka working its magic as it slips through my veins, making me warm. Without having to ask, Alex pours a little more into my cup, along with a splash of cranberry juice to give it some color. The vodka is cold a
nd sharp, and my throat is burning, but I can already tell I’m mellowing out.

  By the time we’re starting down the runway, I’m downright relaxed. No more gripping the armrests for me. My shoulders are loose. I’m sharing my current favorite memes with Alex on my phone—his suggestion, he’s a smart one, looking to distract me—and we keep our heads bent together as we both laugh at the silly videos and captions. Once we’re in the air, there are only a few bumps and some very minor turbulence before we get to flying altitude.

  “Not so bad, right?” Alex flashes me a smile, his voice raised so I can hear him over the loud propellers.

  “Not so bad,” I agree, finishing off my second very full glass of vodka. “Hope I don’t have to pee anytime soon.”

  Damn it, I can’t believe I just said that. Stupid vodka.

  He laughs. “We won’t be up in the air for too long. This is a quick flight. Like not even an hour.”

  “What time do we fly out for Paris?”

  “The plane is scheduled to depart at seven, but depending on the pilot’s arrival and how soon the plane is ready, we could possibly leave earlier. I know that would please my father. The quicker we’re in Paris, the happier he’ll be.” The grim look on Alex’s handsome face tells me he’s under enormous pressure to finalize this deal.

  He’s given me a few more details in regards to us meeting with the Descheaux family, but not much. I’m starting to wonder if he’s going into this as blind as I am.

  I sincerely hope not.

  “How long is the flight?” I ask.

  “Around eleven hours, give or take.”

  I must make a face of horror or despair, I’m not sure which, but I’m feeling both emotions. That is a long time—the longest flight I’ve ever taken. And Alex immediately tries to reassure me.

  “It won’t be so bad on the private jet,” he says with a slight smile. “It will be a very comfortable flight.”

  “If you say so.” I imagine the plane has to be bigger than this one in order for us to fly international.

  “When I was a child, we flew private all the time,” Alex says and I lean in closer, thrilled to be given a glimpse into Alex’s past. “My father was busy growing the business, and a lot of the time, we traveled with him.”

  “That must’ve been fun,” I say.

  “It was, though sometimes it was really stressful. Did you know my younger brother is autistic?” When I nod, he continues. “He didn’t travel well. Still doesn’t. He prefers his routine, the things that are familiar to him. Despite the fact that our family owned a hotel chain, James absolutely hates staying in a hotel room. You think he’d grow used to it after all these years, but he still doesn’t like it. He rarely travels.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-three.” Alex smiles and there’s a fondness, a warmth in his expression I don’t normally see. I can tell just by the look on his face that he really cares about his brother. “He’s a lot of fun. Very smart. He works for the company too.”

  “He does?”

  “Yeah. He’s in the accounting department, he’s scary good with numbers. Our father didn’t want him to work for the company at all at first. He was afraid James wouldn’t be able to focus for eight hours a day, so he relented and had him work part time hours at first. He wasn’t in the accounting department starting out either, but our sister Meredith caught him in there one day, pouring over our quarterly statements and finding mistakes.” Alex chuckles. “He was right about those mistakes too. So Meredith switched James’ position, eventually gave him full time hours, and he’s worked there ever since.”

  “That’s amazing,” I say. “Did James go to college?”

  “No, but he probably should. He’s freaking brilliant.”

  “So why did you stop flying private?” I ask, curious to get back to the original topic.

  “Oh, my father found out the business’s carbon footprint was terrible, and the biggest contributor was the private jet. So he sometimes leases it out to other companies we work with, but for the most part, it’s rarely in use. The Wilder Corporation does its best to maintain itself as a green company,” Alex explains.

  I’m fascinated by his stories, at the inner workings of his family’s company. What he does, what his entire family does, is such a huge responsibility. One I’m fairly sure I couldn’t maintain, no matter how hard I tried.

  I balk at the idea of Iris wanting me to take over Noteworthy, and that’s just one store. I can’t imagine running such a large corporation. Being responsible for so many employees. It all sounds like…

  A lot.

  Too much, if I’m being honest.

  Yet Alex does it as if it’s his birthright, and I suppose it is. As the oldest son, I’m sure there are expectations thrust upon him that he can’t avoid. The pressure must be enormous. No wonder he doesn’t have much time for a relationship. I can almost forgive him for choosing Tiffany as his future wife.

  Almost.

  “Okay, I didn’t think the plane was going to be this badass!”

  This is the first thing I say upon entering the Wilder private jet. It’s amazing. There are oversized leather chairs, a freaking couch, a giant TV mounted on the wall, and there’s even a small dining table set for eight (eight!), right next to the mother truckin’ kitchen.

  “You like it?” Alex sounds amused. I think I’ve consistently amused him since we left my apartment. I’m acting like a total travel noob, but come on. I’ve never traveled like this before. I would say the majority of people in the entire world haven’t traveled like this before either.

  It’s kind of awesome.

  “I love it,” I tell him as I wander to the back of the plane. There’s a bedroom back there. Two of them! And a decent-sized bathroom. “Oh my gosh, we can sleep in a bed back here? Get out.”

  “I told you we would be flying comfortably,” Alex reminds me.

  An understatement, for sure. “Wow.” I stop talking when I spot a woman standing just behind Alex, clad in a black skirt suit and a crisp white shirt.

  “Good evening Mr. Wilder, Ms. Abbott. Welcome to tonight’s flight. My name is Heather and I’ll be your personal attendant for the duration of your trip to Paris. I do hope you’ve found the accommodations to your liking so far?”

  “Everything is perfect, Heather. Thank you,” Alex says, the epitome of professionalism. I could learn a thing or two from him, instead of blurting out the word badass when describing this plane.

  “There is meal service on this flight, both a late dinner and then breakfast about an hour before we land.” Heather smiles, revealing perfect straight white teeth. “Would you care for anything to drink as we prepare for takeoff?”

  Alex sends me a look before answering for the both of us. “Water will be fine for us both for now, thank you.”

  Heather nods and leaves us, heading to the kitchen at the front of the plane.

  “I didn’t think you wanted any more alcohol this evening,” Alex says to me after she’s gone.

  “You’re right.” I’m feeling way too relaxed. My head is even a little spinny. I probably need to eat something soon. “Do you think Heather has any snacks? I probably drank too much vodka on an empty stomach.”

  “Absolutely, I’ll go ask her for something to snack on right now.” Alex leaves me to go speak with Heather and the moment I’m alone, I whip out my phone and start taking photos. I have to share this plane with my girls.

  I open up the group chat we have and send the photos. The responses are immediate.

  That’s what your flying on???!!!

  Rich bitch!

  So jelly!

  When I send a photo of the bedroom with the full size bed, they all lose their shit. Lots of emojis and gifs, and the best response is from Stella.

  Are you going to have sex with him on that bed?? You ho!

  I immediately text back.

  Of course I’m not having sex with him on that bed. I’m a lady.

  Then I s
end my most used emoji, the crying laughing one.

  More gifs and emojis come at me in response.

  I seriously love my friends so much.

  Once I’ve finished texting, I walk out of the bedroom to find Alex sitting in one of the comfy looking chairs, waiting for me. There’s an identical chair that faces his, with a small table in between them. There are two glasses of water with ice on the table, as well as a tray filled with an array of yummy snacks. My stomach growls as I sit in the chair and I grab the glass closest to me, taking a sip of water before I reach for a handful of nuts from a small cup.

  “They’re warm,” I tell Alex before popping them in my mouth.

  “That’s first class treatment right there,” he says.

  “I’ve never flown first class before, so I wouldn’t know.” I’m hit with how my lifestyle is completely different from his. As a kid, we didn’t have much. Mom struggled and our father often forgot to send her the child support check he owed her, not that she actually went to the courts and had it mandated. No, that was too much trouble for her, which I never understood, but whatever.

  She had a hard time finding work for a while, until eventually she got a job as a nurse’s assistant at a retirement home and that’s what she still does to this day.

  A nurse’s assistant salary doesn’t go too far when she’s supporting herself and two kids. We scraped by. Sometimes our dad sent us money, but that wasn’t very often. As soon as Carter was old enough, he got a job. Same with me, plus I took babysitting jobs before that. Any and all money I earned went to my necessities. Clothes and shoes and stuff like that. I’ve been taking care of myself for years, and same with my brother.

  Alex has no idea what it’s like, to live like that. Yes, he has responsibility and has to help run a corporation, but those things were handed to him.

  Nothing has ever been handed to me.

  “Caroline, I want to thank you again for doing this for me,” Alex says, his gaze meeting mine when I glance up. “I know this next week won’t be easy, having to pretend we’re together for the sake of the Descheaux family, and for my family’s future. I’ll owe you a lot when this trip is finished. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”