Текст книги "Compromising Her Position"
Автор книги: Samanthe Beck
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Chapter Three
“Holy shit,” Laurie uttered again.
Holy career suicide. I accidentally had sex with one of the most powerful players in the industry. She shut her eyes and concentrated on drawing air into her lungs.
St. Sebastian was the name in the luxury resort market. The wealthy, the famous, the privileged—or those who merely wanted to feel that way for a few precious days—swarmed to St. Sebastian properties to enjoy exclusive getaways.
“I’m so completely screwed.”
“Not necessarily,” Laurie whispered. “You made an honest mistake. Just take him aside and explain. Frankly, things could be worse. When you shove the wrong Santa into a closet and let him stuff your stocking, you should thank your lucky stars he turns out to be single, successful, and unbelievably sexy.”
“No wonder he didn’t think anything of a strange woman throwing herself at him—just another day in the life of Rafe St. Sebastian.”
According to the press, the CEO of St. Sebastian Luxury Resorts spent more time jetting between his high-end properties in the company of models, actresses, or heiresses than he spent in his corner office. All he had to do was cock one dark brow and women practically lined up to run their fingers through his thick hair, kiss his expressive lips, and drown in the depths of his aquamarine eyes. Eyes that now scoured the banquet room, no doubt searching for his most enthusiastic new employee.
Chelsea tugged Laurie toward the door. “What if he tells Paul? What am I going to do?”
“He won’t say anything,” Laurie assured as they snuck out of the banquet room.
“You don’t know that, but even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Keeping something like this from Paul is dishonest.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I have to tell him, and hope he can forgive me for making such a horrible mistake. I’ll call you later.”
On unsteady legs, she hurried to the elevators. Thankfully when she reached the business floor, she found the area deserted and slipped into Paul’s office unnoticed. She sat in one of the oxblood leather guest chairs and let her eyes roam the familiar space, taking in the formal furnishings. Massive oak desk, two walls lined with tall, imposing bookshelves. Not a particularly comfortable environment for her extremely delicate confession. Still, her mind ran through options. Hey, Paul, a funny thing happened on the way to the party. Well, not funny, exactly, but someday I’m sure we’ll laugh about it…
No, not good. Maybe, Paul, remember how I told you if you wore that Santa costume, your own mother wouldn’t recognize you? Uh-uh. Best leave his mother out of the discussion.
Before she settled on an approach, the door swung open and Paul walked into the office. He stopped short when he spotted her. “Chelsea. Hello. I guess Cindy told you I wanted to speak with you?”
God, he sounded tired. His normally smooth, combed-back dark hair showed wear and tear, and his glacier blue eyes bounced around the room as if afraid to rest in one place too long. Once again she thought of all the pressures he shouldered, and her gut twisted, knowing she was about to add to his stress. There was no way to sugarcoat this. Best to dive right in. “No. I’m here because, um, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Me first,” he interrupted, cutting her off mid-dive. “I need to get something off my chest. It’s overdue.”
After months of tense silences and secretive behavior, which she’d attributed to the—ha, ha—joke of an audit, he now had something to say that couldn’t wait? If he was so anxious to talk, why couldn’t he have taken three lousy minutes out of his day to tell her he’d given the Santa suit to someone else?
“Cindy is pregnant.”
Chelsea’s jaw dropped. “Cindy Ruffy, our director of human resources?”
Paul nodded.
On the heels of shock came unease. Why not make an announcement to the entire team? Why pull her aside for a one-on-one meeting? But even as those questions took shape, she admonished herself for finding fault. The woman was single, and, as far as Chelsea knew, not dating anyone. Her pregnancy would raise speculation—mostly of the unflattering variety—because Cindy’s throw-people-under-the-bus approach to her career hadn’t earned her many fans at Las Ventanas. Maybe she hoped a controlled distribution of the news would help minimize the gossip?
Paul seemed to be waiting for a response, so she said, “Goodness, I had no idea. I didn’t realize she was interested in starting a family, but, if she’s happy, I’m happy for her. Do we know the father?”
“Yes. Chelsea, I– There’s no good way to tell you this. I’m the father.”
She’d heard the expression “shocked speechless” before, but never truly lived it. Never experienced this strange paralysis where her lips and tongue disconnected from her brain. After a couple false starts, her synapses finally unfroze. “You and Ruff-Ruff?”
He frowned. “I know this comes as a shock, but I expected better from you.”
“Likewise,” she said, unreasonably proud her voice gave no clue of her crumbling heart. Then, before she could stop herself, she ruined it by asking the clichéd question. “Are you in love with her?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“Don’t go there, Chelsea. You’re a sweet girl. Dedicated. Generous. Trusting. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He made her sound like a golden retriever. “Then be honest with me. I deserve an explanation.”
He smoothed a hand over his hair, and sighed. “Cindy and I have a lot in common. Like me, she hasn’t spent her entire life within the protective bubble of Montenido. She’s bold and worldly.”
Bold? Worldly? “She’s from Fresno.”
“She goes after what she wants and she doesn’t let anything stand in her way. I’m like that, too. I’ve asked her to marry me, and she’s agreed.”
Truth lodged like a cold, hard lump in her throat. Neither the pregnancy, nor Paul’s feelings had snuck up on him over the past few weeks. This had been going on for a while, but he’d held off on breaking the news to her until the timing worked for him. “So while I slaved my butt off like a good little worker to help with a transaction I didn’t even know about, and you claimed to be tied up in meetings, you were actually sleeping with…her.”
He dropped into the chair beside hers and took her hand. “I didn’t plan this. Nobody’s at fault. There’s no one to blame. I deeply appreciate your support and loyalty as my career has taken off, but we’re in such different places now. You must sense it too. I hoped you would understand.”
She pulled her hand away and stood. “I understand completely.” He’d used her, strung her along for his benefit, and she’d been so eager to please him and win back the affection she’d sensed him withholding, she’d been pathetically easy to use. Granted, their relationship hadn’t been long, but she’d given it her all. She always did.
Clinging to her shredded pride, she shook her head and hurried to the door. She would not cry. Not here. She refused to let him see her fall apart. “I understand you’re not the man I thought you were. Good-bye, Paul.”
“Wait. You said you had something to tell me?”
She laughed, a bit hysterically, and opened the door. No need for true confessions on her part. What she had to say now would be quick, unrehearsed, and straight to the point. Without turning to look at him, she replied, “I resign, effective immediately. For obvious reasons, I decline the exit interview with HR.”
Chapter Four
Rafe fanned a handful of bonus envelopes onto Barrington’s desk. “These still need to be delivered to the employees.” From his seat in the guest chair, he absently studied the overblown desk and weighty bookshelves. Not his taste. It reminded him of a cut-rate version of his father’s office at St. Sebastian Enterprises’ New York headquarters.
Barrington glanced at the envelopes. “Leave them with me. I’ll have payroll mail them to the employees.”
“One is Chelsea Wayne’s. I saw her earlier today. I’d like to go ahead and deliver it. Can you direct me to her office?”
“She’s not here. Chelsea resigned shortly after the party.”
Shit. Had she resigned because of what happened in the supply closet? If so, what reason had she given Barrington? He couldn’t afford rumors of misconduct to pollute this deal. His father’s conditions for stepping down as chairman of the board had been very clear: three completed acquisitions, flawlessly executed and seamlessly integrated. Las Ventanas brought the count to two. At least it had, until this afternoon, when he’d given in to the rush of taking a risk. Now the goal he’d been chasing started spiraling out of reach like a fly ball he’d taken his eye off for one second too long.
“Resigned? That’s very sudden, isn’t it?” He kept his voice cool, despite his concern, and eyed Barrington until the other man lifted his head and returned his stare. “After all, she’s a rising star at Las Ventanas. We had plans for her.”
Barrington’s gaze slithered away and he cleared his throat. “I had to deliver some disappointing personal news to her today. Being unprofessional and immature, she reacted by tendering her resignation.”
The ground firmed under his feet and the trajectory between goal and attainment aligned once again. Her departure didn’t revolve around their case of mistaken identity. Even so, her resignation presented a problem, and, more frustrating, Barrington didn’t seem to appreciate that fact. “I’m surprised you’re so calm about it, Paul. A source gave me the impression you and Chelsea were close. Some would say intimate.” Since his “source” was Chelsea herself, he felt reasonably confident making the statement.
The helmet-headed blowhard chuckled and wagged a finger at him. “Your sources are good, but not quite up-to-date. We dated, casually, for the past few months, but I broke things off with her today.” He sighed, as if burdened by the strain of the ordeal. “Chelsea took it hard. She opted to resign.”
“And you let her? St. Sebastian considers her a key employee. The sellers told us she played an instrumental role in realizing Las Ventanas’ potential as a family resort. Before then, it was just another pleasant but unremarkable property vying for distinction in Montenido’s crowded romantic getaway market.”
Barrington frowned. “Chelsea and I partnered on the project. We both recognized our prime location and large number of multi-room suites meant Las Ventanas could position itself as an upscale, family-friendly destination. And, yes, with my guidance, she created a plan to successfully attract the demographic we targeted. However, with all due respect, I think you’re overstating the value of a single, second-tier employee.”
With all due respect generally meant none, and in this case the feeling was mutual. “You consider the assistant manager a second-tier employee?”
“She’s enthusiastic and full of ideas, but she’s also extremely green. Once the owners promoted me to general manager, I quickly realized mentoring her was a full-time job. It took someone with my business acumen to sift through all her ideas and separate the gold from the garbage. It took someone with my skills to turn those ideas into reality.”
What in God’s name had she seen in this dickhead? A St. Sebastian-caliber leader understood management’s role to attract talented, enthusiastic people to the team, and then give them the resources they needed to succeed, not minimize their contributions and take credit for their ideas. On that philosophy, he and his father steadfastly agreed, which meant Barrington had to go. Not immediately, because firing the general manager risked inciting a mass exodus as everyone assumed they were about to get canned, but he’d start a discreet search. He’d happily pull the plug on Barrington when they found the right successor. In the meantime, however, Chelsea’s sudden departure sent a negative message to other employees. Obviously, he needed to point that out. With all due respect.
“She’s good at her job, and popular with guests and staff. Allowing her to leave on the heels of the acquisition implies we dismissed her or she resigned rather than be associated with St. Sebastian. Neither implication is acceptable as they both give rise to an employee retention issue. Talk her out of it. At the very least, negotiate an extension.”
Paul looked as if he’d swallowed his tongue. “How in God’s name am I supposed to do that?”
Rafe stood and shrugged. “Use your business acumen to figure it out.”
“It’s not that simple. There’s a…complication.”
“It’s not complicated. I’ll break it down for you. Convince. Her. To. Stay.”
“I’m involved with another staff member,” he blurted. “I’m engaged to Cindy Ruffy. Under the circumstances, Chelsea’s departure is for the best.”
Fuck. If she had any pride, she sure as hell wasn’t going to stay. “Nice timing, Paul. You drop this on her at the holiday party, right after we announce the deal. What were you thinking?”
“I held out until the deal closed, so she didn’t leave while there was work to be done. But I couldn’t wait any longer. Cindy and I are starting a family. Her condition will become apparent, and she wants to get married before—”
“I get it,” he interrupted, not bothering to hide his impatience. Barrington couldn’t sink much lower in his estimation. St. Sebastian definitely did not want this guy. The sooner he found a replacement, the better. They’d manage the messaging to the staff, as they would the news about Chelsea’s departure.
Already focused on the next steps, he strode toward the door. What a mess. Luc wouldn’t miss the opportunity to point out he’d failed to identify a significant interpersonal cluster-fuck lurking below the surface at Las Ventanas. But it was containable. He paused at the door, and turned to Barrington. “Here’s how this is going to go down. We—meaning St. Sebastian’s corporate communications specialists, and not you, or Miss Ruffy, or anyone else—will handle the employee announcement regarding Chelsea’s departure. We’ll prepare a release for tomorrow morning. If I hear a whisper about it before then, both you and Miss Ruffy are fired. Understood?”
“B-but that’s completely unfair! Chelsea could say something to someone.”
“You should hope she has better things to do than broadcast her personal life.”
He certainly hoped she did.
“My whole life just blew up,” Chelsea sobbed as she sat on a stool in Babycakes’ white tile and stainless steel kitchen, clutching a glass of cabernet in one hand and the last quarter of a double frosted fudge brownie cupcake in the other. Until now, she wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel anything but blissfully happy at Babycakes. Usually just breathing in the scents of vanilla and cinnamon, seeing the explosion of colors in the glass display cases, sent her mood soaring. But not tonight. Thank God the bakery had closed an hour ago. Customers didn’t want a side of crazy-woman-having-a-breakdown with their coffee and carbs.
Laurie took Chelsea’s wineglass and placed it on the counter, then handed her a wad of tissues and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Today goes down in the record book of bad days, for sure, but come on, your life hasn’t blown up.”
“Y-yes, it has.” She finished the last bite of the cupcake, and scrubbed the tissue over her cheeks. “Let me reconstruct the blast for you. The man I was involved with cheated on me and dumped me for the ice queen of HR, who also happens to be the mother of his unborn child. To spare myself the humiliation of watching them live happily ever after, I resigned from a job I loved, which ultimately may have been unnecessary, because after the stunt I pulled in the supply closet, I was likely to get fired as soon as the new owner found an excuse to boot me.” She crumpled the tissue. “God, when did I become such a loser?”
Laurie gave her a squeeze. “You’re not a loser. You picked a loser. There’s a difference.”
“Not to me. I’m tired of having my heart stomped on.” She tossed the tissue into the trash. “I’m done with love.”
“Because of Paul Barrington? That’s like giving up cake because you had a bad Twinkie.”
“Paul’s a Twinkie?”
“The human equivalent. A Twinkie isn’t real cake, and what you had with Paul wasn’t real love.”
“If Paul was my only disastrous choice, I might put the blame on him, but he’s not. Look at my history. Chad Dunkleman ditched me at prom and took Tammy Ballsmore home in the white stretch Hummer I kicked in half the money to rent. We’d dated for three years.”
“Tammy had a well-earned reputation for living up to her last name, Chad was drunk, and you secretly hated the idea of giving up your V-card in the cheesy white Hummer. You can’t possibly regret holding out for something better than prom night with Chad Dunkleman.”
She shrugged. “So I held out for college, only to have my boyfriend spend a semester in Spain and elope with a girl he met in a Barcelona nightclub.”
“Hey, at least you didn’t pay for the trip.”
“No, but I spent hours tutoring him in Spanish so he’d qualify for the study abroad program.” She picked up her wine and took a long gulp, wishing she could numb her heart as easily as she could numb her face. “Every single one of my relationships follows the same pattern. I trust. I give. I get dumped. Well, I’m done. The universe has been trying to send me a message, and today I received it, loud and clear. I only had to lose everything to finally listen. No more men. No more dating. No more love.”
“You can’t take what happened with Paul as a sign from the universe. Love sucker-punches everyone at some point.”
“Not you.”
Laurie didn’t even try to deny it. “That’s because I know how to guard my heart.” She tapped a snowflake-embossed red fingernail on the stainless steel counter. “Not because I’ve given up on men.”
“I lack the heart-guarding gene.”
“No, you don’t. You simply haven’t learned to use it. Why would you? Your mom married her high school sweetheart. For her, your dad was Mr. Forever.” She made air quotes around the words. “Heartwarming, but not very realistic these days, yet you approach dating as a quest for Mr. Forever instead of a chance to have a little fun, bask in mutual attraction, and, ideally, enjoy entertaining sex with Mr. For-the-Moment.”
Chelsea propped an elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her palm. “That’s all you want from a relationship? Sexy fun with Mr. For-the-Moment?”
She shrugged. “Call me shallow, but yeah, that’s all I’m expecting. If a guy wants more from me, he’s got to earn it.”
“And how does he do that?”
“No one’s managed yet, but in theory, he proves he’s got more to give.”
“But if no man has met your standard, maybe you’ve set your standard too high?”
“I’m not the one crying into my wine tonight,” she pointed out. “You, on the other hand, leave your heart way too accessible, instead of making a man demonstrate he’s worthy of the emotional investment. You treat him like he’s the prize.” She poked Chelsea’s shoulder. “You’re the prize. Start treating yourself like one.”
She placed her wineglass on the counter and turned the smooth, slim stem with her fingers. “I don’t feel like a prize. I feel like a fool.”
“You’re not a fool, Chels, but you’re living your life by all the nice girl rules your mother drummed into you, and that’s not who you are.”
“I’m not a nice girl?”
Laurie poked her again. “You know what I mean. You’re a caterer.”
“Um. No. Last time I checked I was unemployed.”
“I mean you cater to people. There’s a part of you that craves approval, and you seek it by being the perfect daughter, perfect employee. Perfect girlfriend. It’s no accident you’re so good at your job. The hospitality industry revolves around anticipating and accommodating your guests’ needs. You’re a natural. But those caterer instincts that make you so good at your job carry over to your relationships, and…well…you get taken advantage of.”
Truth weighed heavy. She dropped her head to the counter and rested her hot face against the cold steel. “I’m back to feeling like a fool. I guess I need some new rules.”
Laurie patted her back. “You do, because there’s another side to this nice girl. She’s fun-loving, a little bit naughty, and she wants to come out and play.”
Chelsea sniffed. “You think so?”
“I know so. She tackle-fucked Rafe St. Sebastian in a supply closet.”
“Wow. Did you invent that term for me?”
“Yep.” She buffed her nails on her sweater, and then blew on them.
“Okay, here’s the thing, whatever I did, I did it by mistake. I didn’t know it was him.”
“Well, next time you should—”
“Oh, no. No next time.”
“Why? Not only is he a walking orgasm, but one with the power to render a woman deaf, dumb, and blind with pleasure.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes, though she could feel the flush rising in her cheeks. “Do you really see me getting involved with someone like Rafe St. Sebastian, playboy billionaire?”
“Who said anything about getting involved? You’re living by new rules, remember? No more looking for Mr. Forever. You’re looking for Mr. For-the-Moment. You seek fun, attraction, and mind-blowing sex. He meets all three criteria. Naughty Chelsea wants to play, and he’s the perfect plaything. Consider him an important first step on a journey of personal growth and self-discovery.”
Except it would be a short journey, because I’d die of embarrassment if I ever saw him again. Though true, something told her the explanation would disappoint Laurie, so she offered another truth. “I’ve got more pressing priorities right now than finding a plaything. Even Naughty Chelsea has obligations, and she needs a paycheck to meet them.”
Her friend’s grin faded. “How dire is the situation?”
“My pride didn’t check my bank balance before I tendered my resignation. I just walked away from a Christmas bonus I kind of already spent on gifts.” Gifts like the Rolex Paul wanted—the one she’d had engraved and couldn’t return. “Visa’s going to knock on my door pretty hard come January.”
“I can’t scrape together a lot, but I can help if you need a loan.”
She shook her head. Laurie funneled every extra dime into Babycakes. Chelsea couldn’t take resources away from her best friend’s dream. “Thanks, but hopefully I’m going to get another job right away. This afternoon I spoke with a recruiter who’s been calling about a general manager opportunity at a Tradewinds Resort. I’m interviewing with the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Templeton, tomorrow at their headquarters in Los Angeles.”
“That’s awesome.” She picked up a towel and began wiping down the counter. “Where’s the resort?”
Chelsea mentally braced for another outburst. “Maui.”
“Maui!” She dropped the towel. “Chels, when I told you to start a new phase of your life, I didn’t mean pack up and move thousands of miles away.”
“I’m not packing my bags yet. It’s just an interview. I haven’t gotten the job.”
“You will. And then I’ll miss you.”
Chelsea reached over and hugged her friend, burying her face in Laurie’s curls. “I’ll miss you too, but I think a change of scenery would do me good.” She drew away. “Sounds a lot better than hanging around Montenido, unemployed and broke, watching Cindy and Paul get married and start a family.”
“You’d be hanging around Montenido, watching Paul and Cindy make each other miserable, as they inevitably will, and thanking God it didn’t happen to you.”
“I love you, but I realize, as my friend, you’re duty-bound to say stuff like Paul and Cindy deserve each other and are destined for misery. And not say stuff like, ‘I told you so,’ and ‘You’re an idiot.’”
“They are bound for misery, and you’re not an idiot.” Laurie took their wineglasses to the sink.
“Well, I feel like a pretty big one. A few thousand miles might change my perspective, but, right now—”
“Right now you need some distance. I get it. Moving to Maui ought to give you plenty.”
Chelsea picked up a dishtowel and twisted it in her hands. “Hopefully. That’s the plan.”
“Tradewinds…the name sounds familiar. Isn’t it one of those resorts where people go to hook up while on vacation?”
“Maui’s most spectacular singles destination. Flirt, mingle, and make your fantasies come true during your dream vacation. Perfect job for a woman embracing her naughty side, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. But still. Maui.”
“I know.” A lump threatened to form in her throat at the thought of leaving her family, friends—everything she loved. She swallowed it down. “Anyway, I should get going. Thanks for the shoulder to cry on.”
“My sofa has a vacancy.”
Though tempted, Chelsea shook her head. Her apartment was a short walk along well-lit sidewalks she knew like the back of her hand. She’d leaned on Laurie enough for one night.
“I have some stuff I need to see to at home.”
Polish her résumé.
Change her Facebook status to “Jilted.”
Donate an absurdly expensive watch to charity.
Escaping to Maui sounded better by the second.
