Atonement (The Partners Book 1), page 8
I step farther away from her and lean against the opposite wall, my arms folding over my chest. “I couldn’t care less about them. I just wanted you ready to work tomorrow.”
She scoffs. “Okay, Mr. Montford,” she emphasizes my name. “But it seemed like you were jealous.”
I snort. “I was far from jealous.”
“Then why did you suddenly appear when one of them touched me.”
I shrug. “I didn’t notice. I was merely paying attention to the time.”
The doors open to our floor and she rolls her eyes as she walks off. But not after I notice the flush in her cheeks and across her chest. I know she wanted me.
“Are you sure it wasn’t you who was jealous it wasn’t me touching you?”
She stops in the hall and glares at me. “Far from it.”
I laugh internally knowing that is far from the truth. “We need to leave by six in the morning.”
“Fine,” she says shortly.
“I need you to be on time.”
“Not a problem.”
“I have a meeting in the morning and I cannot—”
She turns to face me just as we reach her door. “I get it. I will be awake and packed.” She turns to her door and pulls her key out of her clutch and mutters asshole under her breath.
I spin her around before she can swipe her key card. “Did you just call me an asshole?”
She crosses her arms. “No.”
I step closer to her. “Or maybe it was cocky and rude.”
She looks up at me curiously.
“Or maybe a fucking prick?”
Her mouth opens slightly.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Wilder. There still may come a day when I press you against the glass of my office or fuck you on the deck of my yacht. Besides, you wouldn’t mind it, would you?”
She gasps when I say it. And I think she is piecing it all together.
I step away from her, a smirk on my face. “Six a.m.”
11
Cam
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
I say it to myself as I kick my heels off and storm the minibar.
He heard every word I said about him that first night on my balcony.
Which could only mean he is really spying on me and has my room bugged or he is in the penthouse above me. The latter much more plausible. Which means he has probably heard me talk a lot of shit.
I am so screwed.
Unless he wants to actually screw me. And there were moments it clearly seemed like he did.
Fuck. I can’t think about that either.
I open a mini bottle of vodka from the minibar and slam the thing down.
He was just trying to get under my skin.
And he did.
It’s been a week since our dinner in London and I have yet to see Bastian since the flight back to France. And I am not complaining at all. I seem to get a lot more done when he isn’t around breathing down my neck. Even his assistant hasn’t been around. I don’t know if it’s because I told him I knew he was babysitting me or if he actually needed Parker for whatever business he had back in Paris.
It’s given me time to work with the marketing team to adjust the branding of the company. And they seem to be on board. All but one of them never really liked the old campaigns. Selling sex rather than sexy. But I’ve seen the comments from the press. I know their opinion on Montford Hotels.
It’s sad really. This hotel is beautiful. The one in London was astounding. And the pictures I have seen from the other three properties around Europe and in the Mediterranean, all portray an image of luxury every person would die to stay in. But the campaigns and ads never portrayed the yearning that the general public should have.
And with the expansion set to be announced in just five weeks, we have a lot of work to do quickly. I’ve been working with Elyse, head of marketing, on deadlines. We both agree the new campaigns should launch two weeks before the announcement. It gives time to pique interest again in Montford Hotels, make the population curious, turn the heads back in our direction, especially the ones that turned away after the raid.
My team works intensely to tease the press on the new campaign while Elyse Morel’s team works diligently to book models and photographers for photo shoots.
“Are you sure he will approve of this?” Elyse asks me as we both slump into one of the couches overlooking the sea in the office.
I laugh. “Unlikely.”
Her eyes widen as I say it.
“But he tends to disagree with half the shit I say. I just make him agree.”
“You make him agree?”
I nod as I pour us each a well-deserved glass of wine after putting in fourteen hours today. “I just repeat myself over and over until he stops saying no.”
She looks at me with her mouth agape. “That man scares the shit out of me. His brother was totally different. Laid back, easygoing. Hell, he wasn’t here half the time. But I guess that makes it easier to believe all the things that happened.”
“Do you really believe Matías did all those things?” I ask curiously.
She looks around the room to make sure we are truly alone since I know we aren’t supposed to be talking about what happened. “No I don’t.”
I lean forward. “What do you think happened?”
She shakes her head as if she is battling within herself if she wants to talk about it. “I really shouldn’t be saying anything. Mr. Montford made us sign NDAs after Matías was arrested. If we didn’t sign them, we would be fired. And of course, if he finds us gossiping about the situation, he will fire us too.”
“I won’t say anything.”
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, then starts talking in a low whisper. “Matías was a party animal. He was doing drugs or drinking, sleeping with different women most of the time. Now don’t get me wrong, he was a great boss because he believed in the party lifestyle and we had a lot of freedom here. But he didn’t really run the place. I don’t even think he wanted to but just felt that he needed to prove his worth to his father and the Montford name.
“Frederick Davenport ran the company. He approved everything, handled all the things Matías let slip. He was who truly felt like the boss around here. He is young, just like Matías. Partied often with Matías. But he was smart, Cameron. Calculated. He knew everything that was going on long before anyone else did. I know that he would have secret meetings at some of the parties. I brushed them off as work, but what if they weren’t?”
“Who’s Frederick Davenport?” I ask, the name sounding familiar.
“The CFO.”
I sip my wine and think about all the things I read about the incident and the arrests. “He wasn’t arrested.”
Elyse nods her head.
“But Bastian fired him?”
She nods again. “Mr. Mont—Bastian, never trusted him after some personal thing that happened between the two of them. Bastian knew Frederick ran the company more so than his brother, so he fired him. I can only guess on suspicion of involvement.”
I nod. “Makes sense.”
“Please don’t tell anyone I told you these things. I don’t want to lose my job. I actually like working here. Even though Bastian is frightening. He seems to take care of his employees and the business well.”
I nod as she changes the subject, telling me about her life in the south of France and the small village she grew up in near Bordeaux.
I listen to her as I watch the waves hit the rocky shoreline. But my mind wanders to Bastian and the secrets he and his family are hiding.
I yawn and stretch as I sit down at my desk. I swear I’ve put in more time this week than the first week I was here but I knew this job wasn’t going to be easy. I sip on my iced coffee and rub my temples, ready to battle the next set of stories I need to clear from the press.
I am in the middle of typing an email when my cell rings. I hit the ignore button, as I want to leave at a decent hour tonight. I am exhausted, my feet hurt from running around all day, and I really just want to drink a martini and sit in my bathtub that looks out over the sea.
My phone goes off again and I choose to ignore it. I can only guess it’s my mother calling since I sent a not-so-nice response to one of her emails earlier. I practically told her to fuck off when she told me to come home for a charity event and she already had a date lined up for me.
This time my office phone rings and I finally decide to answer it.
“What is this email I got from Mrs. Morel regarding a marketing plan that you said I would approve?” Bastian growls into the phone.
Ugh, I do not want to deal with you today.
“Ms. Wilder, have you forgotten what I said about firing you?”
Shit, did I say those words out loud.
“Now I suggest you do deal with me and start speaking.”
Well, that answers that. “Your marketing and social media strategy need to change, Mr. Montford.”
“And you think you have the authority to approve it?”
“No. But I told Elyse I would go over it with you. I have just been a little busy covering your brother’s ass so I haven’t had time to send you an email to find time to discuss it.”
“The image of the hotel needs to change, not the entire marketing strategy.”
I lean back in my chair and sigh. “It’s not a total change of the strategy, really just the message the brand has coming across. I did mention it at the dinner you took me to. The board seemed thrilled with the idea.”
“Well, it must not have thrilled me since I don’t remember.”
I groan into the phone. “Your brand is all wrong. You need to stop selling sex and start selling sexy.”
“It’s not my brand, it was my brother’s.”
I hold back the growl I am ready to release because I am seriously too tired to deal with his attitude. “Well since your brother is what should we say? Incapacitated. It’s now your brand and I have to say that selling sex is not what’s going to sell hotel rooms. There is too much bad press saying Montford Hotels are a place for the rich and famous to bring their prostitutes and one-night stands. The press is calling this place cheap, sexist. If you want to clear the hotel’s image, your brother’s image…” I pause because I know he will hate my next words. “Your image. You need to adjust the brand.”
“My image isn’t tarnished, Ms. Wilder.”
“Not yet.”
He growls into the phone. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
I think back to the few articles that were brought to my attention today. Articles tearing down Bastian’s character, blaming him for his brother’s indiscretions, holding his past against him, a past I don’t know much about. But I don’t want to put that burden on him. I’ve seen the man behind the mask a few times and I know he keeps it firmly in place for a reason. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
He sighs into the phone but doesn’t say a word.
I go back to the original subject at hand. “Montford Hotels needs to be sexy, not sexist. A dream. A desire. Something any person can try to attain.”
“So you are telling me you want it to be affordable luxury?”
I shake my head, even though I know he can’t see it. “Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Montford, but there is a difference between affordable luxury and over-the-top sexual appeal.”
“This is not a cheap hotel brand.”
I nearly laugh into the phone at his words. “I am all aware of that, Mr. Montford. I’m not saying that your hotel is cheap but it’s coming off as cheap. Sexist. The press is turning the image on you so quickly it’s hard to keep up. So turn it back around on them. Make them bite their tongue when they see the brand is not what they think.”
He clears his throat and I nearly jump at his next words. “Go on.”
“I know that you think when I say affordable luxury you think I’m saying things are cheap but that’s not what I mean. I want to appeal to the masses. Make them think that what they’re paying for is affordable. It doesn’t need to be affordable, but in their mind it is. The experience, the chance to be a part of something luxurious, rich, so nearly attainable they are willing to fork over the money if it’s just for a few nights of opulence.”
He chuckles into the phone. “I think you should have gone into marketing, Ms. Wilder.”
I smile, actually smile, because I know I hooked him. “What would be the fun in that? I much prefer the push and pull of public relations.”
“I will send a response to Mrs. Morel.”
“And what might that be?”
“I need a more detailed plan.”
“Fair enough.” I nod as I look out over the pool. The few guests that didn’t cancel their reservations after the scandal. I imagine what this place would look like completely booked. An oasis along the Cote d’Azur. “I promise this will work. This will make—”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Bastian growls into the phone.
He hangs up without another word and I turn back toward my desk to get to work. My mood even worse after Bastian’s back and forth personality changes.
I don’t get far when a knock lands on my door. “Come in,” I say without looking, assuming it’s Elyse after she got the email response from Bastian.
“The man really works you to the bone.”
I startle at the sound of a deep voice and am surprised when I see Kilian Bancroft standing in my office. I clear my throat and plaster a smile on my face. “He’s not really in charge of me so it’s really just my work ethic.”
“Strong work ethic is important.”
I nod and raise my eyebrow at him. “Can I help you with something?”
I don’t miss how his eyes take me in, the way they roam my body like I might be able to help him with something on an entirely different level.
He steps toward my desk and sits in a chair across from me. “I was just looking for the boss man himself. Is he around?”
I lean back in my chair and study the man. The way he owns the room much like Bastian but something about him sends warning bells off in my head. He has a sense of danger about him. “He isn’t here.”
“Strange. The bastard told me he had a meeting. Said he would be back around now.”
I don’t know much about the man in front of me. I barely inferred that the two are friends but from the way he referred to him, I am guessing they are much closer than Bastian let on. “The last I heard from his assistant is that they would be back in Saint Tropez tomorrow.”
Kilian rubs his thumb and forefinger along his smooth chin. “I see. Huh. Silly me, I must have got the dates wrong.”
I look into his green eyes and know he is not a man to mess up dates. Meaning I am sure he is here for another reason. And from the few words I overheard him tell Bastian last time he was here, I can only guess he is here for me.
“Honest mistake,” I answer.
“So are you just going to stay here working late into all hours of the evening? It’s a beautiful night out. Shame to waste it sitting in an office.”
I laugh to myself. I was right about him. He is here for me. “I have a lot to do.”
“You look tired.”
I guffaw. “For someone who just hinted at finding a way to get me away from this desk it’s not smart to start with insults.”
A sly grin cuts across his face. “That was not my intention at all, Ms. Wilder. I was merely stating a fact. And you know the cure for looking tired. A night out on the town.”
I raise a brow at him. “Is that so?”
He stands up and leans over my desk. “I think you know it is.”
I can’t help but flirt with the man. He’s a natural at it and I am too. I lean forward on my elbows and meet his gaze, my chin resting on my hands. “Mr. Montford will be very unhappy if I don’t finish my work.”
“I thought you said you didn’t work for him.”
“Touché.”
He grins at me, and I can’t help but match his smile. He stands up and offers me his hand. I oblige and walk around the desk, grabbing my bag as I do.
We walk out into the main office area and I notice everyone has left for the day. I never even paid attention to the time. “So Mr. Bancroft, where are you going to take me on such a fine evening?”
His arm slips around my waist. “Please, call me Kilian, Ms. Wilder.”
I look up at the sparkle in his eyes knowing good and well this man is trouble. “Then call me Cam, Kilian.”
He throws his head back in laughter as he squeezes my hip.
Good thing I like trouble.
“There is no way Bastian pulled a prank like that in secondary school,” I shout at Kilian as we enjoy cocktails on a patio at a hole-in-the-wall café in the livelihood of Saint Tropez. Where I thought he would take me to some ritzy-ass place full of bouncers and celebrities, we sit on metal chairs, drinking cheap liquor, and telling stories as we watch revelers walk down the road.
“I shit you not. The lad used to be a total prankster back in the day.”
I snort as I think about the story of Bastian lighting a firecracker under one of his teacher’s skirts while she was eating outside. I just cannot picture it.
“The bloke was a true ass until he graduated from university. Pretty much the day his dad put him to work he decided to be more serious. Focus on business. I rarely see him come out of his element. Maybe only when he’s in… sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about him now. Let’s go back to the old stories.”
I don’t push Kilian because I know he’s right. The man who works so hard to keep his past hidden. Instead, we talk more about Kilian and Bastian’s youth. The two grew up in the rich neighborhoods of London, attended private school together through year thirteen, and then both attended university together. They both come from wealth. Kilian’s family started out in the shipping industry in Ireland before moving to England in the early 1900s and expanding the business into investments and eventually hedge funds.
Kilian tells me another story from university about Bastian’s inability to convince a girl to go out with him. I want to meet this version of Bastian. The carefree man, one who seemed to smile all the time, one who had fun. Because the version I know, I don’t think knows the definition of fun.
