Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Belinda used to intimidate me, but now all I have to do is remember her on her knees with her mouth open, waiting, and that unease fades. In fact, if she offered a repeat, I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to deny her. I already know I’d enjoy it, even if it’s meaningless.
Her nostrils flare as if she can sense my dirty thoughts. “Ronan, do not look at me like you want to—”
A knock on my door cuts off the end of what would likely have been a crass sentence.
Belinda remains silent, staring at me in challenge.
It dawns on me. This is my office. “Come in.”
A pint-sized, ginger-haired guy with a face full of freckles peeks in, his green eyes darting between Belinda and me before he clears his throat. “Hello, sir. Ms. Cartwright told me to come and introduce myself when you arrived. I’m Archie, your assistant.”
“Uh … Hi.” How old is this guy? It’s hard to tell. He could be twenty-one or thirty-five. And sir? Fuck, that is not happening. “Call me Ronan.”
He dips his head once. “I’ve already sent you the day’s TCIP report and the weeklies will be in your inbox by eleven.”
“Right.” I draw out the single word. TCIP? Weeklies? “Thanks.”
“I’ll get to scheduling meetings for you and the managers. What’s your window?” His thick, bushy eyebrows lift as he waits for my answer.
“My window …” For fuck’s sake. This guy is a ball of energy.
“Why don’t you and Ronan have a meeting after lunch today to go over his general expectations of you?” Belinda cuts in.
“Oh, right. One p.m. sound good?” he asks me.
“That will work perfectly,” Belinda answers, her smile thin-lipped. “He has a 2:00 p.m. already and I’ll introduce him to the managers myself.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks, sir. I mean … uh … Oh! Here, I almost forgot these.” He hands me a thick envelope. “The dealership dropped off your company car. It’s parked in one of the executive spaces.”
Executive spaces?
Archie disappears out the door.
I feel Belinda’s sharp gaze on me from behind those dark-rimmed glasses and I meet it head-on.
“Do you have any clue what your new position entails?” she blurts.
“Nope.” I’ve been waiting for her to call a spade on this bullshit situation. “But I’ll bet you’re one hell of a teacher.”
She grinds her teeth.
“Left up here,” Belinda orders, pointing at where the paved path forks.
I smoothly steer the golf cart in that direction. This, I can do. “Nice course.”
“It is. They’ve struggled to finish it in time.” Her tone is crisp. “Elias Brown designed it.”
“Is that name supposed to mean anything to me?” I’ve picked up a golf club exactly once in my life, fifteen years ago at a father-and-son tournament. I thought I’d die from boredom.
I feel her incredulous look in my peripherals. “He’s the best course architect in the world.”
“Of course he is.” Only the best for Henry. “You expecting a lot of golfers here?”
She snorts. “This is Florida, isn’t it?”
I purse my lips tight. Everything that comes out of my mouth proves how truly out of my depth I am. Henry’s gut is going to need a steady dose of antacids when he realizes that.
With an incoherent mumble and a shift in her seat, Belinda continues, “This location is meant to be a year-round retreat. The winter months are cooler here but ideal for golfers who prefer to play their sport while not sweating through their khakis. That, along with the luxury spa and heated pools, will draw the spouses. We see this as an adult resort mainly, given the cost. Surely, we’ll also attract small groups. Bridal parties and such.”
Mention of bridal parties makes me think of Tasha in Miami. I was this close to seeing her again because knowing me, I would have been too curious to stay away.
Also knowing me, I would have even bigger regrets by the end of the weekend.
“Is that part of this Elias Brown’s design?” I point to the puddles of water pooling on the ninth hole green. “Because I may not know much about golf, but I know that’s a drainage problem.” The course at the Wolf in Indianapolis had the same issue. We had to rip up the entire area to fix it. I’ll never forget how sore my back was after that ordeal.
Belinda’s brow wrinkles. “This construction crew has been disappointing, to say the least. Talk to Dorian.”
“How did he not pick up on this?” How has nobody noticed? There are people out here cutting grass daily.
“You can scold him when you deal with this issue. Keep going.” Belinda waves a hand forward.
We wind around the bend. Fluorescent red, orange, and pink squares catch my notice. “What is that? Up there.” I point ahead, past a chain-link fence to where handmade signs dangle off tree branches. I squint to read the words. “‘Mermaid Beach doesn’t want this.’ ‘You’re not welcome.’ ‘Take your money and go away.’” A longer one hangs nearby. “‘Wolf Hotel Billionaire Owner Questioned in Brother’s Death.’”