Last Resort: S.I.N. Series Read online

  “Good. I’m glad.” I force a smile that I’m more than certain doesn’t wash the concern from my eyes. He doesn’t see it though because he’s too busy staring at the contract on the table in front of him that I’m slowly pulling away from him and toward me.

  “What are you doing?” he asks as he reaches out and puts a hand on the bound stack of papers, preventing me from taking it.

  “We agreed not to accept their offer, did we not? You wanted to make a show of bringing the paper contract, sliding it across the table unsigned as a rejection. You said it was better this way,” I explain. I don’t know why we couldn’t have done this in an email, but the man is as old-fashioned as old-fashioned can be. He’d make every deal a handshake if he could.

  “Why would we do that when I want to sign the offer? I want to buy the property.”

  “Dad,” I groan in frustration, more than pissed that I was left to babysit this dinner tonight. Technically he can cast the final vote as the majority shareholder so why the hell am I here anyway? You have to protect Dad, Callahan. Protect him from making unsound business decisions. We’re counting on you. Ford’s words were not subtle.

  “Do you know that was where your mom and I took our honeymoon?”

  “No, it wasn’t. You went to—”

  “I was there, I should know,” he snaps in a way I haven’t heard before. “I know I’m losing my mind, Callahan, but don’t you dare tell me I don’t know or remember this. It was your mother’s choice, her pick, and I told her someday I was going to buy a patch of land there and make it everything she wanted. I failed her. I didn’t do it when she was alive, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make amends now. That doesn’t mean I can’t still do it. Today is that day, son.” He gets a soft, faraway look in his eyes and smiles. “Do you know I can still picture her standing on the beach with a flower in her hair, smiling at me, and posing for the camera?”

  I study him, unsure what to say and uncertain if I remember correctly what had been said to me in the past.

  What the fuck do I say?

  How do I convince him otherwise when he seems so adamant he’s right?

  “Dad. We need to discuss your change of mind with—”

  He reaches out and grips my forearm. “Give me this, son. Please. The company, the business, is what is helping to keep my mind clear. And I need to know while I still can remember that I fulfilled my promise to her.” He squeezes. “No one else will understand this but you. Screw the numbers and projections and spreadsheets. Sometimes you have to go with your gut and your word.”

  His words hit hard. They’re words my brothers won’t understand or respect. Just one more reason for them to treat me like shit.

  But I’ll explain to them.

  I’ll make them understand what happened. Dad’s reasoning.

  “I’m all for going with your gut, but I’m certain we can hold out and negotiate a lower price to make up for the expense it will take to turn the resort into a Sharpe property.”

  “I’m dying, Callahan. I don’t want to hold out. I want you to grant me this one, last wish. Of any of my three sons, you’d be the one to understand that while numbers don’t lie, they aren’t everything either.” His eyes turn misty. “Please, son. Give me your blessing on this and grant me this one last thing.”

  Shit. That’s the truth I don’t want to face. I’d give anything to pretend I didn’t hear them. Anything to make him live forever.

  Anything to make him feel like he did right by his one true love.

  “Okay.” I whisper the word and hate the dread that eats at me.

  We’re a financially sound company that if the deal is shitty, we can sell and move on. We’ve done it before; we’ll do it again. It’s the nature of the beast.

  “Okay?” His smile is the brightest and his eyes the clearest they’ve been in forever.

  “Yes. Fine.” But it’s not. It’s so not.

  “Thank you. You’re giving me the greatest gift anyone has ever bestowed upon me besides your mother giving me you three.” He gives a soft smile. “I can’t wait to tell her when I see her.”

  Tears burn my eyes and I hate that I feel like this is more than just a thank you. That this is a goodbye of some sort. I shake the thought and blame it on the discord eating at me.

  The same discord that eats at me as I head toward the bar to tell the Diamantes we’re ready to continue the meeting. This isn’t the right financial decision. It’s one made with the heart and not the head, but how do I say no to the man who has been the heart of this family for over thirty years? The one who has lifted me up even when I didn’t deserve it? The one who has made all the sacrifices so that I can be sitting here at Eleven Madison Park, one of the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan, without batting an eye about the cost of the ensuing meal.

  There is going to be hell to pay for this, for allowing this to happen, but . . . I can’t wait to tell her when I see her.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  “Mr. Diamante, sir,” I say when I see him standing at the bar with a drink in hand. “Sorry for the delay, but we’re ready to proceed.”

  “Proceed?” he asks. “Because I feel like you’ve been toying with me. I’m a busy man who doesn’t like to be led on. I never intended to sell Ocean’s Edge until your father pursued me doggedly. This isn’t a must-sell for me, Callahan. In fact it’s far from it. But I like your dad. I don’t understand him, but I like him. So don’t invite me to fly here and have a discussion and then make me wait. I’ve pulled deals from a table for less than that.”

  And with that, Gil Diamante walks past me, toward the table.

  “Can I get you something, Mr. Sharpe?” Sam, the usual bartender, asks.

  I need something strong to wash the bad taste from my mouth. “Yes. Please. A shot of your choice.” I glance around. “I’m going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The bathroom is empty when I enter it and just as I unzip my fly, the door opens at my back.

  And I hear the click of heels.

  When I turn to look, Gia Diamante is standing there with a smirk and desire firing in her eyes.

  I stuff my cock back in my slacks and turn to face her as I zip up, although the look on her face says she’d prefer I keep it out.

  “I’m assuming you know you’re in the wrong bathroom,” I say, taking a step toward the sink to wash my hands.

  “Just like I assume you know where I’m staying this evening.” She takes a step closer. “Once the deal is signed, I would love to show you . . . my appreciation for your assistance in making your dad accept the deal.”

  “Your appreciation, huh?”

  Her siren’s smile is seductive. Her fingernail that scrapes up the front of my cloth-clad cock even more so. “I have a lot of appreciation,” she whispers.

  “So this is how the Diamantes close deals?” If it is, maybe I should be more involved in closing them.

  Her laugh is throaty as she leans in and tugs on my earlobe with her teeth causing my balls to draw up. “I’ll let you know once it’s closed,” she whispers before she turns on her heel and leaves the bathroom.

  I have to wait a second for my hard-on to abate before I leave the bathroom. When I do, Sam is sliding my shot across the bar with a smirk.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Callahan

  “Some people not happy, man,” Keone says in his distinct island accent as he pours a draft beer.

  “Why’s that?” I ask.

  “Just hearing rumblings.”

  “About?” I ask, already dreading this conversation and it hasn’t even really started.

  “They giving raises over at some of the other resorts.”

  “But we offer better medical benefits.”

  “That only matters, man, if they sick. It doesn’t help pay the rent though.” He holds up a finger and walks to the other end of the bar to take an order.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  This is the last fucking thing we need here. I’d like to think we’re slowly getting shit in order. Slowly. Brady is a little kooky, but the man is a godsend when it comes to wrangling all the things Sutton is implementing while managing the staff at the same time.

  It allows me to immerse myself in the bullshit numbers so I can get this over and done with. So I can walk the fuck away. From the resort and the family business.

  There’s a grass shack on a beach somewhere that’s calling my name. One where cell service is scant, the surf is strong, and the days stretch forever.

  I take another sip of beer and wonder what my dad would think in this situation. My brothers forcing me to be here. Their insistence that I physically manage instead of manage from afar like they do.

  Don’t get your hands dirty, Callahan. That’s what you hire people for. You have to be felt but not seen, heard without having to scream, strong but not be an asshole.

  Well, I’ve definitely failed that last part, haven’t I?

  And the irony that Sutton threw in my face that I don’t get my hands dirty while my dad used to tell me not to isn’t lost on me.

  But maybe she’s right. Maybe being made to feel like an idiot over not knowing we’d implemented ecotourism as a part of our resort portfolio is a prime example of why I don’t belong here in the first place.

  And yet here I am. Trying to give life to something our father so desperately wanted. The funny thing is I thought it would hurt more being here. That being at a place he was so hell-bent on purchasing would make me sad.

  It’s done just the opposite.

  Sure I want the fuck out of here as soon as my time here, my penance, has been served, but it’s not so bad on the whole.

  And doesn’t that have ever
ything to do with Sutton?

  Christ.

  When have I ever let a woman lead me around by the balls without at least a little squeeze now and then?

  Never.

  Fucking never.

  And yet when I leave the bar, she’s still on my mind. She’s so much easier to focus on than the constant texts from Ledger and Ford demanding status reports and updates.

  If they want to really know, they’ll show up and find out the status themselves. They’ll probably dismantle every single thing we’ve done just to say I’ve done it wrong in the process.

  Spite is a mean, nasty bitch and they have it in fucking spades.

  I walk for a bit. Down paths I’ve walked a hundred times before, but this time without my head buried in my phone.

  Ocean’s Edge is beautiful. It’s the perfect location, the right setup, let’s just hope what Sutton and I are doing is enough.

  But enough for what? To appease my brothers? To really flip this around? To feel like I truly fulfilled the promise to my dad? To . . . what? Now that I’ve been forced here, what exactly do I want out of this other than it being my last resort?

  A couple chases each other down the beach and shrieks. I watch their silhouettes against the moonlit sky and smile. Did my mom and dad really dig their toes in the sand here? Did they play in the water and fall deeper in love with this place as their backdrop?

  I have no clue, but I’m pretending they did. I’m pretending that my dad had a moment of clarity, of remembering this place, and that my decision to let him buy it was the right one. That just like the dementia stole his mind from us, it didn’t also steal that one last moment that I thought was real.

  The lights are on in the villa when I get home. Home? That’s what this is to me now? Maybe that’s what it feels like. Coming home to her. Knowing she’s actually there for once. Maybe waiting for me.

  Maybe wanting me.

  I know she’s purposely made herself scarce when I’m here. She even jokes around the office about her absence to try and prevent the inevitable chatter that she’s sleeping with her boss.

  I’m wishing that chatter was correct right about now.

  I move toward her room where the door is open and the light is on. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed in a tank top and shorts, her hair wet, her skin still pink from a hot shower. She has a pencil between her teeth as she types away at something on her laptop.

  Jesus. When is she not stunning?

  “Honey, I’m home,” I say.

  Her eyes flash up to me and a soft smile adds warmth to them. “Hello, dear. How was your day?” she asks as she takes the pencil from her mouth and sets it down on the nightstand.

  “The usual. Don’t you ever stop working?” I ask as I walk into her room and fall face first onto her bed.

  “We have a lot to do in a short amount of time,” she says as I turn my face and look at her. Of course, right in front of me is her bare thigh as a temptation of what I can’t touch. “I don’t have any time to waste. Besides you’re not paying me to rest on my laurels.”

  Turning on my side, I prop my head up on my elbow. “No, but I’m also not working you to the bone.” I push her laptop with my finger. “We’ve been here a month, and I don’t know anything about you outside of work stuff.”

  “That’s a lie,” she says wryly, but she closes her laptop and moves it to the table beside her. “You know what kind of panties I wear.” She quirks a brow, thinking she’s being witty but when I just continue to stare at her, she sighs. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “Where are you from? Where are you going? Something in between,” I say.

  “That’s an awful lot of ‘personal’ for a man who doesn’t like to mix with his employees,” she says but there is a playful quality to her voice that says she doesn’t mind. I hadn’t thought when I walked in here that I’d be asking her these questions either, but it would be a lie if I said I wasn’t intrigued by her. How did she become so . . . talented? Intuitive?

  And she’s not wrong. I rarely get invested in employees . . . or women I want to fuck.

  “You’re teaching me to change my ways.” I smile. “What’s in it for you is a much nicer Callahan Sharpe.”

  “Too late. I already know that,” she whispers as she reaches out and runs her fingernails through my hair and over my scalp. I close my eyes and lean into her touch.

  “You’re going to put me to sleep.”

  “Either that will or information about me will because I’m not a very interesting person.”

  I snort. “I doubt that.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I want to know, anyway.”

  “Okay,” she murmurs as her fingers continue to work their magic. “I was born in a small town in Upstate New York. Nothing remarkable about my childhood other than I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen so I could escape the everyday fighting in my house. My parents were alcoholics who cared more about the next bottle than worrying about making sure their daughter was prepared for life.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She offers a soft smile that says please don’t pity me. “I had some money I’d received in inheritance after my grandmother died—she was the glue of the family and I knew with her gone, things would only get worse. So I took that money and I left. Found my way to Brooklyn where I roomed with three other college students. Went to college and got my degree while I was working as a gofer for Resort Transition Consultants. I slowly worked my way to the front desk, then to an associate, then a junior account manager, and on and on until . . . this.”

  “I’m impressed,” I say with all sincerity because in my world, people don’t work their way up. They are born into it. Handed it. But Sutton is so very different. “Truly. That explains why you know the ins and outs of every facet. And your family?”

  She shrugs. “Is it bad if I say that they are my parents and I care for them as my parents, but them not being in my life is the best thing that I’ve been able to do for myself?”

  I nod, but don’t understand in the least. Yes, my brothers are currently being assholes to me, but growing up we were always united as a family. Even if it wasn’t easy trying to live up to the Sharpe name, we had each other.

  Maybe that’s why what they’re doing now hurts so much. Dad is gone. Shouldn’t we be unifying instead of pulling apart?

  Is that why I’m here instead of at my grass shack? To honor our father, but also to maybe win back some of what we were? To get my best friends back?

  I sigh softly and focus on the feeling of her fingers scratching my scalp. It’s easier to not think about it. Easier to want and wish than to worry and wonder.

  “What else did you ask?” she asks as I look over to her where she’s twisting her lips and looking down at me. “Where am I going? At some point, when I get enough experience, I’d like to branch out and start my own firm. I think there’s something to be said about the risk and reward of finding clients and taking on their projects for myself.”

  “I can understand that.” I reach out and draw a lazy finger up and down the line of her thigh. “Tell me about your ex.”

  “My ex?”

  “Yes. He’s the reason we met after all, right?” I smile and grab a pillow to pull under my head. It smells like her shampoo. “Shouldn’t I know about the schmuck who didn’t do a good enough job to keep you?”

  Her eyes soften as she chews the inside of her cheek. “Can I say I was lonely and naïve and did everything wrong and leave it at that?”

  “I doubt that.”

  “When no one has taught you how to love, Callahan, you take the first sign of affection sent your way and cling to it even when it’s not healthy.” Her eyes dip and study her fingers moving through my hair. Her shame is written all over her face, and it guts me to see it. “I’m not proud of it, of staying with him for as long as I did when he preferred me to fail rather than flourish for his own ego’s sake. But I’m proud of myself for walking away from it. It didn’t hurt this opportunity came along at the perfect time to do just that.”

  I hate that my gut twists at the thought of another man touching her. Of another man hurting her. “And sometimes I think things happen at the right time just when we need it most.”

  What the hell does that mean, Cal? You’re not talking about her, right?