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

Fucking hell.

  “You’ve never had any discretion in the past so why start now, right?” Ford chimes in.

  “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Ford.” I fire a warning shot across the bow.

  “Let’s hope whoever you fucked last night was enough to satisfy you so you keep your hands off Sutton,” he says, stare unwavering, warning ignored.

  “What are you, my keeper now?”

  “No,” Ledger says. “Technically, we’re your bosses.”

  My fist clenches and teeth grit. Power—or the perceived notion of power—sure has made my brothers absolute assholes.

  No wonder I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.

  “Get off it, Ledger. Last I checked, we’re all equal partners, so no, you’re not my boss. Furthermore, I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions about who he sleeps with.”

  “And we’re a multi-billion-dollar corporation that doesn’t exactly want to get screwed by those decisions.” His smile is smarmy and patronizing, and I’d give anything to wipe it from his lips. “Oh wait. My bad,” he mocks. “We already have.”

  “What I did or didn’t do last night is none of your goddamn business—”

  “Sweet, angelic Callahan still thinks he can do no wrong,” Ford says.

  “More like the fuck-up who thinks he can do no wrong,” Ledger says.

  I stare at my brothers and hate the tightness in my chest. The gloves are off.

  How can you love two people and hate them just as much?

  How did we get here? How did so much change in six months? How did . . . “Fuck off, Ledger. The constant do-gooder, wanna-be-daddy thing you’ve got going gets old.”

  “And the pretty party boy routine does too,” he deadpans. “Normalizing the morning hangover and trying to remember the name of the woman you’re rolling out of bed beside has to be tiresome.”

  My smile is slow and menacing when I look at him and speak. “It’s a hell of a lot better than learning how to adjust the stick up my ass so I can walk, although it seems you’ve mastered that just fine.”

  “Of course. Responsibility and dedication are what you’d consider a stick up my ass.” He matches my smile and just stares at me with a cool, even temper.

  One much like my father had.

  And the sight of it hurts.

  I knew this would happen. This fight. This confrontation. The manifestation of a jealousy I never created nor could control.

  But here we are, gloving up for a fight that has been brewing for months.

  Anticipation of it is what led me to the club last night and the Johnnie Walkers at the bar.

  Now there is nowhere to run. No woman to get lost in. No alcohol to numb its ugliness.

  They want a fight? I’ll give it to them.

  I shrug nonchalantly. “We all grieve in different ways.”

  “Is that what you call this?” Ledger snorts, and all I can do short of walking out of here is grit my teeth. I shake my head and try to fight the anger mixed with pain raging through me. “Because I call it doing exactly what you’ve always done—fucking off. The difference? Dad’s no longer here to protect you from the consequences.”

  “Is that why I was told I had to be here, or else? So you can put me in my place and assert some kind of power over me?” I lift a middle finger at them.

  “You were told to be here because it’s time for you to do your goddamn job.”

  “According to you, my job is fucking random women and sullying the Sharpe name. Is that what we’re aiming for here? Because if that’s the case, I’m all in.”

  “Typical.” He shakes his head, and I swear to God it’s déjà vu. He could be our father standing there with the high demands and lack of empathy for others. But there will be no phone call later telling me he understands and still loves me. Like Dad did. There will simply be more of the empty silence edged in resentment. God, I miss him.

  “When did you start becoming our father?”

  “When he died and you never stepped up to the plate to fulfill your duties.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” I say, hands out to my sides, the disappointment I was trying to drink away last night is now staring me down through my brothers’ eyes.

  “Ah. Yes,” Ledger says. “It’s amazing how you’ll drag your ass in here when threatened with a no-confidence vote from the board.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  I shove up out of my chair and force myself to walk to the windows instead of throw the punch I so desperately want to throw. A rage I never had before our dad died eats at me in a way I can’t explain.

  They want to vote me out?

  My brothers, my blood, want me gone?

  Hurt suffocates me, but I shove it behind a mask of zero fucks. Isn’t that what I’ve always done? Move, dodge, weave, when shit gets too real?

  Especially with my dad. Even with my brothers.

  “Actually, I didn’t hear you.” My fists clench and my mind buzzes. “You want the board to vote me out?”

  “You made your bed, brother. It’s up to you if you want to lie in it or prove you deserve the position.”

  “So that’s what this is all about, then?” I give a disbelieving shake of my head. “All that power is going to your head, Ledger.”

  “Maybe if you were around more, you’d know what the actual fuck was going on,” Ledger states.

  “Hey, Ledge?” I lean forward, lower my voice, and taunt him. “Sounds to me like you’re the one who needs to use the suite. To get fucked. Maybe if you blow off some steam, dominate in the bedroom a little, it’ll ease your need to—”

  “This isn’t a joke,” he bellows, slamming his hand on the table.

  “And neither is you threatening to kick me out of a company my goddamn name is on.”

  “Our name, Callahan. Not just yours.” Ford glances over to Ledger and then back to me. “We’ve been busting our asses for the past six months trying to keep all the plates spinning and fill the void Dad left. And you? You’ve been nowhere to be found. You walked away from jobs half done, from deals half made. You fucking vanished to go have a pity party. Well guess what? He was our dad too, but we didn’t get to leave. We didn’t get to walk away from the responsibility that is paying your paycheck. So you’re goddamn right we’re pissed. You sit on your ass, collecting the same salary we do. We’re sick of it. You’re either part of this company and pulling your weight or you’re out.”

  I hate that they have a valid point. I did leave. But . . . I also hate their logic. And what it means.

  “So, pulling my weight to you means sending me to the failing resort and expecting me to turn it around? Ignoring that it’s a shitty economy and that the resort needs a major overhaul?” Fuck. “You’re setting me up to fail.” How did we get to this point?

  “Isn’t that the same thing you did to us?” Ford asks. “Set us up to fail when you walked away?”

  Motherfucker.

  I stare at my brothers and all I see is my dad. And feel the brutality of his absence.

  “You backed him on taking this deal when we opposed it,” Ledger says.

  “The majority owner of this company at the time wanted to buy the property, and I encouraged him to do what he wanted.”

  “The majority owner—Dad—was old with the beginning stages of dementia. The owner was trying to screw him. I saw it. Ford saw it. Christ, our lawyers saw it. But you were so goddamn occupied with trying to close the deal so you could fuck the owner’s daughter that you didn’t care.” Another fist on the table and Ledger steps into me so that we are chest to chest. “You were supposed to protect him, Callahan. Protect us. Protect the fucking company. But you didn’t. Now we have a resort that closed escrow a month after Dad died and it’s been failing ever since. So yes, you’re goddamn right this is your fault.”

  They weren’t there.

  They don’t know.

  And even when I’ve tried to explain it to them, they don’t understand.

  “Always thinking the worst of me. Right, Ledge?”

  “As of late? Yes.” He nods. His eyes are pained, upset about what has transpired, but not regretful. “But we’re not Dad, Cal. We love you, but we’re not blinded by your bullshit. We won’t look the other way and make excuses for you.”

  I move to the wall of windows, hands shoved in my pockets, and stare at the nameless, faceless people below and wish I were one of them right now.

  They want me to fail. To kick me out.

  Isn’t this what I wanted? To be free from the burden of being a Sharpe? To pick a dot on a map and go there and explore? Hell, I don’t need the money—none of us do—as our accounts are large enough to live ten lavish lives on . . . so tell them to fuck off, Cal. Tell them you win. Tell them . . .

  I can’t.

  This was our dad’s. He built it from the ground up and as much as world domination isn’t in my blood like it is in theirs, I can’t walk away just yet.

  This is the only piece of him I have left. How dare they use it as an ultimatum?

  I’m damned if I do—flip the resort and be miserable in the process. And I’m damned if I don’t—fail at turning it around and lose all that I’ve known. My brothers aren’t going to change from self-righteous assholes, even if I stay for this fight.

  “You wanted me back. In person. Hands-on. You’ve got me back.” I look at both of them as I try to figure out how this happened to us. How our dad’s death six months ago caused this huge divide. “I’ll go down there. I’ll see what the issue is. Then again, maybe I won’t. But you’ll have someone there with the Sharpe name so you can rest easier at night.” I emit a sarcastic chuckle, take a grape off the fruit platter in the middle of the table, and pop it in my mouth.
“Be careful what you wish for.”

  I make my way toward the doors, toward freedom, but his words stop me dead in my tracks.

  “And here we thought you’d want to step up, that you’d want to honor Dad’s memory, by making the last thing he bought with your blessing, thrive.” Ledger tsks. “Clearly you don’t fucking care.”

  I don’t turn around. Can’t. It hurts just looking at them. At seeing the bits and pieces of my father in them. The parts I never fucking got.

  Maybe that’s why I haven’t been around.

  Maybe that’s why it’s better to get that adrenaline rush than to waste my days in a goddamn suit and office with the one-hundred-eighty-degree view of Manhattan.

  “I’ll forgive you for saying that. Just this once.” It’s all I say before I storm out of the office.

  Fuck it.

  Fuck them.

  Fuck my dad for dying.

  I’ll go to the Virgin Islands. I’ll go because they think I won’t. I’ll figure out what the fuck is wrong with Ocean’s Edge and make it better solely in memory of Maxton Sharpe. And when I’m done, I’ll walk away from this fucking company and live the life my dad never got to because he was so busy working.

  I refuse to allow Sharpe International to own me.

  I refuse to allow anyone to own me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sutton

  “It’s paradise, Lizzy. Absolute paradise disguised in dated décor that most definitely has to go and staff who need a pick-me-up in the friendly department.”

  “That’s what my girl is there for,” she shouts into the phone. “To kick ass, take names, and make that bitch profitable!”

  Everybody needs a friend like Lizzy. The truth teller when you don’t want to hear it and your biggest cheerleader when you need it even more. And the woman who stands guard at your apartment, looking to see if your ex comes home while you pack all of the clothing you need as quickly as possible.

  “That’s the plan,” I say as I look around. Palm trees sway in the breeze and a steel drum can be heard playing somewhere in the distance. The crystal-clear ocean water and white sand beach is laid out in front of me in all its glory.

  Beaches definitely don’t look like this in New York.

  Neither do resorts.

  Where Manhattan is all sleek high-rises, miles of concrete, and a fast-paced energy, Ocean’s Edge is exactly the opposite. The white clapboard buildings, while weathered and worn, sprawl across lush grounds where tropical plants and vibrant flowers dot every walkway and corner. The vibe is laid-back and serene.

  Even in the short time I’ve wandered about, I can see why the Sharpe brothers bought this place. It’s dog-eared and dated but the potential to make this a high-end concept is endless.

  “So tell me about your room? Is it overlooking the water? Does it have a bird’s-eye view of some hot, sexy gardener who refuses to wear a shirt because it’s so hot, and who offers to trim your bush for free?”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “No, I’m stuck in New York while you’re about to live your best life in paradise.” She laughs. “So? Your room?”

  “It’s incredible.” I sigh. “It’s on the backside of the property—staff quarters, I assume—so no ocean views because those are reserved for the guests, but it’s perfect in every other way. Open windows with ocean breezes and the sound of the palm trees rustling. It’s perfect.”

  “Sounds heavenly, but what exactly does staff quarters mean? You’re sharing a room with someone you don’t know? That could put a damper on the abundance of sex you’re going to have.”

  “Yes. That was my exact thought.” I snort. “It’s more like I have my own bed and bathroom and it opens into a common area with a kitchenette that I share with whoever occupies the other suite. Kind of like a two-bedroom apartment.”

  “And so, who occupies the other suite?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t even have time to look because I was delayed getting my rental car. I literally dropped off my stuff and headed out to my first meeting.”

  “And that went well?”

  “It didn’t happen at all because it was rescheduled for later tonight. Can’t say I complained though because it gave me some time to sit back and enjoy this place before I jump in feet first tomorrow.”

  “You? Sit back and relax? Are you feeling okay?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I currently have a rum punch in my hand—with a paper umbrella in it, I might add—and my toes are in the sand.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed. Like really impressed.”

  “I’m trying,” I say, my voice softening as I lift my face to the sun, close my eyes, and let it warm my cheeks.

  “I know you are. Dare I ask if you’ve heard anything from Clint yet to dampen this new place you’re in?”

  I emit a resigned chuckle. “Of course I have, but it hasn’t changed my mind. He texted to see if I’d pick up his blue and yellow tie from the cleaners for him as well as a reminder to make sure I have the black dress with the cut-out neckline ready for dinner with his boss.”

  “So he’s still in denial then.”

  “I don’t think it’s denial. It’s more . . . self-righteousness? Arrogance? I don’t even know what to call it, but he’s in for a rude awakening when I’m not there for dinner with his boss.”

  “You promise?” Lizzy asks cautiously.

  “Did you forget I’m hundreds of miles away now? It’s over, Lizzy. Like over, over. I’m not going back, and I don’t have any regrets other than the time I’ve wasted. I think I mistook duty for love and that’s on me.”

  She lets her silence be her no-judgment answer, and for that I’m more than grateful.

  Clint thinks I’ll be going back because I can’t live without him.

  He’s wrong. Dead wrong.

  And the night of our breakup, the one-night stand that awakened all of my senses and the days following where I’ve thrown myself into the details of this project without pause, proved just how wrong he was.

  Besides, ending a two-year relationship should entail some sadness and grief, not relief and regret.

  I think that says enough in and of itself.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she murmurs, causing my carefree smile to widen.

  “This is one hundred percent what I need right now. Some time away. A new job to focus on. A new experience to enjoy. The—”

  “The triplet you want to fuck again.”

  “I—uh—”

  “Cat got your tongue? Because you know I’m right.”

  “More like cat’s got my tongue because sometimes the things you say are shocking.”

  “Having to work with a man who might or might not be the man who fucked your brains out is shocking. Having to work with a man who looks exactly like the man who dirty-talked you into oblivion and not being able to think of anything else while he discusses staff salary structures and guest complaints is even worse. I mean, you’re damned if it’s him and you’re damned if it isn’t. Maybe the solution is you ask for a triplet sandwich and be done with it.”

  “There is something sooooo wrong with you.” I laugh and draw a look from a woman passing by.

  “You know you’ve already thought of it. What sane woman wouldn’t have?”

  “Perhaps.” A smile creeps onto my lips. “But nothing is going to happen. No sleeping with my boss. No triplet sandwiches. No anything.” And just the thought has my thighs clenching together.

  This is not a good sign.

  “Callahan.” She draws the name out as if she didn’t hear a word I said. “That’s a mouthful. Do you think he’ll let you shorten it to Cal in the heat of passion? Oh Cal, give me your monster cock, baby.”

  “Jesus. This isn’t even a topic we’re discussing. Sleeping with my boss is a line I can’t cross. I have too much to lose.”

  Her suggestive laugh has me rolling my eyes. “Then I guess it’s going to be a one-way discussion, honey, because I’m talking about it.”

  My sigh fills the line, but my smile she can’t see widens.

  “I believe your words were the best sex you’d ever had,” she continues. “Earth-shattering was another adjective. You didn’t think anyone would ever compare was another description. I don’t know about you, but that kind of sex is worth breaking the rules over.”

  “In any other situation, yes. Maybe.” I look around to make sure no one is within earshot of my side of the conversation.