The Arrival

The evening with my father turned out to be pleasant and recharged my batteries.

He even gave me some good advice for dealing with Mr. Odell and his son; I just hope some of it works because, if Carson said they’re a tough nut to crack, I can’t imagine how they’ll act with me now that my colleague has put them on the defensive.

I don’t even know why my father assigns this type of work to him.

I wake up full of energy after a restful night’s sleep and ready to take on the world. Which convinces me I need to meet with my father outside of work more often because it does me so much good.

Road trips have always been stimulating for me, even more so since I’ve had my own car.

There’s nothing better than cruising down the highway at your own pace with absolute control over what you’re doing.

And since I left earlier than necessary, I can stop if I feel like it to admire the views.

It’s exactly what I needed to clear my mind completely.

The past few weeks have been a bit stressful at the office and I’ve barely had time for myself.

Everything boiled down to leaving home at eight in the morning and getting back at ten at night, with a couple of hours for lunch in between.

That is, as long as meetings didn’t run over, forcing me to devour a salad at my desk in a rush to make the next one.

Although trying to negotiate a sale may not be paradise, right now it feels like it.

It’ll be a break by comparison, no matter how difficult the owners try to make things for me.

The breeze on my face feels wonderful and I don’t mind that my hair looks like a bird’s nest because of the wind.

Many women wear a scarf over their hair to keep it from getting messed up when they put the top down, but I prefer the feeling of freedom that comes from the air against my face. If I could, I’d stand up and scream.

It wouldn’t be the first time, at least; when I was younger—and not driving—I used to do it quite often.

Now I think things over a couple of times before acting.

Sometimes I wonder when I let my spontaneity slip away along the road.

I suppose working for a serious company limits you and, even though my father is the owner, I have to be a responsible lawyer.

Or rather, precisely because he is, I need to prove beyond any doubt that I deserve my position.

I’m eager to arrive and meet with Carson so he can tell me firsthand what the Odells are like.

A report won’t tell me what I want to know, since it only reflects numbers and statistics.

I always lean toward the human side of the job, because I tend to have more success if I reach the person and not the businessman.

Sometimes all they need is someone to listen.

Carson is a great lawyer, I won’t deny that, but he’s terrible as a human being.

I’m sure the poor man refused to sign because of his high-and-mighty attitude.

He’s not cut out for handling small accounts, but rather big multinationals or companies with a certain clout in the financial world.

He’s very aggressive when negotiating and family businesses aren’t his forte. He scares them.

The town appears before me like one of those classic scenes depicted on the postcards you find in local gift shops, and I can’t help slowing down to enjoy the view.

It’s very beautiful, even more so than I expected.

I hope I can find some free time before heading back to the city to discover what charms it has hidden away.

These towns tucked between mountains tend to be quite surprising if you know where to look.

It’s not difficult to find the inn because, as my father said, it’s the only one in town and it’s quite central.

Like everything here, it has a very rustic style, with a stone facade and a hanging sign made entirely of wood.

The shutters, in a grass-green color, strike me as utterly charming although I, personally, would have chosen a more cheerful tone.

When I step inside, a little bell above my head chimes to announce my arrival and I’m enveloped by a thoroughly homey atmosphere.

I like it. I like it a lot, and I smile thinking about how miserable Carson must be here.

He’s an absolute city person and he surely hated every single day of his stay in this town. I know I’ll love it.

My room matches the predominant style and is simple but looks very inviting.

The canopy bed is wonderfully romantic and reminds me of the historical romance novels I loved reading as a teenager.

I leave my suitcase in a corner and call Carson because, before anything else, I want to set up a meeting.

I know he’ll be dying to leave. I’ll have time to settle in later.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he answers the moment he picks up. “Have you arrived already?”

“Hello, Carson. When can we meet?”

“That eager? Did you miss me?”

I can picture him with a grin on his face, one of those he thinks makes him so irresistible, and I try not to lose my patience.

“My father wants you back first thing tomorrow morning, so we don’t have a lot of time for you to answer my questions. Your reports, as always, are an absolute mess.” I maintain a professional tone, hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Let’s have dinner tonight,” he suggests, “and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Perfect. Tell me where and when.”

“In this town there’s not much to choose from.” He laughs. “Very close to the inn there’s a small restaurant where they serve excellent home-cooked food. Let’s meet at seven there. Or I can come by and pick you up if you prefer.”

“I don’t think I’ll get lost, Carson. See you there.”

“Maybe afterward we could have a few drinks together,” he suggests just as I’m about to hang up.

“See you at seven.” And I hang up.

I made the mistake of sleeping with him a year ago.

I was far too drunk and he was all too willing to get me into bed.

I’m not saying we didn’t have a good time, but it never should have happened.

You shouldn’t mix pleasure and work, and even less so with a man who doesn’t get hints, or who simply does whatever he pleases even when you tell him straight to his face.

Since that night, he’s tried to repeat it at every opportunity he’s had the chance to proposition me. I’ve refused every single time, of course, but he’s turned out to be tireless and far too persistent. It comes with the profession, but in this case, it’s not helping me.

Though I’ve brought more comfortable clothes for my free time, I settle on a black pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a fitted blazer to match the skirt.

Stiletto heels are a must whenever I’m working.

I like comfort, but I’ve discovered that if people see me well put together, they take me more seriously.

I check myself in the mirror one last time before heading down. Even though the restaurant is close, I prefer to arrive early. Besides, I’d rather Carson not order wine for dinner because he’ll be even more insufferable than usual.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

My colleague has decided to dress more casually, with a shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal part of his chest, and no blazer.

His hair looks artfully tousled—without actually being so, because I know he spends quite a bit of time in front of the mirror to get it that way.

He’s rolled up his sleeves to the elbows and I can see the tattoo on one of his forearms. I can’t say he isn’t a tempting man, but I should never have opened that door.

We work together; there’s no way this can end well.

Especially since I know for a fact he’s a womanizer. Better not to repeat mistakes.

I glare at him for how he addressed me but, as always, he ignores my reproach. Instead, he opens the door for me and we walk into the restaurant.

It’s a place as charming as the inn and has a familial aura that captivates me.

I’m convinced everyone here knows each other by name and treats one another as if they shared the same blood.

It’s an idyllic place to live if you’re looking for peace and quiet, but it’s not ideal for running a company like the one my father intends to absorb.

There’s no way to expand without investing large sums of money.

And that’s something they simply don’t have right now.

I don’t even know how they managed to rub shoulders with the top designers during their golden years.

Or why they didn’t take advantage of it to move to the city and keep growing.

They could have gone far if they’d managed it better.

“Thank God you’re here,” he says, helping me with my chair. “This place is deadly boring. There’s nothing to do.”

“That’s because you don’t know where to look, Carson.”

“Corey.”

“We’re not going there again, Carson,” I emphasize his last name. “I’ve told you many times it’s not going to happen again. Why don’t you stop insisting?”

“Don’t blame me for wanting to try every time I see you.” He shrugs. “I haven’t been able to forget you.”

“Me or any of the other women I know you’ve been with this past year,” I retort.

“And no, it’s not jealousy,” I add before he can say it himself.

“I simply don’t understand why you can’t grasp that I don’t want to sleep with you again.

Besides, we both know you only keep pushing because you see me as unattainable and that gets you hard.

The moment you get me in your bed again, you’ll lose interest.”

“We could test that theory.”

“We could have dinner,” I counter.

“Fine.” He points at me. “You win this time.”

“This time and every time,” I whisper while scanning the menu because I don’t want to keep arguing with him. Every day I regret more having drunk so much that night. Or not going home when my father told me he was calling it a night.