I’d covered everything from the beach to the aquarium to the Musée Bonnat by the time I returned to the resort around five.

For excluding me from the meeting this morning, I was hell-bent on staying at least grouchy with Julian, but that didn’t work. He had texted me all day during my adventures, asking for updates on what I’d seen. After a good deal of badgering, he even caved to my request to download Snapchat, an idea he was fervently against till about 2PM.

But from that point on, I sent him picture after video after picture of where I was. And wherever I was, I stopped and grinned to read whatever he promptly sent back. For shots of scenery, it was usually “very nice” and a suggestion of something cool to see or peruse nearby. But for selfies, Julian’s replies grew increasingly urgent, starting with “you look gorgeous” to “damn it Sara,” before finally reaching “come back now so I can take your dress off.”

I stopped in the middle of the town square, my heart skipping a beat as I read that message. Then without wasting another second, I turned straight on my heel to go back to the resort.

I was on my way up to our floor in the vintage elevator when it stopped halfway, opening to present me with Turner. His shirt was half unbuttoned and twisted askew, thanks to a similarly haphazardly dressed girl hanging off his body.

“Holy shit, enough,” he laughed, peeling her off of him before stumbling in and noticing me. “Oh, shit! Look who it is. Quick, press door close so she doesn’t follow me in,” he said, hitting me with the stench of sex and sweat as he jabbed the button.

“Hello, Turner,” I finally offered my greeting.

“Hello yourself. Jesus, look at you. I just wanna pull on this,” he said, tugging at the tie of my bikini top at the back of my neck. I shirked away.

“Please don’t.”

“That’s fine, I can see plenty as it is,” he laughed, looking down at the outfit I’d changed into for the beach – a white V-neck tunic dress over my light blue swimsuit. Turner kept his eyes pinned to my cleavage. “Listen, Sara, what can you tell me about the age demographics in this town?” he asked with a serious frown despite still staring at my chest.

“The residential population or the tourist population?”

Turner grinned. “Whatever.”

“Well, starting with the population on a regular basis, it’s about twenty-five thousand with a median age around – ”

“Honestly, all I really want to know is why I’m having trouble finding girls as pretty as you.”

Ugh. I stretched my lips in a smile to avoid retching in Turner’s face, which I really did want to do considering he’d just baited me with work talk for the sole purpose of leading into a shitty pick-up line.

“I think that’s above my pay grade, Turner.”

“You’re funny. Seriously though, Sara – what does it feel like to be the most beautiful woman in Biarritz right now?” Turner pressed on, almost buckling my knees with his sheer level of cheese. “Don’t laugh! Trust me, I’ve been looking around, I’ve given it a few shots here and there, but so far, the talent is surprisingly bleak for a surf town,” he said as the elevator approached my floor.

“You never pressed your floor, Turner,” I smiled as the doors opened on mine. I pursed my lips when he followed me out.

“I have a question about the age demographics. Business stuff.” He strode behind me with a grin in his voice. “Can you help me out?”

“Absolutely. Would you like to schedule for all of us to meet a little early before dinner? I’m sure Julian’s on the premises, so that can be easily arranged,” I said, slowing to a stop in front of my door. Turner smirked down at me.

“Nah. I’ve already got you here. Let’s just talk in your room,” he said, nodding behind me. He was aware as usual that I saw right through his bullshit – he just didn’t care. He was confident it would still work.

“No, Turner, we should meet in the salon,” I said politely.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Don’t be so rigid.” Oh, pleeease. I did my best not to roll my eyes. I honestly wished I had a hidden camera live streaming all this entitled douchebaggery to Lia. She’d love it. “Just humor me, Sara.”

“Alright, Turner,” I said, watching his eyebrows wiggle in anticipation of my key on the door. But I didn’t give him that satisfaction. “Hit me with your question right here. About age demographics? Is that what you wanted to ask?”

I did my best not to laugh as Turner’s face fell flat. But just as quickly, it returned to life with that signature shit-eating grin of his.

“Jesus. You really don’t trust me enough to come in your room?” he asked, giving a little chuckle.

“My room is not a space for a business meeting, Turner.”

“Fine, then let’s do something besides business.”

Okay, so you’re clearly just going for it now. I crossed my arms.

“Considering business is precisely what we’re here for, my answer is going to be no.”

“Let’s be real – your business here is a little different than that of the guys.”

“Come again?”

Turner rubbed his chin and laughed. “Oh, no… you think I don’t know, do you?”

My heart thumped but I cocked my head to play it off.

“Know what?”

“Why you were hired,” he said, stepping close to me. I was sure his chest was entirely too close to mine, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking down to confirm. I kept my stare pinned right back on his, refusing to look anything but undaunted.

“And why do you think I was hired, Turner?”

“Come on, Sara,” he whispered mischievously. “Girls like you get jobs like these because they’re pretty. Because their asses look good in little skirts. You’re hired strictly to make deals go more smoothly for guys like Julian. It’s why he hired you to oversee the changes at this resort,” he said, letting me know that he didn’t actually have the information I thought he did. I let out an inaudible breath of relief as Turner smirked. “Julian put you out here because people are more inclined to do what you say, Sara. You’re sweet, and friendly, and pretty, and they subconsciously want to please you. Hell, I know I want to please you.”

“Turner, from what I observed before you joined me in the elevator, you have your choice of women here,” I said calmly.

“Well, they don’t do it for me. I tried using them to scratch the itch – it didn’t work.”

I was quickly reaching my limit of being able to even fake laugh this off, so with the same polite smile I’d been giving him, I said, “Turner, I do have to get ready. I’ll see you at dinner.”

His voice was smug as I turned to open the door.

“That ass of yours is telling me to come in.”

“I assure you it’s not,” I fired back without glancing behind.

“Christ. So why even dress like that if you don’t want me to react?” he asked. I was halfway in my room when I froze in utter disgust. “You’re asking me to fuck you and then telling me you don’t want it. Is that not what’s going on?”

Lord, Turner. Seriously?

His questions were appalling. Undeniably so. Still, I waited for myself to feel that rush of shame or guilt. I waited to feel the need to cover up and tell myself I’d asked for it, but the feeling didn’t come.

Firmly blocking my open door, I turned to face him.

“Mr. Roth, as it turns out, women sometimes do things for their own pleasure and happiness. I wear my clothes because I like them, and because I feel good in them. I enjoy feeling attractive, and if that catches your attention, then you are welcome to look. But unless I invite you, do not ever touch or assume you’re entitled to. Using the way I dress as an excuse for your lack of respect or self-control is not justified or sufficient.” I tilted my head. “Okay?” I asked with a deliberate brightness that could only be interpreted as friendly.

Turner gazed at me for several seconds, his eyes glimmering.

“You know, you’re different than all the other girls.”

“I’m not. I’m just different from the ones you pursue. Cast a wider net and you’ll meet plenty of women willing to speak their minds.”

The shit-eating grin was back. “Why look for them when I’ve already got you?” Turner asked, looking me up and down. “Come on, sweetheart. Just let me in for a second,” he persisted. “I’ll keep it strictly business – pinky swear.”

I stared at him. “We can discuss anything you want right in this hall.”

“I don’t want to discuss it in the hall, Sara, and considering I’m the one making all the final decisions on this trip, you should probably think twice about being so difficult to work with,” he asked, his teasing tone tinged with an iciness now. He smiled at the slight falter in my expression. “You know Hoult needs this deal. I’m by far his highest bidder for this resort, and Roth Entertainment is the only, and I mean only company that can launch Empire Stadium into becoming the most lucrative stadium in New York. Considering the competition, that’s a big fucking deal in that town. And it’s a big deal to his family – I’m sure you know how important his family is to him. Right?”

“I do,” I muttered, my heart racing.

I swallowed hard as I thought about this deal coming down to a chance run-in with Turner, and his stupid, egotistical need to get his way and come in my room. I couldn’t stand the thought of Julian failing this venture solely because of me, or the thought of becoming another woman who came between him and his family. I considered that letting Turner into my room could be quick – that I could text Julian the moment I got in and let him know to swing by ASAP. If Turner’s intentions were in fact as lewd as I imagined, then I’d just have to stall for ten, fifteen minutes before Julian arrived.

For the sake of this entire deal, those fifteen minutes seemed potentially worth it.

At the same time, while I took more risks these days, I’d decidedly stopped taking ones like these.

I respected myself far too much for it.

“I’m sorry, Turner. But you’re not coming in my room,” I said, heading inside and nearly shutting the door in his face. My heart pounded when Turner pushed his hand against it, but to my slight relief, he only held it open enough to say one last thing.

“Come work for me.” He was quiet for a moment, his eyes curiously studying mine. “I’ll triple the salary you’ve got with Hoult.”

“I appreciate the offer, Turner, but no thank you.”

He laughed. “You barely gave it a thought.”

“I didn’t have to. See you at dinner.”

I flashed another perfectly nice smile before tightly shutting my door and locking it.