Grant

 

 

 

Low music pulses lazily in my ears, flowing through my body on a river of mixed alcohols and swirling dreams.

Each bump of the electric bass fizzles inside of me, making caustic nausea rise up the back of my throat. My eyes crack open slowly, greeting the shadowed white of the ceiling over my head.

Where was I?

All I knew was my whole body hurt, like I’d done one of those crazy CrossFit workouts that Reagan was into or something. Then again, I’d been with Eli - you never know where that kind of night will take you.

But no, I recognized this soreness and inner revulsion that came after a night of binge drinking and bad decisions. It’d been fun once. I couldn’t seem to find that merriment anymore. Instead, all I found was an intense migraine and an upset stomach.

Groaning, I slowly sat up, my head spinning with the effort as a chuckle echoed across the room. Squinting, I tilt my head to the side to peer through the darkness towards the glow of a cigar nearby.

“Well, hello, princess.” Eli chuckles, taking another deep drag of his cigar, “I thought you’d never wake back up. Can’t keep up anymore?”

“Where the hell are we?”

I run my hands through my hair, trying to remember anything after chugging a fifth of whiskey in the club. I could recall the flickers of bits and glimpses. Kitten dancing in front of me, her body against mine, someone giggling in my ear.

“Hotel.” Eli shrugs.

My eyes adjust the dark of the room, the heavy curtains pulled over the windows and blocking out any stray light. Bodies lay strewn around me on the bed, mostly naked. Kitten’s arm is twined around my waist, her breath soft against my thigh. I’m naked, the blanket wrapped around my legs like a boa constrictor.

“And my clothes?” I grunt.

Another woman rouses from the other side of the huge suite, lazily plodding over towards Eli and falling into his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck, her mouth pressing against his collarbone.

“How should I know?” He asks with another chuckle, tilting the woman’s face back so that he can devour her already swollen lips.

My head throbs, like my skull is squeezing down on my brain with harsh iron shackles. Groaning again, I somehow manage to hurl back the blanket roughly and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My feet brush the naked body of another woman curled on the floor, though she doesn’t even seem to notice that I nearly stomped on her. A few of the girls in big bed whine and writhe from the movement, not opening their tired eyes.

Whatever we’d done, it’d definitely worn them out.

Kitten’s fingers abruptly tighten around my wrist, tugging me backwards towards her waiting embrace.

“Where are you going?” She whimpers, climbing to her knees on the mattress and wrapping herself against me. She nuzzles her face against my chin. Her breath is liquor scented and makes my stomach heave.

Her corset hangs loose around her, barely clinging to the curves of her body as she rubs herself against my back, trying to lure me back into the silken sheets of her paradise.

“Yes, Grant, where are you going? The party is only just getting started.” Eli adds with a grin, his fingers raking across the hips of the woman in his lap as he turns her to face him, “Are you really going to leave me to pleasure all of these lovely girls?”

Jerking free from Kitten’s grasp, I rub my hands across my face in an attempt to massage some clarity into my blurry, exhausted eyes, “Time?” I grunt, like a weary caveman who can only speak in single syllables.

“It’s only five.”

“Damn.” I mutter against my slick palms. The hours had slipped by like water between grasping fingers. I’d missed the shareholder meeting, not that I could particularly bring myself to care. Those old men were nothing more than a nuisance, “Got any Tylenol?”

Eli shakes his head, pointing his cigar towards the corner of the hotel room, “But I found your pants.”

Sighing and heaving myself to my feet, I turn towards the corner. I could only stare as my expensive, tailored suit floats by in the dimly lit wall length aquarium amongst a herd of small colorful fish.

“You’ve got to kidding me.”

The woman in Eli’s lap breaks into giggles, “You dared Kitten to jump in and get it last night.”

Obviously that hadn’t happened.

“Last night?” I frown in hungover confusion, “It’s only five.”

“AM, Grant. It’s five in the morning.” Eli offers with a smug smile. He’d known what he was doing. The sneaky bastard.

“Shit.”

I turn back to my suit blankly as my cell drifts from the pocket and a curious fish pokes it with a broad fin. No doubt I’d missed over a dozen calls from Reagan, not to mention I probably just lost all my progress on Candy Crush.

“Shit.” I repeat once more, collapsing back onto the edge of the bed, my arms heavy on my knees like my body weighs a thousand pounds. Kitten once again creeps back over to me, but her fingers against my flesh makes my skin crawl. I jerk away from her, ignoring her squeak of dissatisfaction.

“I’ve got to go.”

I had to go home and shower and get right to the office. As much as the shareholders bothered me with their very existence, I had to appease them. There was no way I was going to do that with red rimmed eyes and whiskey breath. Damn. Reagan was going to be so pissed at me.

“With no clothes?” Eli smirks, “I don’t think you’ll get very far.”

I was in no mood for Eli’s haughty attempt at wit today. Not when I was going to have to go face a very angry Reagan and a very angry board who held my future, and my fortune, in their greed hands.

When I don’t answer, Eli sighs and lightly lifts the girl out of his lap so he could climb to his feet, “Here. Borrow this. You should get going, you’re sucking the life out of the party.”

He bends down to rifle through a nearby suitcase before walking over to me, his cigar stuck between his teeth, a simple navy polo and pair of slightly wrinkled khakis in his hands.

“Thanks.” I offer, glad that Eli and I were a similar size.

Eli just shrugs again impatiently, gaze following me as I trudge into the bathroom to change. I flick on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness and splashing some water on my face. I look just as bad as I figured I would, my eyes bloodshot and my face sallow from the overindulgence of booze. I could feel almost feel it steaming from my pores.

By the time I emerge again Eli has taken my place on the bed, his arms wrapped around the slithering bodies of the strippers against his sides and a content grin on his face. While once I would have envied him, the sheer bliss in his eyes makes me nauseous.

I grab my wallet from the table, thankful that it didn’t end up in the aquarium with the rest of everything I’d brought with me.

“I’m leaving.” I announce unceremoniously, though no one appears to care except for Kitten, who pouts on the corner of the bed away from Eli.

Eli gives a little wave, barely looking my way as I slip out the hotel room door without shoes.

I pad down the hallway, ignoring the curious looks of the room cleaners as I pass. I could only wish them luck with cleaning whatever mess Eli and his dozen escorts would leave behind.

 

~~

 

“I’m going to kill you.”

Reagan stares at me with huge, angry eyes and balled up fists.

“I swear to God. I am like… just… going to stab you or something.”

“Jesus, woman.” I laugh, trying to break the tense mood between us, “Lighten up a little?”

Her already furious eyes grow even more so. If looks could kill, I’d be dead twelve times over.

“Lighten up a little?” She hisses through harshly gritted teeth, “Seriously, you’re telling me to lighten up a little?”

I shrug, taking a long sip of the latte the cute barista downstairs had been so eager to give me. I was definitely going to need it to get through today.

“I don’t think you understand what’s going to happen here, Grant. I don’t think you understand exactly what’s at stake.”

“So enlighten me, then.” I grumble, staring through the tiny opening of my coffee cup’s plastic lid. The barista had forgotten to put whipped cream on it. Damn.

“My father and the rest of the shareholders are looking for a way to get rid of you and you’re just handing them all the proof of your incompetence that they could ever want. I mean, God, you smell like the floor of a bar right now.”

I ignore her statement, reaching into the bottom drawer of my desk to yank out a bottle of cologne.

“And you look like shit.” She adds, a contemplative afterthought.

“Why would they want to get rid of me so bad? It’s thanks to me that their investments have skyrocketed.” A few spritzes of expensive cologne later and I’m sure I’m smelling like a high end bar floor at least.

“It’s not just about the money. They can get any over eager genius in here to get them that, they’re already ridiculously wealthy as it is.”

I lifted my chin, tapping my cheek thoughtfully, “Are you calling me a genius, Reags?”

She glares dangerously, sliding up onto the corner of my desk and crossing her knees daintily.

“It’s about image. You got the spot because your daddy made such a big difference in the community and you could continue that legacy. It looks good for the business. Brings kind of a family image to it, right?”

“So what’s the issue again?”

Reagan Sherry jumps back off the desk and walks into the main hall between the offices, returning a second later with a small stack of tabloids in her hands. She throws them in front of me, crossing her arms.

My face and name scrawl across the different magazines. In some, I’m dancing half naked with a stripper. In others, my head is tilted back as I pour liquor between my lips. In the last one, my personal favorite, I’m doing a belly shot off a naked woman. I was going to take these and hang them on my wall.

“These are not good for our image.” Reagan whispers, irritated by the prideful glint in my eye, “These are going to get you fired and there’s not much I can do to help you.”

“I’m not going to get fired, Reagan.” I sigh dismissively, “Your dad won’t just give me the boot that easily.”

Reagan thrusts another tabloid in my face, though this time I don’t recognize the grainy picture.

Then, suddenly, I do.

Kitten’s arms slither tight around my neck, her naked body wrapped around my own. We’re outside the club where I met Eli and obviously locked in some kind of intimate embrace, though I don’t have any memory of this.

“This is from last night.” I mumble, grabbing the magazine cover closer to my face, “What the hell…?”

“There are rumors this woman is pregnant with your child and you’re planning a shotgun wedding.” Reagan continues grimly, “There’s only so far you can push this.”

“She is absolutely not pregnant with my child and I am absolutely not marrying her.” I spit out, honestly startled.

Just who had taken that picture? How was it already on the face of a magazine?

Before Reagan could say anything else, the door suddenly swings open behind us.

“Um, Ms. Sherry…” The woman standing before us sputters shyly, tugging on a blue blouse that looks vaguely familiar, “Someone is here to see Mr. Price?”

As Reagan groans and slaps her forehead, the girl’s brown eyes travel over to mine, her sweet face suddenly going a fierce shade of pink.

Was she blushing?

Damn. Even hungover and exhausted, I still got it.

“You…” She breaths as I run a hand through my still damp hair and grin at her, only to realize that her slowly reddening face was not a shade of endearment, but of anger. Was everyone angry at me today? It was just pick on Grant Price day!

“You knocked my coffee out of my hand yesterday!” The girl squeals, stamping her foot, “I had to scrub this blouse for an hour!”

Reagan arches a dark brow, glancing at me curiously. A teasing smile quirking on her mouth. If there was anything that could pull Reagan Sherry from a horrible mood, it was my torment.

“Oh, yes.” I chuckle in sudden recognition, “The girl who stood stalk still in the center of a busy sidewalk and was surprised to get bumped into.”

Her brow furrows, rosy hue of her cheeks still furious as I stand and move past Reagan to reach out a hand. The woman doesn’t react, staring at my outstretched fingers as though she expected them to be daggers. Like Reagan, she’s gorgeous even when she’s angry.

“Grant Price. CEO. You are?”

“Poppy Lewis.” She says softly, eyes shifting to Reagan and then back to me, “You’re the boss here?”

I nod lightly, lifting her hand to my lips and planting a kiss on the back of her palm. It was always good to be a gentleman. Ladies loved it. “And don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten our coffee arrangement. Now, where are my guests?”

She stumbles backwards, pointing down the far end of the hall towards where Ted Sherry and the rest of the shareholders have gathered. In their matching, boring suits, they look like a bunch of body collectors come to drag me down to the pits of hell. Or the conference room. Whichever was closer.

“Gentlemen!” I announce loudly as I stride over to them, swinging my arms wide open as though I were actually happy to see them, “I’m so glad you came for a chat.”

“We’ve tried to have this chat at least seven times in the last two months.” Ted replies sharply, his eyes just as icy and frightening as his daughter’s. It was clear where Reagan had inherited her biting humor.

“Yes, I saw that little game that you all played on me yesterday. Blocking in my car, what a riot.”

The men exchange silent, tired glances before I usher them all towards the nearest hallway. When I look back towards my office, Reagan and Poppy are standing beside each other, watching me. They almost remind me of sad new brides watching their husband go off to fight in the civil war.

That’s what this would be, though: a fight to the bitter end. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t have a sword to protect me.

With a wink to the ladies, I follow the men into the room and take my seat at the head of the table.

“So, what is it we need to discuss today?” I ask with a clear of my throat, relaxing backwards in my chair. It creaks softly as I rock back and forth, my foot fidgeting over my ankle. It was nerve-wracking knowing that their intent was to utterly destroy me.

“I believe you already know what we’re here for.” Ted sighs, adjusting his glasses so that they were further up his strong nose. His blue eyes narrow on me, daring me to disagree.

I lean forward, plopping my elbows on the table with an inquisitive glimmer in my eye, “Afraid not, gents. How about I get Reagan to find us some donuts though. Maple bacon, your favorite, Mr. Jennings.” I add with a grin towards the mousiest of the shareholders. He was the weakest link, the one I could get to break from a unanimous vote against my CEO title. To fire me, they’d need every single one.

“Actually, my wife has put me on a diet…” Jennings mumbles, his eyes going desolate at the talk of a sweet treat.

Damn. So much for that one.

“I don’t believe this meeting will be long enough for brunch.” Ted Sherry interjects, leaning forward to meet my eye before I can pinpoint another weak member of his board to target.

“Glad to hear it.” I respond quietly, keeping a taut smile still on my face.

With these hungry vultures dressed in fine suits and Italian loafers, you cannot show a single moment of weakness. You cannot let your guard down for even a second.

“Grant, we’ve gathered today to tell you that this isn't working for us anymore. You as the CEO, I mean.”

“Excuse me?” I growl, straightening slightly in my chair. Ted was direct and straight to the point. Usually I respected that about him.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the same newsstands we have. Your face is all over them.”

“Any publicity is good publicity, isn’t that right?”

“You forget that your face represents our entire company, everything that we’ve been building for generations. We’re respected in this community. Hell, they dedicated the university library to us.”

“I like to have a little fun.” I mutter, struggling not to appear ruffled, “I’m sure people get that.”

“They don’t.” Ted responds bluntly.

“You can’t just kick me out like this. This is my family’s business.”

“A family business that has carefully curated bylaws about a code of conduct.” He frowns back, exchanging glances with one of the men nearby, “But you’re correct. We do have to offer you one single chance at redemption.”

“Fine. What do I have to do?” I sigh, feeling around in my pockets for my wallet, “The university wants another library?”

“You have to get married, Grant. We’ve spent enough time covering your ass.”

“Wait, married?” I sputter, clinging to the armrests of my chair, “What the hell are you even-”

“You have one week to find some pure looking virgin Mary of a bride to fix your image and our reputation. Show us you can be a good, committed, stable man.”

Ted narrows his blue eyes on me, daring me to disagree. My throat is too dry to argue.

“If you don’t find someone before our next meeting, you will be kicked from the company and your father will lose his investment.”

“You’re going to drag my dad into this?” I rebuke, anger rising with the hairs on the back of my neck, “It’s one thing to drag me through the mud, but Dad practically built this place. He’ll go bankrupt!”

Ted just smiles, giving a light shrug, “Now you know how serious we are about this. You’ve tainted our name, Grant. You’ve made us look like fools. If you force us to, we’ll take drastic measures. Your fall from grace will be brutal and humiliating. We will not have mercy.”

I don’t respond, clenching my fingers so tight around the armrest that my knuckles blanch. It’s hard to breathe.

One of the men beside Ted Sherry hesitantly glides a folder across the table. I don’t touch it, not letting my burning glare twitch away from Ted for an instant.

“We’ve put together a list of suitable women for you.” Jennings mumbles, his feet shifting beneath him uncertainly, “These are girls from good families with good backgrounds.”

“Like hell I’ll let you arrange a marriage for me.” I spit bitterly, jerking upwards so that I stand before the men. I want to punch the satisfied smirk right off Ted’s face.

“One week, Grant. One week to find someone suitable for your last name.”

Ted nods his chin swiftly towards the doorway, the rest of the shareholders beginning to file from the room.

Still smug, he extends a tan hand towards me, “Always a pleasure doing business with you.” He grins.

Instead of shaking his hand, I sink back into the chair below me, glaring down at the portfolio resting peacefully on the table.

As the conference room door swings shut, I rip open the folder to the first woman.

A headshot of a girl with slicked back hair and a tepid smile watches me from the page. Underneath her name is a list of her assets, interests, and even body measurements. It was disturbing. I couldn’t tell whether it was the hangover or the diligent notes on the girl’s temperament that made my stomach heave.

I flip further, taking in the boring smiles of all the women until a familiar one catches my eye. Reagan beams at me from the middle of the pile, making my gut twist even more harshly as I slam the folder back shut. Ted was even willing to sell off his own daughter, disgusting.

But just what the hell was I supposed to do now?

I had one week to find a bride… one week to find someone I would spend the rest of my life with.

I wasn’t sure which was worse: eternal business damnation or a wedding.