The staff have informed me that he was handed over to the police who were conveniently outside, he had a little fall on his way out unfortunately, but they were far more interested in the little baggie in his possession rather than his split lip.
Not wanting to invade her night, I left her to get back to her friends, only to find her back in front of me. Like a siren, she seduced me, and I was only happy to comply. Her body was beautiful, a canvas of curves I wanted to run my tongue over. And I got to; every inch of her. She smelled like coconuts and I couldn’t work out if it was her skin, her hair or her fucking essence. And her lips, fuck, when she kissed me on the terrace it was like a beacon calling me home.
“You must have done something. Maybe the sex wasn’t good. Do you think she was faking it?” He raises his eyebrows and smirks at me, knowing he’s pulled me out of a memory.
I’m both shocked and offended at his suggestion. I know when a woman is faking it. I’m thirty-five, I’ve earnt my arrogance and paid the price as a young lad. It’s taken a few years to hone my skills in the bedroom. I don’t claim to be some kind of Casanova, but with Reilly, I read her body and gave her everything she needed, she was singing for me. I loved every moment until her crazy crawled out of her.
“This is why I stopped dating. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I’ve got Neive and MJ to take care of.” MJ is my baby sister. Not so baby anymore, but I will always care for her the way a big brother should. Which means taking in my niece, Neive.
“Is Neive settling in okay?” Jeeves asks. “It must be tricky with her mum in rehab.” His face is sombre. He cares for MJ as well and treats Neive like his own family. He’s a handsome guy – his shaved head and rugged face gives him a dangerous edge women like. He’s had a few casual relationships but has a habit of putting me and mine first. Women don’t like it when he’s at my beck and call. They like it even less when he drops everything to be at MJ’s side when she needs him. He’s picked her up off the floor more times than I have.
“Yeah, she’s settling in fine. It’s been a couple of months, but she’s constantly waiting for me to ask her to pack her bags and move out. She called me early this morning while I was at the hotel with Reilly. Freaking out because she thought I had abandoned her. I need to find someone for her to talk to. A professional. It’s a lot for her to take in.”
I sympathise with Neive and want to do the best for her. I went through a lot at her age, so I get it. Twelve isn’t easy for anyone. Add in an addict mum and throw in moving in with your bachelor uncle, and that’s got to stir up internal issues.
“All that money you’re dropping on that posh school, you would think they could provide a bit of therapy.” Jeeves still can’t adhere to what he calls “rich twat logic”. I pointed out once that it’s me being a “rich twat” that allows him to have such a comfortable lifestyle. He didn’t appreciate it.
He’s been downtrodden most of his life and carries it around on his shoulders. I wish I could get him to loosen up a little. The gym helps. We both work out every morning. Start with a 5k run to warm up, followed by a sparring match, which,depending on my state of stress, can go from anything to bag work and light punches to an all-out war. Jeeves makes me wear gloves and a head guard. Says my face is the moneymaker, though apparently a couple of cuts and bruises on him help to keep his mysterious aura.
I do my best thinking in the gym. It’s here I outlined my business plan for Fox Industries. It’s here I mentally designed the layout of the Waterside Hotel, and it’s where, every morning, I vow to do the best for MJ and Neive. To always put them first.
Losing my parents so young and being shoved into the care system hardened my soul, but it gave me the drive to be the success I am today.
“So, what’s your plan with Reilly?” Jeeves isn’t going to drop this one.
“Plan? The plan is to remember it as a great night of sex and a lucky escape.” Although I will always wonder what could have been.
As I’m finishing my workout, Charles waltzes through the door like he owns the place. He has his own untouched gym at his house, but he comes here often, if only to invade my morning routine.
“Heard you got ditched last night,” he says, shovelling a breakfast wrap into his smug, punchable face. How he keeps himself in shape, I’ll never know. “It’s all about moderation and priorities,” he often tells me. Though his main priority right now is to wind me up. How did he find out about last night so quickly? I throw an accusatory glance at Jeeves, who holds his hands up to protest his innocence.
Charles is the son of William Michaelson. The man who I owe my fortune to. His sister fostered me, and after seeing me throwing away my potential in school he took a liking to me. Paid for private education and saw me through university.
“You stayed at Waterside last night?” I question. He spent the first part of the night shamelessly flirting with the bar staff, before getting close and personal with Reilly’s friend. The way they were all over each other I assumed he went home with her.
The first time Charles and I met we were thirteen, we got on okay, mainly indifferent towards each other. When I went to Weston Academy, the boarding school Charles already attended, we mostly ignored each other; he held a twinge of jealousy at the attention I got from his father.
“I did stay, actually. Just not in a room.” He winks at me. He’s been the same since school. Whereas I focused on my school work and trying to reinvent myself as someone deserving of the place, he walked the walk and talked to talk charming everyone he could to get where he needed to be. Despite this, something somewhere clicked and we’ve been close ever since. My friend and brother by no shared blood or name.
“Stop fucking the staff,” I growl. We are one wrong shag away from legal troubles.
“It’s only Beth in security. She knows the drill. We had a great time watching that beautiful goddess give you an obscene hand gesture as you chased after her.” Charles is practically howling now with laughter. Jeeves’s shoulders shake as he tries to hide his amusement while getting his cardio in on the treadmill. He’s got one thing right, Reilly is beautiful and an absolute goddess.
“What did you do anyway? I always thought you could charm the ladies,” Charles asks, wiping his hands on a napkin, and stuffs the packaging from his processed breakfast in a bag, looking around for a place to stash it without me seeing him not use the perfectly accessible bin.
“Nothing. I did nothing.” I grab the bag and get rid of it before he makes a mess.
“Maybe that’s the problem. I’ve told you all about prep work. You can’t just spit on it and stick it in.” He follows this with an unhelpful and, quite frankly, revolting visual explanation.
“You’re vulgar.”
“And you’re clearly a crap lay.” He shrugs at me, continuing to push my buttons.
“Why are you here?”
I take my place back on the weight bench and stare at the ceiling. I need a distraction from last night. Charles dragging on about the fuck up with Reilly isn’t helping me de-stress.
“Dad wants us over for a lunch meeting. I thought we’d arrive together. You know I can’t bear to be alone with him.” He’s avoiding my eye as he fiddles with the weight rack.
