By lunchtime the next day, I have already cleaned three suites and am almost done with the last one. I have already cleaned Mr. Carter's suite. I was so relieved when front desk told me he wasn't around. I dreaded having to deal with him so early in the morning.
I finish and look around, proud of my impeccable work. Good as new. I load my cleaning items into the cleaning cart and stretch my aching shoulders. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I smile after I see the caller ID.
Callie. It's been a minute since we last talked. I answer.
"Hello−"
"I AM GOING TO KILL HIM."
I pull the phone away from my ear slightly.
"Good afternoon to you too, Calystar."
"I'm serious Zara. I'm done. I caught him!"
I lean against the wall.
"Caught who?"
"Ethan!"
"Oh." That was not good. She doesn't even pause to breathe.
"Tongue, Zara. His tongue was down her throat. In his office!"
"You went to his office?"
"I was around that side of town and decided to drop in and ask him out for lunch. I have every right to; he is my boyfriend. Well until a few minutes ago."
"Callie−"
"And you know who the girl is. That brunette with the annoying laugh from accounting. The one he was supposedly working on a project with!"
"Breathe darling, breathe. Don't get too worked up." I say rubbing my forehead.
"I am breathing."
"That didn't sound like breathing. Relax before you do anything reckless."
"Define reckless." She lowers her voice.
"Callie, what did you do?"
"I might have punched him." She mumbles but I hear clearly.
"You what?" I straighten.
"Just once. Well with each fist per second."
"Calystar!" I drag a hand down my face.
"I'm pretty sure I broke his nose too. But I couldn't tell. I had no time to confirm I was kicked out by the security."
I can't help but groan.
"You're going to get arrested one day."
I balance my phone between my ear and shoulder, and push the cart outside, locking the room.
"Worth it. He is so lucky they got me off him before I could do proper damage. I'm still furious though."
"I can tell. Do you want to come over?"
She takes a breath. "Don't you have work?"
"Only until ten."
"Perfect! I'm coming over then."
"I'll sneak a little something from the bar."
"That's why you're my favourite human." She squeals.
"I am your only human."
"Exactly."
I laugh quietly, shaking my head at her.
"Just try not to commit any more crime before then."
"No promises."
The call ends and I slip the phone back into my pocket. I wheel the cart back into the storage room. I finish up and walk back into the staff corridor, when the intercom rings.
"Housekeeping."
"Zara?" the receptionist asks.
"Yes."
"You move quickly. You're needed in suite 514. Like minutes ago."
Of course I was. I hoped he'd stay away the whole day. Oh well.
I sigh hanging up.
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
I walk into his suite after a gruff 'come in'. he is seated in the living area, head buried in a document while his assistant types away in his iPad.
"You asked for me?"
"I need wine and a serving of two."
I walk to the minibar and take out a bottle along with the glasses.
"Duncan, has he arrived?" he asks his assistant. So that's his name.
"Yes sir, should I get him?" he gestures at him to go ahead.
I place them on the table before opening the bottle. I place the bottle next to the glasses and step away. That's when he finally looks up.
"Stay." I pause, not quite sure if I've heard right.
"Sir?"
"You'll refill the glasses."
Right. Wonderful. This man was clearly sent to test my patience. Housekeeping apparently also meant personal wine attendant.
"Of course." I say just as the door opens and Duncan steps in.
A young man follows in, adjusting his tie nervously. He seems to be in his early twenties. I wouldn't blame him for being nervous. Mr. Carter has the habit of evoking such reactions with his domineering presence.
"Mr. Carter." He says quickly, approaching him. He rises to his feet, accepting his handshake.
"Mr. Hale." He says calmly. "Have a seat. Fancy some wine?" he asks after they're both seated. Upon his acceptance, he gestures at me to pour the wine. I fill his glass then proceeded to Mr. Hale's.
"Thank you, miss." He says and I look at him, taken aback. I quickly recover and offer him a small smile. I take my position, standing a few feet away from Mr. Hale. Duncan stands behind Andrew, his attention on them, for once.
"You requested an audience with me." Mr. Carter begins, voice stern.
"Yes sir." He answers, keeping his cool. Tried to. He places a thick folder on the table.
"I am the new chairman and owner of Hale Manufacturing. We produce specialized industrial fittings used in agricultural equipment."
Mr. Carter nods once, silently watching him. No, studying.
"When my parents died, I was too young to take over so it was given to my uncle to manage until I turned twenty. He embezzled funds. Mismanaged everything. By the time I took control, the company was already collapsing."
Mr Hale's voice softens. "I've spent the last two and a half years trying to rebuild it. But with all the debts, clients leaving and investors pulling out one after the other, I'm fighting a losing battle."
I felt sorry for him. He must still be in school. I know the burden of such responsibilities. No wonder he looks exhausted mentally.
"I am yet to be convinced why I should invest in you. I do not bid my money on lost causes." He says voice void of any emotion.
"I believe, with a good investment, we can manage to finish the current pending orders, helping us to retain the few clients we currently have. After we re-establish, we will launch new products into the market to draw back clients we've lost and even attract new ones."
"How much did your uncle embezzle?"
"Ten million dollars over six years."
"Continue."
Mr. Hale opens his own folder and pushes a set of documents across the table.
"We're currently operating at thirty percent capacity. We lost several major clients because we couldn't maintain production after the final damage."
"How many employees? Before and after the losses." He asks, barely looking at the papers.
"Two hundred and thirty-seven before losses and one hundred and ninety-seven after losses. Most left because of budget cuts."
"Debt? Assets?"
"Two point three million debt and approximately eight million in equipment and property."
Mr. Carter finally pulls the documents closer, eyes roving over the page.
"How old is your equipment line?"
"Most of it was upgraded before the embezzlement started."
Mr. Carter leans back, and that is the first time I see something change in his expression. Interest.
"Your uncle, where is he?" he asks.
"Prison. Sir, I know that it sounds promising, but we would really benefit from your investment. My workers rely on me and most of them have been with us ever since we started. They have families to take care of and we are their source of livelihood. If I let the company fail, they lose everything."
Now that touches me. He isn't doing this to retain his wealth; he is doing this for the people who depend on him and his company. How kind of him. Mr. Carter continues flipping through pages, letting the silence stretch on for a while.
Mr. Hale shifts nervously in his seat and he finally looks up.
"Your biggest former client, who were they and why did they leave?"
"Greenfield Agricultural Systems, delayed orders."
"How long before you could meet their supply demands again?"
"With capital investment, approximately six months."
"Emotion is not a business strategy, Mr. Hale." He begins, tapping on the document lightly. "But, loyalty in a workforce can be valuable."
Mr. Hale straightens a little.
"You have potential. You know the workings of your company inside and outside. After the losses you had the option of firing your employees instead you reduced their salaries. You didn't fire anyone even after the losses kept coming and that says a lot about the type of person you are."
He places the document back on the table and leans back, crossing one leg over the other.
"I like companies like yours. Businesses with strong foundations that have failed because of mismanagement rather than market failure." He studies him for a beat.
"But investment is not charity." Mr. Hale nods quickly.
"Of course."
"I would require forty percent equity."
Mr. Hale freezes.
"That's−"
"Non-negotiable." Mr. Carter's voice doesn't waver. "I would also appoint a financial controller and two operational advisors."
Mr. Hale hesitates.
"Without my involvement your company will likely close within eighteen months. And by then you will need to let go of most of your staff." The words were blunt.
"Think about it. Consider my offer carefully. If you agree I expect you to send the full financial reports to my office. Afterwards my assistant will email you the necessary documents for you to sign." He says and stands up, Mr. Hale following suit.
"I will, sir. Thank you for your time." They firmly shake hands and Duncan leads him outside.
Mr. Carter resumes his place, picking up his glass. The room suddenly felt very quiet. I look at him, really look at him. The calm. The control. The way he dismantled a business proposal piece by piece without losing composure.
It is unsettling.
And impressive. Who is he?
He takes another sip of his wine and glances at me, for the first time since after he turned me into his wine server.
"You were listening." He comments.
I swallow, trying to decipher if he is trying to get me.
"A little."
A corner of his mouth lifts. Of course, he finds my discomfort amusing.
"Then tell me something, do you think I should invest. I gave him room to decide whether to accept my proposal or not but I am the final say. So, I'm asking you. Keep in mind that my millions are on the line."
"Why are you asking me? With all due respect." I add, remembering my job was on the line because of him, "The last time I gave my thoughts I was told off and reminded to remember my pace, a mere housekeeper."
"You seemed to have strong opinions about businessmen the other day. I'm consulting."
If he is asking me what I think just to tell me off, there will be hell to pay, my job be damned.
"I think you should invest." I begin quietly, hesitating for a few beats before continuing, "He seemed to be genuine. At least his intentions are. He cares about the workers and as you said, it speaks a lot about him. He is worth the risk."
"Will that be all?" I ask when he didn't talk. He nods once and I leave, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding.
That was intense.
⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎
My shift at the bar started at six.
By nine the place was packed.
Music thumped through the speakers, glasses clinked and people shouted over each other.
I serve another round of drinks to a table of obnoxiously loud men, who are clearly already drunk.
"Hey sweetheart." The man nearest to me greets. I offer a tight-lipped smile, not indulging him.
"Come on," he insists, "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be wasting time serving drinks."
I sigh internally, here we go. I finish serving and turn to leave when he catches my arm, pulling me towards him.
"You should be sitting on a rich man's lap." He says loudly, his face too close for my liking. I smile, stepping away from him.
"I'm sorry," I say tilting my head lightly, "Are you the rich man in this scenario?"
His friends burst out laughing and his smile falters.
"That's disappointing." I add, voice laced with distain.
The laughter gets louder and they are straight-on howling at this point.
"Damn." One friend says.
"She got you good." Another adds.
The man's face darkens. His ego was wounded. I begin retreating, getting away before he throws a temper tantrum for being rejected.
"If that is all gentlemen," I say and leave. I decide to man the counter, putting a barrier between me and any other drunk man. I am in no mood to fight them off. Just a few more minutes and I'll be done.
"One of the guests in the VIP rooms has ordered a bottle of Ace of Spades. Room 400." The waitress says and I go to the back to retrieve the bottle.
I place it on a cart, along with two glasses and wheel it towards the elevator. I wheel the cart towards the room, exhaustion consuming me.
I feel movement behind me and I am assaulted by the pungent smell of alcohol before I can even make out who it is. A hand is roughly slapped on my mouth and another wraps itself around my waist, trying to lift me but failing. But that didn't stop him from dragging me.
I try to claw at his hand but I do little to no damage. My screams are muffled by the palm on my mouth and the only thing I can do is thrash, hoping someone can sense the commotion and come to my aid.
He turns us, trying to push me into a room that was unlocked, I try resisting but he overpowers me, pushing me into the room and shutting the door behind him.
Oh no.
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.