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Page 6 of Clock Strikes Paradise (Island Escapes #4)

Chapter Five

Clay

I adjusted the knot of my silk tie, the vibrant aqua a stark contrast to the crisp white of my custom-tailored Zegna shirt.

And I liked the subtle nod the tie gave to my surroundings.

My gaze drifted toward the sliding glass door, where the landscaping lights glinted off the surface of my private pool.

It had been less than an hour since I’d emerged from those cool, turquoise depths, and it had been just what I needed.

Especially after discovering it was long enough for swimming laps.

I turned from the window to survey the living room of my two-bedroom cottage.

The spacious room was a harmonious blend of modern elegance and tropical charm.

White walls and polished wood floors created a sense of airiness, while the pale-blue sectional sofa and oversized armchairs invited relaxation.

A vase overflowing with fresh tropical flowers sat on the coffee table, filling the air with a subtle fragrance.

A solid wood dining table and chairs sat to one side of the area.

Large sliding doors opened onto the private patio with an expansive ocean view, but right now my focus was on the task at hand.

I ran a hand over my neatly styled hair, the strands already drying into their usual precise order. Despite the long day, my reflection in the full-length mirror was the picture of a successful CEO—confident, powerful, and ready to conquer the world.

The insistent buzzing of my phone interrupted my moment of self-assessment. I ignored it for a moment, savoring the luxurious quiet of the cottage. But the buzzing persisted, a, insistent demand for my attention. I sighed, my brief respite over.

I crossed the room and snatched the phone from the side table, glancing at the screen. Nate. Of course. “Good evening,” I answered, my tone brisk and professional. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in with you, big brother.” As Nate’s voice sounded through the speaker, a wave of warmth washed over me. “Everyone arrive okay? You all settled in?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” I assured him as I settled onto the couch and stretched out my legs. “Bart, Elise, and I are in our respective cottages, and so are our two bidders. I have to admit, you were spot on about Calypso Key. The resort is impressive. You and Camille did a good job vetting it.”

“Damn right we did.” His voice held a dash of mischief I recognized instantly.

He and Camille had done quite a bit more than vetting on their trip to the resort a few months ago.

“Just trying to ensure you have an appropriate backdrop for conducting the biggest deal of your life. And to make sure my final official duty as front man for Podium goes smoothly.”

Younger than me by two years, my brother had been one of the most successful players in the NHL before a career-ending injury sent him into a tailspin he’d only recently dug himself out of.

And his role as chief public relations officer for Podium had also been in jeopardy, but that was all in the past now.

“Don't worry,” I reassured him, unable to keep a touch of pride from entering my voice. “I'm on top of my game. Every detail is planned to perfection.”

He paused for a beat before continuing, his tone shifting to one of gentle concern. “Don’t forget to take some time to relax, Clay. Even workaholics need a break once in a while, especially in paradise.”

“Nate,” I said, my voice taking on a sharper edge. “This is not a vacation. This is the most important business trip of our lives.”

He sighed. “Ease up. I understand—Podium is our baby, and especially yours. You’ve worked like hell to make it a success.” His voice softened. “But you’re starting to sound like one of our investors.”

“I did swim in my pool earlier. Is that sufficient relaxation for you?”

I could practically hear his eyeroll. “Oh, stuff it. No, a ten minute lap swim—which is what I’m sure you did—isn’t what I had in mind. There’s no need to be all business, no joy.”

I scowled that he’d pegged me so well. I poured a glass of Macallan whisky from the bottle sitting on the coffee table.

The resort had left the bottle in my room as a welcome gift.

As I lifted it, swirling, the amber liquid caught the light, releasing a smoky, seductive scent. “I don’t need joy. I need to succeed.”

“You will succeed,” he said, his usual light tone turning serious. “You always do. Doesn't mean you need to drive yourself into the ground in the process. ”

I softened a little. My brother always knew how to push my buttons, but he was also my biggest supporter. I took a sip of the Macallan, the smooth, peaty whisky warming my throat. “I'll find a way take a break or two. Do some exploring.”

“Need me to fly down early to make sure you actually do it?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No. I don't need a babysitter,” I snapped back, but a whisper of a smile tugged at my lips.

“Just looking out for you, brother.”

“Of course you are,” I said, my tone mellowing. “But I've got this under control.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “So what's on the agenda for the next few days besides wooing our buyers?”

Ha! This should please him. “I’ve arranged a private scuba diving excursion for tomorrow morning. Bart and Elise are joining me.”

A stunned silence crackled through the phone line.

Then Nate burst out laughing, the sound loud and echoing in the quiet of my cottage.

“Seriously? You’re taking Elise and Bart diving?

Great, an excursion with your assistant and our monumental asshole of a CFO!

Your idea of downtime leaves something to be desired, brother. ”

I silently agreed with his assessment of Bart but remained silent on the matter. “I want to ensure my team has an opportunity to enjoy themselves. A little team bonding never hurts.”

“Team bonding, huh?” Nate’s laughter subsided into a low chuckle. “Let me guess, you’ll be discussing quarterly reports and profit margins on the dive boat?”

“We might,” I said dryly. “Unless Elise manages to distract us with a SWOT analysis of the dive operator’s competitive landscape. ”

“Ouch,” Nate replied, a wince clear in his voice. “I’m surprised you even included her.”

“She’s an employee,” I said, a touch of defensiveness creeping into my voice. “And part of the team.”

“Right,” Nate said slowly. “A gear in the machine.”

I frowned, and my arm froze with the glass of whisky halfway to my mouth. “What are you trying to say, Nate?”

He sighed. “Maybe you should view the people who work for you as, you know, human beings. Not just pieces on a chessboard.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Elise hasn’t used her dive certification yet, so I figured she’d enjoy the experience. And I’m including Bart too.”

“It means you can be a real asshole.”

“Oh, shut up!” I snapped. “I'm paying for them to enjoy a lavish tropical getaway, complete with gourmet meals and side excursions. I even upgraded Elise to a beachfront cottage, for God’s sake.”

A long beat of silence followed. “Oh, so she’s right next door to you, huh?” A knowing amusement crept into Nate’s voice.

My face flushed, and I frowned, unaccountably flustered. “The decision was entirely logical. Elise has been working nonstop on this deal. It was simply a way to acknowledge her hard work and dedication.”

“And that’s all it was? Just… acknowledgement?”

Confusion, followed by a flash of irritation, coursed through me. “What else would it be? She’s my assistant, Nate, not my girlfriend.”

“Haven’t had one of those in a while, have you?”

“No. Because I’ve been working on the biggest deal of our lives. Remember?”

“Uh-huh. And now we’re back to the fact that you seriously need to loosen up and enjoy yourself a little. And stop treating people like they’re disposable.”

“The three of us are going diving tomorrow. In crystal clear, tropical water. Does that sound like I’m a tyrant?”

“Oh yeah, you’re a real soft touch, Clay,” he replied, a grin lacing his voice. “I bet hanging out with their billionaire, driven boss is exactly what Bart and Elise have in mind when they think about enjoying themselves. Living the dream, man.”

Despite myself, I burst out laughing and all my irritation dissolved. “You’re such a dick, Nate.”

“That’s why you love me,” he replied with a laugh. “I keep it real, whether you like it or not. Listen, I’ve got to run. Camille is waving a running shoe at me, and I bailed on our last run. So I’ve got no excuse this time. We’ll see you in a few days. Enjoy yourself tomorrow, okay?”

“I will. Enjoy your run,” I said, already picturing Camille’s stately but slightly rundown Connecticut farmhouse that stood next to our childhood home.

Despite Nate’s self-deprecation, his blown-out knee was healing well, and he could outrun me any day of the week without even trying. “See you both soon.”

I ended the call, and the warmth of our exchange faded, leaving a familiar sharp edge in its wake.

As I set the phone down on the side table, my smile vanished.

I rose and approached the mirror, adjusting my cuffs and smoothing my suit jacket.

Gone was the playful brother, replaced by the man who built a multi-billion-dollar empire.

I was Clay Harmon, CEO of Podium, which was only a part of Harmon Enterprises. And I was ready for battle.