Page 245 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

WEST

M ontreal is a delightful city, but I'm happy to be back home.

I get into my office on Friday morning a little before seven, which is earlier than normal for me. My assistant Reena, who is already at her desk, looks up with a raised eyebrow. “I thought your flight landed at midnight,” she says. “I didn’t expect you in until ten.”

“I couldn't sleep. I thought I might as well come in and get caught up before Seoul.”

There's a coffee station next to Reena’s desk.

I head there and pour myself a cup, ignoring the box of donuts on the counter.

Reena waits for me to finish and then follows me into my office.

“You have a busy day today,” she says, handing me a printed copy of my schedule.

“Everyone wants to see you before you head out.”

“No surprise there. It’s not often Rob and I are gone at the same time.

” I scan the sheet of paper in front of me.

Reena’s right; it’s a busy day. I’ve got back-to-back meetings starting at ten and finishing at six.

Marketing is unveiling their new ad campaign.

Jennine Burman wants to discuss the next set of acquisitions.

Asif Shroff and Eunice Kim want to go over the Korea documents.

Eunice will travel with us to Seoul, but she undoubtedly wants to make sure we’re ready.

We’ve waited a very long time to enter the Korean market.

It’s taken us years to scout the perfect set of properties to buy, and everyone is a little on edge.

Me too. Although Seoul is only one reason I’m restless this morning.

For someone that co-owns a hotel chain, I don't really like to travel all that much. I used to do a lot more of it when I was younger, but I’m thirty-seven, and the attraction has worn off.

I enjoy waking up in my own bed, and I like grabbing coffee at my usual coffee shop on my way to work.

Rob jokes that I’m getting set in my ways, and he’s not wrong.

Still, I'm glad I'm going to be in Seoul for the next two weeks. Because Korea has one very important advantage over New York.

Mel won’t be there.

Fucking Paris. I've never thought of the city as a particularly romantic destination, tourist brochures be damned. The French capital is too much of a big city. Too crowded, too filled with tourists. But that one night in Paris when Mel and I reached for the bottle of wine at the same time.

She works for you, asshole.

She does work for me, which makes my attraction more than a little inconvenient.

I have no desire to end up blasted all over social media for making a pass at my subordinates.

I don’t want the publicity. And I’m not the type of asshole who sexually harasses my employees. That’s not how I live my life.

The attraction had gotten so bad that I started dating Donna out of a sense of self-preservation.

Unsurprisingly, that had been a disaster.

Donna deserved better than to date someone who was desperately besotted with another woman.

We went out a few times, but she's not a stupid woman and could sense that my heart wasn't in it. I never even tried to get her into bed, for fuck’s sake.

“By the way,” Reena says. “Amelia sent me an email yesterday. She wanted fifteen minutes with you and Robert. I figured she could just pop in between meetings, but since you’re already here, do you want to meet her this morning before the advertising team?”

I hear Mel wants to meet with Rob and me, and for a second, my brain goes straight to the gutter. She’d looked at Rob for a moment too long when she thought we weren’t paying attention. She wanted both of us that night; I’m sure of it.

Once again, she works for you, asshole.

“Mel wants to meet both Rob and me? What about?” Is it about Venice? It can't be. Mel got back from Italy on Monday, and she’s already sent me an email summarizing the issues there.

“She didn’t say. Do you want me to find out?”

“No, I’m sure she’ll fill me in. She’s usually in at nine, right?” Mel’s going to want to grab a couple of cups of coffee before she’s ready to talk to anyone. “I’ll see her at half-past. Can you let Rob know too?”

“Let me know what?” Rob looms in the doorway. I wave him in, and he takes a seat across from me. “Don’t mind me, Reena.”

“I was just about done.” She smiles at him. “You want me to get you a cup of coffee?”

“I’m good, but thank you for offering.” Rob waits for Reena to leave and then surveys me. “Xavier’s fundraiser is this weekend.”

“Fuck. I forgot all about it.”

“Are you planning on attending?”

I don’t want to. I want to stay at home and brood.

I don’t want to go to a damn party. I don’t want to mingle.

I don’t want to make polite conversation.

And I sure as hell don’t want to flirt with anyone.

But Xavier Leforte’s team always throws one hell of a party.

The cervical cancer fundraiser is a masquerade ball.

The energy is electric. People show up, masked and hidden, ready to throw their inhibitions to the wind, and sexual desire hangs thick in the air.

I can’t be a hypocrite because I’ve enjoyed myself in previous years. I might not always end up in bed with someone, but there is a certain thrill to the chase that I like. There’s something about the club's atmosphere that makes it seem like anything could happen—a sense of magical possibility.

I'm sure this ball will be as good as any of the previous ones, if not better. Club M is still as alluring as ever. The amenities are still top notch, the safety protocols are still impeccable, and the entertainment will be amazing.

It’s not the club that has changed. It’s me. I don’t want to flirt with a stranger; I certainly don’t want to bed her. I want. . .

Mel.

She is off-limits. She is forbidden.

Rob’s waiting for me to answer. “I guess,” I say unenthusiastically. “It's for a good cause, after all.”

Rob shoots me a sharp look. “It’s not like you to dismiss this particular fundraiser. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.” I’m not the only one attracted to Mel. Rob is too. Not that we’ve ever discussed it, of course; Mel is off-limits. Rob hides it well, but I’ve known him for a very long time.

He wants her. I want her. Every single time I'm in a room with her, my brain spins one impossible what-if scenario after another. What if Mel’s phone had never rung that night?

What if her mother hadn't had a heart attack? What if we’d stayed exactly where we were?

Would she have made a move? Would she have picked one of us?

Would she have picked both?

Enough, Fontaine. Cut this shit out.

“Are you going?” I ask him.

“I said I would.” He grimaces. “It seems like a dick move to back out in the last minute. I would much rather head to Connecticut.”

“Are you bringing a date?”

His face wipes clean of expression. “No.”

Someone knocks on the door. I look up, and Mel sticks her head in my office. Today, she’s wearing a leaf-green sweater over dark jeans. She’s tied her hair in a loose ponytail, and strands are already escaping. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and her lips?—

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting,” she says. “Reena sent me a note about a nine-thirty meeting, but I have a conflict, so I thought I’d swing by.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Rob says. “Come on in, Mel. What’s up?”

She enters my office, shuts the door behind her, and takes a seat. Her back is straight, and she looks uncomfortable, like she’d rather be anywhere but here. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” she says.

What the hell? “Why so formal, Mel? You know we always have time for you.”

She picks at her nails, a sure sign that she’s stressed. Rob lifts an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

She pulls open the folder she’s carrying and extracts an envelope from it. She hands it to me without meeting my eyes.

I don’t have a good feeling about this.

“Mel?” I prompt.

“I want to let the two of you know I accepted another job offer,” she blurts out. “This is my official letter of resignation.”

She's quitting?