Page 76 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

“What do you want?” I ask.

“Is that any way to talk to family?” Conrad presses.

“When your family is trying to sue you, yes. I think it’s perfectly acceptable,” I tell him.

“Ouch. I see how it is,” he says, and I bite my lip in frustration. We just landed in Cabo San Lucas and, if I am being honest, this is the last thing I feel like doing right now. Because if I had to guess, this resort is going to have issues that need to be tended to, just like the other resorts have. I’d like to focus on that and then focus on the other half of the job–spending time with Scarlett.

“What do you want?” I ask again. Honestly, I am getting really tired of repeating myself.

“Nothing,” he lies with fake indifference. “I just wanted to say congratulations.”

There it is. It’s only been a few days since the proposal went viral from every angle imaginable, and if I had to guess, he’s not happy. Obviously.

“How sweet of you,” I say with literally no emotion in my voice. “Now, what do you really want?”

“You know, I find it interesting that in just the last couple of weeks you have started taking an interest in the hotels, visiting them, flying around the world, getting your perfectly manicured hands dirty. And falling in love to boot? How…convenient considering the state of things.” Conrad’s voice is dripping in sarcasm, and it’s thick as molasses. There are so many things about this jab that get under my skin. The tone. The manicure comment. I don’t, by the way.

“Listen. You’ve always said that I need to live a little. Loosen the tie. That’s what I’m doing. So, really, I have you to thank for that. For the success, the image change, the progress, my fiancée…” I rattle off because sometimes when you play chess with a jester, you have to have a sense of humor.

“Right. Because you listen to me so well,” Conrad says, and I can tell by the shift in his voice that his grin is slipping. “I just wanted to tell you good luck,” he says. “And to let you know that whatever you think your plans are, it’s not going to work. Stephen Galinski will see to that. I will see to that. You can’t walk around like a fucking dictator for 20 some years and then one day just show up thinking you still run the place. You may be the older brother but I am a Bale too. And while you sat in your air-conditioned offices paying other people to deal with your problems, I have been the one plane-hopping and managing the daily grind in person. All things considered, I think you’re playing a losing game, brother.”

“And the quality has slipped to an unacceptable degree,” I cut in calmly. “And Jason seems to think I have a pretty good case, all things considered. Especially considering I will be married soon. Also, don’t think I haven’t noticed certain ironies on my side as well. Obstacles if you will…”

“You think I’m fucking with your travel to make myself look better?” he scoffs.

“That. Or you really have just let things slide since they died,” I say.

And I know it’s a low blow. But I don’t really care at this point. I also don’t think that the negative comments, photos, articles and conditions at some of these places can be chalked up to irony.

“I’ll see you in court,” Conrad growls, and the line goes dead. I shove my phone in my pocket. I know how devious Conrad can be when he wants to be. He used to slash the tires on my car when he was a kid, mad because I had a car and he didn’t. He was 6. I’m also choosing to let Jason handle it. I have more pressing matters right now. Those matters being Scarlettt, who is headed my way through the lobby. Though she doesn’t have her usual charisma about her right now.

“Alright,” I say, clapping my hands together. “What’s first?”

Scarlett sighs, scrolling through her phone. “They want pool photos,” she says. “Bathing suit footage.”

“We can do that.” I nod. “The pool here is second to none. And it was just cleaned last night so it should be pretty–”

“Why do they always insist on seeing me in a bathing suit?” she blurts out, cutting me off. “I mean, I don’t want to sound vain, but like I swear there are trolls lurking in the shadows just waiting to say something about my body or–”

“Why?” I ask. “Did someone say something?”

“No,” she mutters. “Actually, I can’t find a single negative comment about the last time we were in the water. The beach photos have gone viral. But no negative comments.”

“That’s good, right?” I ask, not understanding the problem. But also, I’ve been checking the comments regularly, blocking everyone who so much as made a sideways comment. I’ve even had Donovan on troll patrol to cover more ground.

“It’s suspicious,” she says. “And if I had to guess, the assholes are lurking in the shadows. They’re probably the ones behind the requests for pool footage.”

“And here I thought people genuinely wanted to see Bale Resorts from the point of view of the owner and the world’s greatest travel blogger. Silly me,” I joke in an attempt to get her to smile. Because it’s not like Scarlett not to smile. And yet, she’s still not smiling. Not even a little bit.

My brow furrows at that. Whatever insecurity she is suddenly feeling is not okay with me. And honestly, it’s a little surprising. This woman’s entire existence is on camera. But I guess that camera is usually hers. Leaving her at the mercy of paparazzi and fans, and other random people has to be nerve-wracking. It takes away the control aspect of her image. And thanks to Conrad, I know firsthand how that feels.

Which means we just have to take control of the narrative.

“Change of plans,” I tell her, taking her by the hand. Meanwhile, I use my free hand to call Sebastian to bring the car around. “We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping?” she asks. And despite the fact that she is holding my hand, I have to tug her along.

“Yep,” I say as we approach the Escalade.