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Focus on the job at hand, Bryce.
From now, until the moment he set foot back on board the private jet, he wasn’t Bryce Royal, billionaire, he was simply Bryce Jones, another well-dressed guest who was about to check in to the Royal Resorts Laguna Beach for a few days of sun and relaxation.
He would maintain the business traveler façade, but all the while he would be keeping his eyes and ears open, looking for signs of trouble. He had a horrible feeling that if Jordan had indeed let standards slip, it wouldn’t take long for the resort’s shortcomings to make themselves known.
CHAPTEREIGHT
From behind the steering wheel of his car Bryce snatched glimpses of the front gardens either side of the main road which led into the Royal Resorts Platinum Collection, Laguna Beach. Everything seemed well maintained. The newly laid and painted road immaculate. He made a mental note to come back later and make a closer inspection of the grand sweeping driveway.
After a short drive from the airport he pulled up in front of the entrance a little after 2pm. A valet greeted him and took his car keys. Bryce tipped the valet just the right amount. Not too much that the guy would go talking to his friends about the guest in the designer suit, and not too little that he was branded a cheapskate by the resort team. Word about the big tippers tended to get about quickly. The last thing he wanted was for a small retinue of tip seeking resort staff to be haunting his every step.
Bryce stood with his luggage, watching as his hire car disappeared into the underground parking garage. He turned, expecting to find a luggage valet, ready to assist, but was disappointed to discover there was no one around to help. He was on his own with his bags.
Not a good start. Jeez Jordan, where are your people?
He hauled his own suitcase and bags through the front door of the resort. When he reached the check in desk, Bryce glanced at his watch. His Vacheron Constantin informed him he was a little early. Perfect. Here was a golden opportunity to put the resort reception team to the test. Would they let him into his suite, or would they hold fast to the three o’clock rule and make him wait? For the sort of money the resort charged for such a room, they shouldn’t so much as blink at his arrival time.
Janice had booked Mister Bryce Jones into a sea view private suite for three nights. Jones was actually his mother’s maiden name, and Bryce used it whenever he wished to travel incognito. Jones was the perfect surname. It was easy to remember, but common enough that no one paid it any mind.
The front desk clerk ignored him for a moment. He was making an intent study of his computer screen. He should have at least acknowledged a guest. Bryce’s temper spiked, hot. This was not how Royal Resorts operated.Guests are our lifeblood.
That refrain was tattooed into his brain. From day one of working in the family business, his father had pressed on all his sons the golden rule, the guest experience was everything.
Make the guest feel special. First impressions, people. Come on, greet me properly.
He cleared his throat, and the clerk finally lifted his head. It took only a second or two for the man’s gaze to take in Bryce’s expensive suit and the limited designer sunglasses hanging leisurely from the front of his pristine cream linen shirt. Were those dollar signs in the clerk’s eyes?
Bryce slid his black credit card across the counter. “I have a booking for three nights. I would like to check into my room now please.”
He was following the valet and his luggage to his suite within a matter of minutes.
CHAPTERNINE
Vivian was seated in the back of the Uber when her phone rang. She grabbed it out of the side pocket of her bag, took one look at the name on the screen and quietly swore.
What could Pete possibly want to say to me after every shitty thing he’s done?
She blamed curiosity for giving into temptation and answered the call. “What do you want, Pete? Please don’t say more money because you have already taken enough. I don’t have anything left.”
The seductive voice of the man who had smashed her heart to pieces drifted down the line. “Oh come on babe, I thought you would enjoy my parting gift.”
His parting gift. I’m the one whose credit card got charged.
She focused her gaze on the floor, not daring to check if the driver was eavesdropping in on the conversation. Of course he was, if she was driving a car and her passenger took a call like this one, she would be listening.
“I can’t afford a thousand dollars of dental work, so why would you think I’d be happy to waste my money on a dating app for millionaires? Sorry, the super wealthy,” she snapped. The home screen of the app had made it clear that the word millionaire was beneath the kind of people who had no issue with handing over a thousand dollar a year annual subscription fee. Vivian couldn’t begin to imagine what having that sort of money would even look like.
Pete’s smooth voice transformed into a dirty chuckle. “Aww, Vivian. Honey. I was only trying to help. Guys like me are hard to get over. I’m sure there are plenty of men with nice fat wallets just waiting to find a girl like you.”
The word sucker was implied. Vivian sighed. “You do know I can’t get the money back.Asshole.As soon as you completed the profile information using my name, and agreed to their terms, the contract was binding. And what about the rest of my money, when am I going to see that again?”
Silence hung on the other end of the line, and for the briefest of moments she held out hope that Pete might feel bad enough about what he had done and actually offer to pay her the money back.
“Yeah, the money is all gone, and I’m a bit short on cash at the moment. I sent you the login and password for the dating app. I did you a favor. You should be thanking me. But look at it this way babe, you now have a whole year to find a guy who can give you the money. Though you might have to earn the cash through services…” A rough laugh floated down the line.
“You fucking asshole. Do you have any idea…Pete? Pete?” The bastard had hung up on her.
Breathe. Breathe. He’s gone. Next time don’t pick up his call. Better still, block his number.
