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Alice Royal nodded at her husband. “Thank you, darling.” The matriarch of the Royal family had a hard and fast rule that business and family matters didn’t mix at the dinner table. She came from one of those old money New York families where it was considered impolite to mention business or wealth at social gatherings.
Bryce went back to his pesto coated chicken breast, grateful that the family chef had chosen to make his favorite dish this evening.
He could understand his mother’s position. It had been Christmas since the five of them had last been together, and these rare moments were to be treasured. There would be plenty of time tomorrow at the offices of Royal Resorts for the men of the family to thrash out their differences.
Seated next to Bryce, his youngest brother Matthew was uncharacteristically quiet. If anyone were to pick one of the Royal brothers as the effusive one, they would choose Matthew.
“Are you alright?” asked Bryce.
His brother gave a half shrug in response and muttered, “Ongoing Aspen issues.”
Matthew Royal was working on a top secret project. Royal Resorts planned to buy a derelict hotel in Aspen and tear it down in order to build a brand new resort. From what Bryce understood, they were close to securing a deal, but their resort design team were uncovering major planning issues, as well as a local town that didn’t want any more mega resorts on their doorstep.
“Let’s talk later,” whispered Bryce.
He had plenty of experience in dealing with planning problems. It seemed that every time his construction team lifted a rock in either Italy or France, they uncovered an ancient Roman ruin. Working within local laws while also winning over nearby residents took a degree of delicate finesse. He was grateful that Jordan wasn’t running the Aspen operation.
“Did you get to spend any time for yourself while you were in California, Bryce? You work so hard. I wish you would take a day or two off,” asked Alice.
Bryce turned and gave his mother a tight smile. He ignored his brother’s huff from across the other side of the table.
His mind drifted back to that glorious sun-drenched afternoon he’d spent by the pool with Vivian. And the long night of passion which they had shared. But he wasn’t about to mention that he had seduced a resort guest while he was on business. Especially not when his father was within earshot.
“No Mom, I didn’t. And yes, you are right, I do need to make some time for myself at some point.”
He didn’t add further to his comment. Alice Royal had made it plain that she was eager for grandchildren. All three of her sons were of an age where, according to her, they should be actively looking for their future life partners.
This was not the time nor the place to tell his mother that she was right. That over recent months he’d been thinking a great deal about his future. Of finding a woman to share not only his bed, but his name. He didn’t want to be a bachelor, he wanted to be a husband, and a father.
Vivian might have blown him off, but she had been right in stating that she believed love mattered. Perhaps he should sign up for the dating app that she had mentioned. He couldn’t be the only lonely billionaire in New York City.
I wonder if she is using the app?
It could potentially be a way to reach out and connect with her. Worst case, he could get to the bottom of why she had checked out the resort without telling him.
Forget it. Vivian clearly just wanted a night of sex. She got what she wanted and then left.
If only he could stop thinking about her.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
The Holte family home
Fresh Meadows, Queens
Saturday evening
“You could sue Pete, I’m sure that he has broken some credit card or finance law,” offered Brenda.
Vivian shook her head. She’d already been down that road with Grace. The money it would cost for her to take her ex to court would be greater than the amount she already owed the bank.
“I’ve cut my losses and moved on, Mom. Can you please pass me the towels?”
They were standing side by side in her mother’s laundry room, folding Vivian’s clean clothes and linen. Apart from the obvious difference in their ages, mother and daughter were the spitting image of one another. Both had straight, light brown hair, and greenish blue eyes. The family had a running joke about Vivian being her mom’s time travelling sister.
It was a weekly tradition for Vivian to make the trip out to Fresh Meadows, Queens to wash her things. The apartment she shared with Grace on the upper east side was in an older building and as much as things had been updated over time, the plumbing couldn’t handle the demands of modern washing machines.
The time involved in sitting in a public laundromat was beyond Vivian’s limits of patience. It was much simpler to get on a train and go out to the burbs and see her family. Her dad cooked a mean spaghetti sauce, and he always sent her home with a container of leftovers, so there was that as well.
