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He made a mental note to call his brother once he got back to New York. Make that both of them. And neither call would involve discussing business. Matthew and he were in grave danger of becoming strangers. Time spent away working in Europe meant Bryce was losing that precious connection with his siblings. Their relationship had to be based on more than just the Royal family business. He’d jokingly taken Vivian to task over that same phrase, yet that was the exact outcome his current behavior was risking would happen.
Chasing one possible future, the one he was considering with Vivian, shouldn’t come at the cost of him putting the rest of his family to one side. She might not wish to be a part of his life if she thought his relationships with his brothers were dysfunctional.
The plane began to rattle, then dipped into a deep drop which took Bryce’s stomach a second or two to catch up. Overhead the seatbelt sign came on, following by the head flight attendant announcing. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your safety belts. Cabin service will be suspended for the time being.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bryce caught sight of Jonathan’s white knuckled hand gripping firmly to the arm rest. “It’s alright, this is a big plane, and the pilots will take care of us.”
He got a tight, thinly whispered, “I hope so, I hate flying,” in response.
Bryce took a deep calming breath. Years spent travelling the globe had given him a thick skin when it came to rough flights.
The plane dropped once more, and a gasp rolled around the cabin. Somewhere up the back, a baby started crying. It was soon joined by a chorus of other small children whimpering. Bryce offered Jonathan another smile, but his young friend didn’t see it. His eyes were screwed shut and his face had turned a horrid shade of gray.
“Cabin crew secure all lockers and take your seats,” announced the pilot. Things then escalated quickly, the plane was shimmying and shaking. The man on the other side of Bryce started saying his prayers.
He had been through a few rough plane flights in his life, but this one was moving fast into Bryce’s top ten list of horrible trips. It rocketed to the top of the charts with a loud BANG. A shudder heaved through the plane. Bryce reached out and took a hold of Jonathan’s sweaty hand, gripping it gently. He started counting slowly backward from one hundred.
An agonizing ten minutes later, the pilot came back on the air and announced they were diverting the plane to Jackson, Mississippi. Bryce Royal was about to add an emergency landing to his already drama filled day.
CHAPTERFORTY-FIVE
Thursday afternoon
Palm Beach, Florida
Vivian’s flight landed in Palm Beach, Florida without incident. Having smashed her way through three hours of foodie podcasts, she was in a far better mood than the one she had been in when she’d left Galveston. Thoughts of a bully billionaire were squashed underneath images of thick pasta sauce and creamy blue cheese. It gave her a temporary respite from the ache in her heart.
She even resisted the temptation to call Lionel. As editor of the magazine it was his task to deal with the lawyers. Her role was to focus on her job as a travel reviewer and deliver him a well-considered but enticing review.
After a short cab ride, she was soon standing at the check-in desk of the luxurious White Foam Breakers Palm Beach resort. Reviewers were not meant to play favorites, but Vivian could secretly admit to being thrilled at having scored this particular assignment. Few hotels could compare to the stunning renaissance revival hotel which dated back close to one hundred years. An earlier version of the main building had been the playground for some of America’s uber elite such as the Astor and Vanderbilt families during the roaring twenties. The new hotel was nothing short of luxurious.
An hour before they landed, Vivian had slipped into the cramped bathroom on board the plane and changed. Her comfy travel sweats and long sleeve top were now in her hand luggage. She wore a long sundress, patterned with simple yellow, white, and blue stripes. Her trusty plain sandals adorned her feet. As always, blending in was all part of a reviewer’s job.
Since she was travelling in the off season, between holidays, the magazine’s budget had been able to stretch just a little bit to afford her a two night stay. In the high season the room rates for this resort were several thousand dollars a day.
This was a much better option than having to go home to New York and lick her wounds. Or face her housemate. Grace was a great one for permitting Vivian a scant five minutes of comfort and pity, before she turned badass.
If her friend knew what was happening, she would be in the first cab down to Hudson Yards and on arrival would demand to see the head of Royal Resorts. One or more of Grace’s top-shelf lawyer friends would be trailing close behind.
Nope. Not happening.Much as she would privately enjoy Bryce being torn to pieces by a feral legal team, Vivian wasn’t going to lower herself to his level.
I am an adult, and I can fight my own battles. Lionel and the magazine lawyers will have to deal with Royal Resorts. Meanwhile I am going to go and dig my toes into the Florida sand. Anything to take my mind off Bryce.
“Good afternoon. Welcome to the White Foam Breakers Palm Beach resort.”
The front desk attendants were immaculately dressed and wonderfully efficient. She could swear there was not a single hair out of place on the head of the woman who had processed her corporate credit card. This was peak tropical Florida, home of the frizz—she had to ask. “How do you manage to keep your hairstyle so fabulous?”
A soft smile threatened at the corner of the woman’s mouth. “You are in suite 418. The elevators are over to your right. I shall summon a valet to deliver your suitcase.” She leaned forward and whispered, “There is so much product in my hair, a hurricane wouldn’t wrinkle it.”
The bellboy who showed her to her room gave Vivian a quick pointer on the amenities, and she handed him a tip. Whatever information he had imparted had gone straight in one ear and out the other. She barely noticed him closing the door. Her total focus was on the stunning view which greeted her out the expansive windows of her suite. The resort didn’t lower itself to having such basic accommodation as guest rooms.
The blue of the Atlantic Ocean. Miles of golden, sandy beaches. Vivian stood blinking at the sight. Her suite could have had its own Instagram account and millions would follow it.
As she crossed the floor to the window, her sandals didn’t make a sound on the plush cream carpet. Most hotels went with practical colors for their flooring, the White Foam Breakers didn’t give a damn about being sensible. The sort of guest who could afford to stay here wasn’t the kind to have a speck of dirt on the soles of their shoes. When she’d arrived there had been a long line of Maseratis and Bugattis parked outside on the concourse. If Planet Billionaire had a home, this was it.
“Don’t think of billionaires. They couldn’t give a damn about people like you.”
Her cell buzzed. Vivian waved the message away, refusing to acknowledge the real world.
