Graham had forgotten all about the tomatoes Chef had requested the day before, and he didn’t think about them again until he received a text from Scarlet asking him to see her in her office ‘at your convenience.’
At your convenience generally meant drop what you’re doing and get here right now, so Graham aborted the morning workout that he’d been planning on and hiked immediately to the top of the resort, not even bothering to change into his staff uniform first.
He wondered if that gave the wrong impression when Scarlet raked him with her glance and frowned. “Should I be expecting your resignation?”
For a moment, Graham was deeply confused. Then he remembered. Alice.
Not that he’d forgotten her for a single moment since he had laid eyes on her—her intoxicating hazel eyes, the defiant tilt of her chin, the waves of her sensible, short hair—but he hadn’t considered that Scarlet might not know that Alice didn’t want him.
Oh, she had wanted him, had answered his desire with her own passion and heat, but she hadn’t wanted him.
It’s not fate, she’d said flatly. Just leftover evolutionary crap or something.
And who could blame her? Graham was no prize. He offered her nothing.
Graham realized he was scowling at Scarlet and hadn’t answered her. “I’m not going anywhere,” he growled.
Scarlet raised an eyebrow at him. “Should I be finding a position here for Alice?” she prompted. “What are her qualifications?”
Graham gave a defiant shrug. “Don’t think she’s interested in moving here.” Hearing the words out loud was like a punch to the gut. He thought he’d made peace with it, but no part of him actually had.
Scarlet’s eyes went soft, which was the last thing Graham wanted or needed. “I’m... sorry to hear that,” she said gently.
Graham refused to lower his gaze, despite the discomfort hers always caused, and for once, she looked away first.
“What did you need?” he asked gruffly.
If he had not been staring at her, he would have missed the little sigh she gave, and the fall to her shoulders. “I wanted to know what yo
ur plans for the future were,” she said neutrally. “Because I am considering closing the resort and filing for bankruptcy, and if you were leaving that would simplify the decision.”
The defiance went out of Graham in a shocked, sympathetic rush. “You... can’t do that.”
“I don’t have a lot of choices,” Scarlet snapped.
“The lawsuit,” Graham guessed.
Scarlet picked up a heavy stack of paperwork and let it drop back to the desk with a thump. “The anticipated gift from the generous and benevolent Jubilee Grant.”
Graham frowned. “As bad as you thought?”
“Four hundred and fifty thousand for cancellations, loss and damages. Eight hundred and twenty thousand for mental anguish. As a bonus, a copy of a report to the Costa Rican government that we should be investigated for food sanitation violations.”
She moved that aside and picked up a manila envelope with a familiar logo on it. “As if that weren’t enough, Beehag’s asshole lawyer is trying to use the lawsuit as a reason to break our lease.”
Graham grunted. None of this was good news. “Can you fight it? Have you shown it to Jenny?”
“I haven’t told her yet,” Scarlet said, with a shake of her head. “It only came in this morning, and we have some time to formulate our responses. Let everyone enjoy the wedding without this hanging over their heads. I’m sorry to burden you with it.”
“It’s not a—” Graham broke off with a grunt of surprise as a small form bumped against the back of his calf and gave his ankle an affectionate rub. He didn’t bother to finished the sentence as the leggy, cream-colored cat walked into the room like she owned it and launched herself up onto Scarlet’s desk.
“Tyrant,” Scarlet greeted, as gravely as if she was a shifter and not a normal cat.
Tyrant had been a gift intended for Gizelle, but she had clearly chosen Scarlet as her primary companion, to the amusement of everyone at the resort... except Scarlet.
Tyrant gave a mrrr of greeting and tried to investigate the paperwork, reaching a paw for the shining closure on the manila envelope. Scarlet scooped her up from the desk and cuddled her in a brief, unexpected display of warmth, rubbing her cheeks and coaxing a whisker-quivering purr from the half-grown cat before setting her down on the wide window sill behind her. Several potted plants had been replaced by a cushion, and Tyrant blinked happily at the sunlight pouring in and began to groom herself, still purring.
When Scarlet turned back to Graham, her face was cool and serene again. “Please don’t say anything to anyone,” she said firmly, not really making it a request. “I haven’t made any firm decisions yet, and there’s no reason to put a pall over everything.”