I know what he means. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell him with a slight grimace. “I couldn’t care less if it’s my birthday.”
My mind goes to a headline from one of the news magazines I saw this morning. Hotel magnate turns twenty-nine! it screamed above a picture of me leaving some event.
Hotel magnate.
When did that become my name?
“I’m just glad we’re having dinner together.” I continue as Aidan empties his glass. “Next week I’ll be in San Francisco, and you’ll be knee-deep in the murky depths of perfecting your play.”
“You’ll be here for opening night, though.” Suddenly he looks like a child again, hopeful. Is Daddy coming back?
I blink then chuckle, banishing the memory. “Of course.”
He grins. “If it bombs, at least you’ll be there to take me to a place where I can get well and truly wasted.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t bomb.”
“Well if it does, I want to wake up in a suite in Vegas with no memory and at least three call girls who won’t care that I’ve forgotten their names.”
Laughing softly, I swirl the wine around in my glass. “If everyone got that after a bad show, we’d see more of them.” I watch as Aidan’s eyes find the slender waitress again. “Call girls? You must be losing your touch.”
He turns back to me and grins. “Maybe I’ve learned that the only women who understand the term no strings attached are those who expect to get paid.”
He may have a point. My mind goes to my last, recently ended sexual connection. Cecily Feinstein, a curator at a prominent private gallery. Dedicated to her career, detached, and uninterested in a romantic commitment—just the type of woman I prefer.
That lack of interest only lasted three months before the usual questions began.
Where are we going with this?
Where do you see our relationship going?
And finally, the ultimatum. She asked me to commit to her or lose her, so I went with the second option. I don’t like hurting women, and the sheen of tears in her eyes when she told me she hoped she never saw me again still feels like an indictment.
She’ll get over it. For women like her, it’s not the man that matters, but what he represents—the money, the prestige, the diamond ring. Some other guy will tick those boxes for her soon enough, and I’ll find someone else and enjoy what I can get before the demands for commitment get unbearable.
“You have a point,” I tell Aidan. “At least with a hooker, everyone gets what they expect.”
He chuckles, and when he looks at me, there’s a familiar, mischievous glint in his eyes. “I might just get you one as a birthday present,” he says. “To make up for forgetting.”
I wouldn’t put it past him. “Thanks, but I’m sure I can manage.”
He only shrugs. “Whatever you say.”
My apartment is at the top of the Swanson Court Hotel in Manhattan, a luxurious three thousand square feet of space I don’t need, beautifully spread out over two floors. It’s vast and silent, and while the sense of solitude it provides can be overwhelming to others, I like it. I’ve never been the kind of man who’s afraid to be alone.
Outside, the city is a mass of shapes and light. Up here, I can’t hear the cars and people, but I can hear the wind, whistling and forceful.
Forceful. The word dances around my mind. Forceful, ruthless, single-minded—words the press love to use when they describe me. Cold, heartless, unfeeling—the words the women prefer. Words that reduce me from Landon Alexander Court, brother, friend, and whatever else I am, to just hotel magnate.
Do I mind? Not really. I’ve been too busy planning how to expand the scope of what my father left to me and working to engrave the name of Swanson Court in every mind interested in luxury living—and even those who are not. I have expanded what my great-grandfather built and made it greater than he, my grandfather, or even my father ever dreamed.
So, yes, I am single-minded. I am forceful. I am determined. I rescued Swanson Court from the brink of bankruptcy when my father died, and I am pushing further than even he ever dared to imagine. If ruthlessness is what it takes, I’ll be ruthless, with pride.
Taking a sip from the brandy in my hand, I listen to the ice cubes clink against the glass as I lower it from my lips. Against the silence, I can almost hear the sounds from my memories—this now quiet apartment filled with light and laughter. My parents, the way they used to be a long time ago. Aidan, running around and sneaking off to torment hotel staff by showing up in places he wasn’t supposed to be. Love and family.
All that’s left of that now is me and Aidan, now a man, no longer the reckless rebel he used to be.
Thinking of my parents again, I drain my glass and turn away from the windows, suddenly restless. I need a woman, if only to distract me from the past. Cecily would have been perfect, but I can’t call her now. The last thing I want is for her to imagine that her ultimatum is working. I’ll have to find someone else, someone who won’t be interested in commitment, at least not for a while.