Rhett
The last thing I’d expected when arriving at my newest acquisition was a smart-mouthed siren dressed as a lifeguard, with dark eyes, blonde hair, and a wicked smile. Christ, she was lovely, and she had to be half my age.
“Mr. Sutton! Mr. Sutton, sir!” an annoying voice bellowed across the foyer of the country club.
I spun on the well-polished floor. A receptionist was beckoning me from the desk. “Yes?”
“There’s a call for you. It’s Miss Victoria. Her father must have told her you’d be here,” the receptionist prattled on. Anne, according to her name tag. “I’m sure she’s excited to speak to you.”
“And why would that be?” I asked sharply, irritation threatening to undo all the good that meeting Chloe, the firecracker, had done.
“Because you and she… you were… my goodness, I don’t know.”
“Phone,” I snapped, holding my hand out for the receiver. I’d given Anne enough time to dig her own grave.
I took the phone and brought it reluctantly to my ear. I didn’t want to hear Victoria’s voice. She was quick off her mark, I’d give her that. I’d been on her father’s former property all of twenty minutes, and she already knew where to reach me.
“Rhett, darling? I hear you’re in town,” Victoria said, her voice oozing warmth and genitality. Too bad I knew what a bitch she was.
“I wonder how you heard that so quickly?” I eyed Anne, who flushed terribly and pretended to be busy tidying papers.
“Good news travels fast, I guess. I suppose we should have dinner since you’re here.”
“I don’t see why. No need to spoil a perfectly good trip.” My tone was flippant, but I was serious as hell.
Victoria tutted. “Rhett, darling, if you don’t stop being sour over my breaking it off with you all those years ago, I’ll start to think you need me back.”
There was a threat if ever I’d heard one. I cleared my throat, annoyance building inside my chest and threatening to blow. “I’m not sour, Victoria. And I don’t know how you could break things off, considering we never really dated.”
“Very funny. You know my daddy thought we were going to get married.”
“Your daddy thinks a lot of stupid things. Are you finished?”
“I’ll come by for dinner around eight,” Victoria hurried to say.
“Well, have a good meal. It won’t be with me. Enjoy your evening,” I muttered and promptly hung up.
Anne watched me with wide eyes and scurried into the back office. I let out a long, pained sigh and tried to shake off the foul mood that coated me whenever I interacted with Victoria Blakely. The woman was borderline insane, and lately, that border had been razor thin.
Moving away from the reception, I headed toward the management offices, rotating my neck to work out the kinks from the drive. In good traffic, it should only take two hours. However, it was a sunny Friday, and everyone from New York was attempting to travel north toward beaches, countryside, and fresh air. Luckily, I was an early riser and had most of the traffic beat. Now, I could do with a vat of coffee and a quiet place to go over the accounts of the country club.
I’d acquired Hill Crest last year in a private transaction with Burke Blakely, an old family friend. It had been more of a charitable favor than anything else, considering the aging club was hemorrhaging money. Burke was having a fair bit of trouble himself and had turned to me to help. I’d helped him because I could and because the idea of having a peaceful retreat up north had seemed nice at the time. If I was completely honest, I also helped him because if anything stood a chance of impressing my father, it was taking over the country club he’d been a member of most of his life.
The small town of Hill View was quaint as hell, and my exceedingly wealthy family had grown up in a gated estate to the west of town. My father, a man as intimidating at eighty years old as he’d been at fifty, still lived in that same estate. I hadn’t visited in over a year. I should drop in since I was here, or I’d risk running into him at the club.
I knocked briefly on the manager’s door before pushing it open. A man younger than I expected jumped up from his desk. The plaque on the polished wood read: Evan Reid.
“Mr. Sutton! Welcome to Hill Crest.” Evan walked toward me, looking a little flustered. He held out his hand to shake, and I was pleased to note that his grip was firm. I hated a weak handshake.
“Thank you. Mr. Reid, is it?”
“Please, call me Evan. Everyone does.”
“In that case, call me Rhett.” I looked around the small, stuffy room. “Are you all alone in here?”
“Yes. I had an assistant, but unfortunately, she quit a little while ago. It’s been challenging,” he started and trailed off.
I landed a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. “I get it. Losing money and not having enough to afford an assistant is challenging. But don’t worry. I’m here now, and I’m going to whip this place into shape. You can help me, or you can hinder me.”
Evan flushed. “I want to help, Sir. I mean, er, Rhett. I love this job, and I want to be good at it.”
I could see that admission cost him. I’d read up a little on him. He wasn’t from the same part of town as the club members and had undoubtedly never been to the club as a member. He’d worked his way up at a young age by showing up and being professional. I wanted him to stay on.
“I’m glad to hear that, Evan. We’ll make a good team. Now, I need some coffee, the accounts, a list of all the employees, including their pay and positions, and your personal take on them. Let’s get down to business.”