Liam's Pov
Elliot chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "I had an inkling you might propose this. You see, Liam, my dear departed wife had this… habit. She'd catch me red-handed, know exactly what I was up to, yet insist on hearing the words come out of my mouth. It used to irritate the hell out of me. But now, I understand. It forced me to confront the weight of my actions."
He leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. "Do you, Liam, truly understand the weight of your action?"
"I understand, sir," I replied, my voice firm. "And I understand the gravity of what I'm asking. But I have a vision for Carson Enterprises, a vision that requires a more… flexible approach than you've been willing to offer."
A cruel smile twisted his lips. "So, because you turned London Carson hotel into a gold mine, you think you can waltz in here and work your magic on American soil? This is a different beast, Liam. A far more unforgiving one." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Let me save you some time, son. I will never sell my shares. I owe it to your father, and frankly, to my grandchildren, to make sure you don't screw everything up."
Disappointment gnawed at me, but I refused to give up. "Thank you for your time, Mr. DuPont," I said, forcing a smile. "I sincerely hope you'll reconsider. My goal is to achieve what no Carson before me has. To truly make this company a leader in the industry."
A flicker of something, perhaps grudging respect, passed through his eyes. "Good day, Liam," he rumbled, offering a curt nod.
The gilded doors of Elliot Mason's private cabin swung shut behind me, the echo of his final "no" bouncing off the polished mahogany walls. The weight of rejection sat heavy in my chest, a suffocating counterpoint to the California sunshine mockingly streaming through the window. But giving up wasn't in my vocabulary. This was just a bump in the road, a detour. It's time for Plan B.
With a grim determination, I climbed back into the waiting car. "To the office, Martin," I instructed the chauffeur, my voice taut. As we weaved through the manicured grounds of the country club, I reached into my pocket and retrieved a burner phone. This wasn't a conversation I wanted anyone tracing back to me.
A single ring, then a gruff voice answered, "Hello!" came Coyote's familiar gruff voice on the other end.
"Coyote, it's Liam," I said, my voice dropping to a low murmur.
"Good morning, boss. What can I do for you, sir?"
"Straight to the point, I appreciate that," I said, a flicker of a smile gracing my lips despite the situation. "I need you to dig deeper. Much deeper. Into Elliot Mason." My father-in-law's name tasted bitter on my tongue.
"Consider it done, sir," Coyote replied, his voice devoid of surprise. He knew better than anyone the tangled web of secrets that often surrounded the wealthy and powerful.
"Leave no stone unturned, Coyote," I emphasized. "Financial records, business dealings, anything that might give me leverage."
A moment of silence followed, then, "Understood, sir. You'll have a report as soon as humanly possible."
I ended the call, a sliver of hope flickering within me. If Karen's father, the seemingly untouchable Elliot Mason, had a weakness, I needed to find it and exploit it. It was my only chance to free myself from their clutches.
—--------------------
Vanessa's Pov
The Los Angeles Carson Hotel loomed large against the morning sky as Charlie dropped me off. With a quick kiss goodbye, I stepped out, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Today was my first day as a waitress, and the nerves were definitely showing.
Inside, I found Paloma waiting, surprisingly punctual for her usual carefree self. Together, we slipped through the back entrance, a hidden world reserved for staff only. The locker room was buzzing with activity as we exchanged greetings and prepared for the day ahead.
Just as I slipped on my crisp waitress uniform, a short, stocky black man in a sharp black suit commanded everyone's attention. "For the new waitresses," he declared, his voice clipped and authoritative. "I'm Tony Dubois, the head of personnel. Hence I am your boss."
Paloma leaned in, whispering, "Short in stature, powerful in presence. What a weird combination."
I stifled a chuckle, catching Tony's steely gaze. He strode towards me, his presence filling the small room. "And you," he said, pointing at me, "what's your name?"
"Vanessa," I replied, trying to project a sense of confidence.
A flicker of something – surprise maybe? – crossed his face. "Vanessa," he repeated, savoring the name. "You have a charming smile, Vanessa. Too charming, perhaps." A beat of silence followed, making everyone in the room tense, except for a tall white lady wearing a waitress uniform standing beside him.
"Since you feel like interrupting my speech," he continued, his tone condescending, "I've decided on a special role for you today. You, Vanessa, will become our very own mermaid mascot."
I was pretty shook by this. "Mermaid mascot?"
"Indeed," he smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. "We're hosting a pool party this afternoon. You'll be perched atop an inflatable fish, serving drinks in a mermaid costume," he said and left the changing room, the tall lady followed suit. They both looked like an unlikely weird couple.
A wave of dread washed over me. The other waitresses exchanged nervous glances, their expressions painting a grim picture of what to expect from Mr Dubois. My first day on the job, and I could already tell my boss loathed me.
Paloma patted my arm apologetically. "Sorry I put you in trouble."
"It's fine," I mumbled, the optimism I'd carried that morning withering. We grabbed our uniforms, the playful banter in the locker room replaced by a tense silence.
**************
The afternoon arrived all too soon. I squeezed into the hideous, sparkly mermaid costume, the itchy fabric adding to my growing discomfort. Perched atop a giant, inflatable fish in the middle of the pool, I felt more like a spectacle than a waitress. Loud music pulsed through the air as guests, barely acknowledging me, stretched out their glasses for champagne. The whole experience was degrading, pulling at the last shreds of my dignity.
Then, amidst the cacophony, I saw him. Liam. A grin lit up his face, then quickly morphed into a look of concern. As I struggled to maintain my balance and serve drinks, a wave of nausea washed over me. My head swam, the pool water suddenly feeling like a hostile environment. The last thing I remembered before darkness claimed me was Liam's worried face approaching me with speed, his expression etched with alarm.