The alternative is… Well, there’s no alternative. He’s my only chance.
Everyone else is too busy to check on my parents during the mornings—which is why they put me in charge of that shift. Unlike my siblings and my cousins, I don’t have a partner, children, or a business to take care of, and therefore I am the one assigned to the early time slot.
It serves me just fine. I have an excuse to ignore Henry for a couple of hours, and I can spend time with Mom and Dad while it’s just the three of us. It can get pretty noisy when everyone else is visiting them.
By nine in the morning, I’m in the car service on the way to the hangar when my phone rings. It’s Blaire.
“Hey, chica!” she greets me. “How are you?”
“You sound too happy,” I state.
“Henry just told me you’re on your way home,” she says excitedly. “Of course, I’m happy. I get to spend more time with you. Plus, my man just brought me breakfast in bed.”
“Croissants and a tea latte?” I guess.
“No,” she answers. “The baby hates croissants…and me. I’m drinking ginger tea and toast.”
“The baby doesn’t hate you, babe,” I hear Hayes, her dreamy fiancé, reassure her. “Hurry up so we can go for a walk around town.”
“No run today?”
“Until I stop puking half of what I eat, I am not allowed to run. Doctor’s orders,” she informs me, and her voice carries some annoyance.
I’m pretty sure the doctor she’s talking about is Hayes. I’m glad he is the one limiting her physical activity.
“If you were your doctor, you’d be doing the same,” I state. Last weekend she almost fainted during our morning run, scaring the crap out of me.
She sighs. “That’s not why I am calling.”
“Do you need me to bring you something from New York or Portland?”
“Yes, can you please drop by the P.O. Box we have in Portland? There’s a package that I need urgently,” she mumbles the last words. “I tried to get your boss to do it for me, but he said he can’t make frivolous trips.”
I chuckle, “Sure. I can pretend that I sent something this week for myself. I’ll tell him it’s feminine products to make him feel uncomfortable. Anything else?”
“No, I—”
“Hey, are you on the phone with Sophia?” Henry interrupts her. “Give me that phone, I need to speak to her.”
“Nope, I’m talking to my mother. You can always speak to Mom and get some tips about morning sickness and sex during pregnancy,” she lies, and I chuckle when he grumbles.
There’s a clicking sound on the other line and when I check, it’s Henry calling me.
“I need to go. He’s already on the other line,” I complain.
“Good luck,” she says before hanging up.
Once the line goes dead, I remember about the amendments to the will. How did I forget to ask about them? Whatever they changed will affect me. What if Henry can come back to New York?
While I’m on the phone with him, I barely pay any attention to the conversation. He’s just confirming that I brought everything he requested earlier today. Like I can afford to make a mistake. He lives in a world where everything is black and white. One simple error can cost anyone their job—not that I allow it. I always find a way to keep those employees working for us. His rage is incomparable with any human I’ve ever met, but I don’t let him intimidate me.
Once I arrive at the airport, I say, “Mr. Aldridge, I’m about to board the plane. Do you need any further assistance?”
“No, just tell the captain he has his orders,” he informs me. “Have a safe trip, Ms. Aragon.”
Julian, the driver helps me with the boxes and my bag. After they set them inside the jet, I board it and give the pilot Henry’s message.
He rolls his eyes and walks to the cockpit. I take my seat, listen to the flight attendant give the usual instructions through the intercom, and once we’re thirty thousand feet above ground, she approaches me with a champagne flute and a tray.
“Bellini, strawberries, and a lightly toasted croissant,” she says, when she picks up the metal lid.
I stare at the plate and then look at her. “Thank you?”
It sounds better than how do you know that’s my favorite drink and that I love to eat strawberries while enjoying it, right?
“Mr. Aldridge requested them earlier today,” she explains without me prompting her.
I nod, intrigued and…impressed. Why would he bother ordering me…what is this, lunch?
A part of me wants to send him a message to thank him for being so thoughtful. The other part wants to ask what he wants from me. He’s never this nice. Ever.
I don’t bother doing either one because when I turn on my computer there’s an email from him with spreadsheets from Aldry’s Sweets. That’s the factory the Aldridge family founded in the early 1900’s. And my special project. Henry is an expert at giving me the problem children to fix.
William Aldridge let the place go, just like he did with The Lodge. That’s the hotel his family built last century to accommodate tourists and skiers. Saving them is proving to be more challenging than I expected at the beginning. Henry’s focusing on The Lodge, since he’s the hotel whisperer. It sounds like a joke, but he knows hotels like nobody else in the world. His life has always revolved around hotels and hospitality. He worked for his grandfather since the age of sixteen, starting from the bottom.
On the other hand, I’m stuck with the factory. He never said anything directly. The one time he hinted I’d be taking over was when he said, “Sophia, we need to go to the conference room. I need a human approach, because if it’s me, I’d sell the place and wash my hands of it.”
Needless to say, I had to explain to him all the reasons why firing half of the staff was not only wrong but counterproductive. Henry is a brilliant man, but sometimes he concentrates too much on the bottom line. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do the same with The Lodge. He fired a few people and demoted many more.
During my flight to Portland, I go through the reports he sent earlier. We’re purchasing new equipment, rebranding, and focusing on production for the next few months. Maybe I should stay until Monday so I can speak with the current director of operations. He doesn’t like to work outside office hours. With all due respect, the man is old school and should’ve retired twenty years ago. We need to hire new management. I never met William Aldridge, but sometimes I feel like he let everything go just to make this situation that much more difficult for his sons.
Once I land, I see the one and only Henry Aldridge. All six foot and some inches of him leaning against the hood of his Bugatti La Voiture Noire. He wears a dark blue pin striped suit. His dark brown hair is longer than usual; it almost touches his expensive sunglasses. He gives me a slight smile, which is uncharacteristic of him.
“Sophia,” he greets me with that thick, raspy voice that makes any woman who listens to him fall at his feet.
Not me.
“Henry,” I answer, nodding slightly toward his luxurious car. “I thought we were flying.”
“I chose to drive so I could pick up Blaire’s package before you arrived. Did you have a good trip?”