Page 19 of Negotiation Tactics

“We need to find Alistair,” I say, reminding us of our objective.

“Yeah. Uh… He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

We circle the hall twice, but fall short. Alistair is nowhere to be found. Irritation blooms in my chest, a headache following suit.

“Josh, hey, over there.” Lily nudges me in the shoulder.

I follow the direction she’s looking in, smiling from ear to ear when I spot our target chatting with someone by the high table with the flower vases.

Bingo.

Alistair looks impeccable. He’s donned a cream dress shirt and a pair of dark green slacks, both tailor-made if the way they hug his body is anything to go by. He’s also not alone. Two men accompany him, talking as animatedly as he is. The one with the unbuttoned Hawaiian, auburn hair and massive shoulders I recognize as Brady Sanders, a gym celebrity who also works for Devon Holidays. I’ve no idea who the second man is, and I forget all about him soon enough as my attention shifts back to Alistair.

He’s unfairly gorgeous, like a fairy prince. But I know it’s only a façade, a trick on the outside, because underall that glam hides a bad boy who likes to get what he wants. Who likes to take charge and make a mess of you just because you opened your smart mouth.

I pull on my lip as a stroke of heat rushes through me. Now is not the time to revisit our encounter, but it’s very hard to make the memory go away, to stop it from assaulting my core and making me remember how good it felt to be at Alistair’s mercy.

No, Josh. You decided you are over him. He’s the enemy. Put on your big boy pants and stick to the plan.

The deep inhale I take does little to make the agitation within me subsite. It’s like I am standing at a precipice, ready to plunge into the deep water. I know I shouldn’t do it, that there is a better, safer way, but part of me wants that risk because I know what the abyss at the bottom tastes like.

“Ready to strike?” Lily squeezes my arm, knocking me out of my thoughts.

Ok. Head in the game, Josh. It’s now or never. You better not screw up.

Gee, thanks.

Squaring my shoulders, I force myself to focus on my mission. “I’m ready. Let’s go and ruin Alistair Devon’s evening.”

8

Alistair

Mr.Nevillefinallyfucksoff, letting me and Brady catch a breather as we inhale another round of champagne. It’s to be expected that so many people would want to talk to me, and I genuinely don’t mind it, but I’ve been making small talk since the moment I walked into the hall, an hour ago. It’s exhausting, and frankly, I’m kind of done with it.

Unfortunately, I’m reminded that it doesn’t matter one bit as a man and woman walk up to us. Socializing is a necessary evil that I have to swallow down as the future CEO of Devon Holidays.

“Hi, Alistair. Long time no see,” the woman says in a distantly familiar voice.

Hmm? Do I know her?

Curious, I meet her brown eyes. Nothing. I size her up next, looking for clues in her black hair tied into a bun, in her clothes, in her dark, glitter-infused skin and bold eyeshadow. But I come up short. Just when I am about to give up, I catch it, the tip of a feather tattoo peeking from under the collar of her shirt.

Oh, shit. I do know this woman! We were never friends, but I always thought she was so badass for having a giant tattoo of a feathered dragon. I couldn’t, for the death of me, figure out how her parents allowed her to get it.

“Lily… Jones? From economy club?”

“Bingo.” She grins, showing off pearl-like white teeth.

Bits and pieces come back to me in one of those influxes of hazy memories you get when you kind of remember something, but not really. We sat together during club activities and our interactions mostly revolved around school stuff.

“It is you! How have you been?”

I don’t keep in touch with any of my school peers, and she is the first one I’ve run into tonight. It makes me curious to find out what she’s been up to.

“Ah, you know. Work and stuff.” She laughs. “Regular people kind of stuff, unlike you. Congratulations, by the way. Your time has finally come.”

Ah, I do remember her humor. It’s not really the funny, mainstream type, but that just puts her apart.

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