Page 55 of Negotiation Tactics

“Maybe you should talk to mom…”

Would that do any good? Aside from making me feel even shittier. She’ll be so disappointed in me. This is a lost cause in its current state, a sinking ship.

After Jaz and I say goodbye, I go in circles searching for a solution. Nothing comes to mind, so I resign to thefact that I will have to confess everything to mom and ask for her advice. I don’t think she’ll have a magical solution, but two heads are better than one. I just don’t know how I’ll face the people’s disappointment when they find out. They will be heartbroken, angry, and rightfully so.

I tried. I really did. I will learn from my failure, so next time I am up against a CEO with a nice smile, I will not make the same mistake again.

20

Alistair

Iloosenmytieas I come out of the conference room last. It’s been a few days since I officially took over as Devon Holidays’ CEO and it would be an understatement to say that things have been hectic. I knew it would be like this, of course, and I was prepared, but the ad campaign I agreed to do for my ex, Christine, has been a curveball. The photoshoot was moved forward due to some event the crew has to attend, so I am leaving for Italy today.

Fortunately, Brady can hold the fort while I’m away, handling the meetings with stakeholders and partners that require attendance in person because some people apparently still live in the stone age. Modernizing some aspects of how Devon Holydays works was the first thing I did, even if it took me a while.

Just as some kind of a realization is about to descend onto me, Brady shoves his arm over my shoulder. “Hey, big boss. Your most favorite person in the world just called. Your flight is leaving in four hours from Portland International, but unfortunately it’s not direct. You’ll do a short stopover in London.”

I nod, giving up on chasing after the epiphany I was about to have. If it slipped my mind so easily, it wasn’t that important. “Oh, no, whatever will I do being stuck in Heathrow?” My best friend bumps me in the back. “I’mgonna head off. Need to stop by my place to pick up my things.”

“Call me when you land.”

“Will do.” I pause at the door to my office and take out my phone, almost forgetting about the list of must-do things I prepared for Brady. When I turn around after forwarding it, he’s lounging in my chair. “I managed to convince Mr. Parton to do a video conference, but the rest didn’t budge.”

He takes a few moments to skim through the list. “Oh, two times golf with old men and a lunch in Seattle. You sure you don’t want to fly in for those?”

Shaking my head, I snort. “They are all yours. Just behave. No offering them sexy times until after they’ve signed the partnership agreements.”

“Aye, aye.” He salutes. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. You just go to Italy, be a model for a sexy marble bathtub and have fun. Preferably without strangling your ex.”

I flip him off and jog over to catch the elevator before it goes down. Back home, my luggage is already waiting for me on the couch in the lounge, but I double-check that I’ve packed everything. While I could just buy whatever I might need in Italy, what’s the point of having two or three electric toothbrushes, for example?

Speaking of toothbrushes, it seems that’s the one thing that I forgot to pack. I brushed my teeth in the morning and thought about it, but then I noticed the vanilla scented shower gel I bought for Josh, got annoyed at it and went to throw it away, so I must’ve forgotten. Irritation floods me, but I take a deep breath and stuff it down. Josh and I are done. Over. He’s not worth my time or nerves.

Toothbrush retrieved, I grab my favorite leather jacket from the hanger and drag my suitcase to my car’strunk. An hour later, I’m hanging out in the airport’s VIP lounge until my gate is announced, excited but also a little apprehensive about what awaits me in Venice.

Christine picks me up from the airport in Venice with the latest model BMW. I’m exhausted from the long flight, but I try to pay attention to what she’s saying. By the sounds of things, the agenda for the next few weeks is packed, featuring various photoshoots of her luxury line of bathrooms. Honestly, I’m not looking forward to it at all, but it’s work, plus being busy will help me get over Josh quicker.

“I realize the schedule is a little intense, but I also know that you just took over officially and probably have a ton of work back in Portland. If there are no major fuck-ups, we might even wrap things up earlier.”

That’s… actually kind of thoughtful of her. I was already swamped with stuff to do when the transition period started, and it only got worse when I official took on the CEO hat. Not that I am complaining. Things will settle once the new hotels open, but while it might be tough now, it’s also kind of exciting.

Christine drops me off at the Devon Holidays Grand Basilica Hotel near the St. Mark’s Basilica. Just like the buildings around, the exterior of the hotel hasn’t been touched, retaining the original historical façade while the interior has been modernized. A bellman takes my suitcase to the penthouse apartment I’ll be occupying during my stay here.

The reception area is spacious, with hardwood and marble. Blue, gold and white intersperse, culminating inthe vaulted high ceiling just before the bifurcated staircase leading to the restaurant and casino on the floor above.

“Hello and welcome, Mr. Devon. It’s an honor to have you,” the young receptionist says when I approach the desk, shooting up from her chair with a big smile on her face. Her excitement betrays the fact that she’s new here. “Sofia, I’ll take Mr. Devon to his suite.”

“Sure, Alice,” the second woman says, smiling. “Welcome, Mr. Devon. I wish you a pleasant stay.”

“Please, follow me, Mr. Devon,” Alice chirps, rounding the desk. She leads me to the elevator and we ride it to the top floor.

I tune out her explanation about the executive suite, knowing that it’s just like any other suite I have stayed in when visiting our hotels, and dismiss her with a thank you after she opens the door for me. The penthouse takes up half of the entire floor, consisting of a lounge, kitchen, a master bedroom, gigantic bathroom, a hobby room, another bedroom and a huge balcony overlooking the Basilica and the canal. It’s a standard size as far as luxury suites go, with nothing for me to explore since it matches even the layout of the other penthouses at our hotels, which means there is also a jacuzzi and minibar on the balcony.

Despite hopping right in with a glass of whiskey in hand, I can’t relax. The pleasant warmth of the water and the smokiness of the alcohol do little to wash away the irritation I’ve been dealing with for the past few weeks.

It’s all Josh’s fault. He blew up at me like I was the only one who did wrong, when all along he was using me. Manipulating me with his smiles, with his body, with the little but cute quirks of his character. It was supposed to be just sex, no strings attached, but god, how did I let myself get carried away and wish for more? Why did I believethat he was genuine, that we could work once the negotiations were over? And I almost ruined everything too, all because I couldn’t resist wanting to help him… If not for dad knocking some sense into me, I don’t know what would’ve happened.

Sighing, I close my eyes and focus on my senses. It’s over, there’s no point dwelling on the past. I dodged a bullet and everything is fine. The commission will handle Josh as it should have from the start, and I will become the best CEO Devon Holidays has ever seen.

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