Three

Brad

“Bud, the new interns are here,” Chris Maze, my VP of Ops, grunts. “You ready to greet them?”

I gazed out my office window, ignoring him. Chris is always on my ass about something or other, but that’s his job. He’s the one who really runs Excel these days, whereas I’m a figurehead who presses the flesh and makes deals. Would I switch job descriptions with Chris? In a heartbeat. I fucking hate the charity dinners, fundraising, and political machinations required of a powerful developer in the Minneapolis area. Yet I built Excel using this skills, and this is why I’m at the top, and not him.

“Yo,” Chris says, a tad impatient now. “Do you want to go meet them, or not? If not, I’ll tell them that you’re occupied, and we’ll send another senior figure to say hello. It’s not a big deal. They’re sure to be a bunch of teen morons who barely know up from down. It’s fine.”

I grunt, swiveling my chair around to stare at my VP.

“I’ll go,” I say.

He nods.

“Sure, boss. It’ll only take ten minutes max, and then we can break and talk about the Blackwood deal. I think it’s the future of hotel construction.”

My heart sinks because the Blackwood deal is the last thing I want to discuss, and yet I know that Chris believes there’s promise to their proposal. Basically, Blackwood is a chain of hotels with mid-tier properties in major urban areas. They offer the usual shit, including standard rooms, doubles, executive suites, and the like. But their new deal is to construct hotels with all of the above, in addition to a new concept: single-occupancy rooms.

Yeah, it’s the new trend these days. Evidently, there are a lot of solo travelers, and a corresponding rise in demand for rooms that include only a twin-size bed. I almost laughed when the proposal first landed on my desk.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked. “Who sleeps in a twin these days? Nine-year-old boys?”

Chris merely shrugged.

“Evidently, this is what a certain segment of customers want. They’re traveling on their own, and have the means to pay for a standard room. But the second bed often goes unused, and they’re looking for value. Thus, the single-occupancy hotel room.”

I squinted, taking in the mock-up. The sketch of a proposed SOR was decent enough, although the child-size twin still made me guffaw.

“But this room is a fucking shoebox,” I snorted. “What is it? Two hundred square feet, including the bathroom?”

Chris nodded.

“Yeah, or less. One seventy five in some cases.”

I squinted at the mock-up some more, and then laughed because it wasn’t just the bed that was small. It was everything, including the bedside table, the lamp, and even the painting on the wall.

“So who’s going to stay here? Someone five foot five and under? What the fuck? Should we throw a Snoopy comforter on the twin to make our customers feel at home? This is a fucking dollhouse. Nobody six feet tall could sleep in this thing.”

My number two maintained his equanimity.

“Again, there are travelers who want value, and they see no reason to book a standard room when a Snug Single is available. And Blackwood is proposing extra-long twins for rooms, which means the mattress is eighty inches long. It’s big enough.”

“Eighty inches is fucking tiny,” I say with disdain. “Plus, who came up with the name Snug Single? Is that what they’re calling it?”

“Yeah, that’s what Blackwood is branding it for now. At least temporarily,” Chris responded. “We can change it if we don’t like it.”

I let out another guffaw.

“Goddamn. A Snug Single. What the fuck is the world coming to? Adults sleeping in children’s beds. Seeking them out, even, for what? A hundred dollar discount?”

My second in command shook his head.

“Not even. Maybe fifteen percent off a standard, so a four hundred dollar night would be discounted to three hundred and forty bucks.”

I feel a migraine coming on, and close my eyes while pressing my fingers to my forehead, trying to quell the pressure in my skull. Snug Singles are obviously a fucking shitshow, but I’d be a fool to close the door based on my personal disdain. Not everyone is a billionaire with loads of cash to spare. As a result, I get up.

“Okay, let’s get this shit over with. Downstairs to meet the new interns, and then Blackwood Snug Singles. Fuck me.”

With that, Chris and I leave my office, taking the executive elevator to a conference room on a lower floor. With his hand on the door, my buddy turns to me.

“Ready?” he asks.

I grunt.

“Why not.”

Then, the slab swings open and it’s more of the same. There are a bunch of twenty-something’s milling about the spacious conference room. They look ridiculous, to be honest, like children in business suits. They’re fresh-faced and well-scrubbed, and one young man’s hair even seems to be slicked down with extra-strength Brylcreem, as if he’s ready for a class photo.

“Mr. Landry,” a middle-aged woman rushes over. “Hello, I’m Helena from HR. Thank you for coming to this welcome party for our summer interns. It’s just a small thing where we orient them to Excel Properties...”

The rest of her speech fades in my ears because I’ve just caught sight of a young woman who’s breathtakingly beautiful. In fact, I know her because it’s my ex-stepdaughter, Minnie. But what the fuck is Minnie doing here? She’s certainly dressed for the part, in a white button-down shirt which highlights her big bust, tucked into a slim-fit pencil skirt. Her blonde hair is tied back neatly into a low bun, and goddamn, but her lips are the perfect shade of pearly pink. I’d love to see that glossy mouth lapping along the veins of my cock. I’d love to see her on her knees, nude and lush, as she sucks teasingly at my aching balls, looking up at me with those innocent blue eyes.

But what the fuck is Minnie doing here? Faintly, I hear Helena speaking.

“This is Brandon, from Villanova. Brandon, would you like to say a few words about yourself?”

The Brylcreem boy practically bursts with excitement and opens his mouth for an introduction, but I don’t hear any of it. I think he says something about having a long-standing interest in multi-family housing, but I could be wrong. He could be reciting the dictionary, for all I know or care, and after a short smatter of applause, Helena smiles at Minnie.

“And this is Mary,” she says. “Mary, would you like to say a few words about yourself to the group?”

Minnie smiles sweetly.

“Actually, no one calls me Mary. It’s a name my mom gave me because she was close to her great-aunt, Mary Amelia. But I’ve never gone by either moniker because people have always called me Minnie.”

“That’s good to know,” Helena nods, scribbling a note on her clipboard. “And where do you go to school?”

Minnie smiles again, breathtakingly beautiful in her office-appropriate workwear. In fact, I already see quite a few of the young guns in the room appraising her curvy assets, as if getting ready to ask her on a date as soon as these goddamn introductions are over. What the fuck? This is literally their first day on premises.

They’re baby sharks, the voice in my head whispers. They want to be just like you, Brad, and who can blame them? Your stepdaughter is fucking H-O-T.

It’s true. I’d be doing the same in their shoes, but fortunately, I’m not in their shoes. I’m the fucking CEO of this place and there’s no way a band of Young Turks is going to move in and snatch the curvy girl from my grasp. Not if I have anything to do with it. But now, Minnie’s talking again, and I force myself to focus on her words as those luscious lips move.

“Well, I just finished my junior year at Evergreen, and I’m actually a journalism major, with a minor in rhetoric. But everyone knows that the newspaper industry is going down the tubes, and so I was lucky to land this position. I’m interested in marketing, and think that working for a big firm like Excel could help me develop my skills in this area.”

“Perfect,” Helena hums, nodding with approval. “Marketing is a huge part of the construction and development business, so you’re in the right place. Next. Rachel, is it? Please share a few tidbits about yourself.”

The group’s attention focuses on a mousy brunette standing next to Minnie, but I hardly notice the new girl. Instead, my blue gaze is trained on the young blonde, and she can feel it. She makes eye contact and smiles at me a tiny bit, but more with her eyes than her lips. Ah ha. She doesn’t want the crowd to know that we’re related, even if the bond has been broken since.

But it’s fine. I have nothing to hide, and I don’t give a fuck if the entire world knows that Minnie is my stepdaughter. Yet with all the current sniping about nepo-babies and inequality, I can see why Minnie would want to keep it under wraps. No problem. I’m happy to play by her rules ... for now at least.

My mind still swirling, I realize that the woman from HR is now addressing me. I have to give some sort of short welcome speech, and utter niceties about how Excel will benefit from these young people’s talents, and how their paths are being paved to a steady professional future. 

Fortunately, it’s easy enough because I’ve given so many anodyne speeches in the past that the words roll off my tongue. Even more, I see Minnie watching, her big blue eyes fixed on my massive form. I see how she crosses her arms over her breasts, emphasizing their luscious shape. 

I see how she licks her lips unconsciously, the pink flicker of her tongue driving me to distraction. Suddenly, this summer just got a whole lot better ... even as a plan for revenge hatches in my head.