Chapter 2. An arrival

The rain had not let up since he boarded the armored van at the airport. The weather had become more irritating since the new driver assigned to take him to the club slammed on the brakes a couple of times due to the lack of courtesy of other drivers, cursing between his teeth in his native tongue: German. He checked his cell phone and realized he had several missed calls from his older brother, Bruno.

Bruno Hoffmann was the eldest of the three sons of the owner of the Einsam club empire. Years before in New York, he had created the first hotel and club Seasons, which had gained fame among the high society. It was a peculiar and intimate place, known for its extravagance and psychedelic atmosphere. Admission to this club required a six-month wait and an exhaustive investigation of the person, including high-ranking individuals, millionaires, and powerful sheikhs.

Björn looked out the window again, clenching his jaw tightly. He wondered if Bruno had a good reason to make him travel. What was it that he didn't want to discuss over the phone or video call? It wasn't the first time Bruno had called him. If it wasn't about problems at the club or hotel, it was usually because he had gotten himself into trouble with women, disregarding rules such as "I'm married" or "I'm off-limits," or simply because he had indulged his carnal instincts or his addiction to sex and gambling.

Two hours later, he was pulled out of his thoughts.

"Mr. Hoffmann, we have arrived," the driver said. Björn hadn't realized they had reached the Seasons Hotel on the outskirts of the city. It was dark, and the rain continued to pour, adding to his irritation.

"Thank you," Björn replied as the manager of the place opened his door. He walked gracefully into the hotel, with its high ceilings and diamond-shaped crystal chandeliers that reminded him of his mother. The hotel's design bore her touch. As he reached the main elevator, he felt someone's gaze. When he discreetly looked around, he found Christine. He pursed his lips and turned his gaze to the glass doors of the elevator.

"Are you so angry with me that you won't even look at me?" Christine whispered, her voice irritating him.

"Good night, Christine," Björn responded curtly.

"Good night, Björn," she sighed, folding her arms and gazing at his profile. "I thought you weren't coming back to town anymore."

"Business," he replied shortly.

"I remember the last time in our bed you said you'd never go back to New York," Christine remarked. Björn tensed. He had had an affair with Christine, who held a high position at the hotel after Bruno. When she thought there was something more than just an affair, Björn ended it abruptly. Their last fight had been so intense that he had even left a mark on her hand with a glass vase he threw at her. But that was five years ago, and Christine should have moved on, he thought.

The elevator bell hadn't rung yet, and Christine grew impatient that he hadn't responded to her venomous words. The doors finally opened, and he stepped in. She stood in front of him, stopping the glass door.

"You're not going to say anything about what I just said?" Björn subtly pulled his hand away without breaking eye contact.

"You should be over it," he replied, lifting his other hand and pointing to his own scar. "Just like I'm over this damn scar, Laurent." Christine's eyes widened as she remembered the scar. The doors closed, leaving her behind, her gaze following Björn until he disappeared.

Björn reached the floor where the hotel's head office was located, carefully considering his answers in case Christine tried to convince him to stay and manage the hotel. The less he saw Christine and her father, the calmer he would be. He didn't want to succumb to his lingering anger, which he had been working through with his psychiatrist for years. He didn't need any more problems than he already had at the moment.

He knocked on the door and entered. Bruno was sitting behind the stately glass desk, glancing at his cell phone screen.

"I thought you weren't coming," Bruno said, then looked up at Björn, who appeared irritated.

"What do you want? Couldn't you tell me over the phone or video call? Don't assume I don't have a job like you," Björn remarked, unbothered by Bruno's attempt at intimidation. He had learned to live with Bruno's façade and his own demons. He no longer cared about what came next.

Björn sat down, ignoring Bruno's gaze.

"I require you to cover for me for six months at the hotel and the club," Bruno finally stated. Björn crossed one leg over the other and leaned against the back of the leather chair, taking in the scent of Cuban cigars and alcohol that permeated the room.

"Why don't you ask Oscar?" Björn suggested, referring to their younger brother. Bruno twisted his lips, anger surfacing as he revealed his true intentions.

"Oscar is a son of a bitc*! He wants nothing to do with managing any hotel or club. Since the last incident, he has distanced himself from everything related to us, and you know that," Bruno replied.

"I can't do it. This time, I won't cover for you, Bruno. If that's all, I'll be leaving for Germany in a couple of hours," Björn declared, standing up, firm in his resolve not to assist Bruno any longer. Then came the words that struck his brother hard.

"Björn, I am your older brother. You have to help me. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to tell our father about the financial debacle that occurred in Australia with the club you were running," Bruno threatened. Björn closed his eyes, turning his back to his older brother.

"That mistake was dealt with over five years ago, Bruno," Björn said, facing his brother once more.

"But our father doesn't know," Bruno paused, seeing that his point was getting across. "That's why we don't share our secrets, why we possess the cold-bloodedness and the curse of using them against our family." Björn tensed even more.

"Why do you enjoy messing with me about the same thing? If you want to tell our father, go ahead. I'm tired of every time I refuse to help you, you threaten me with something no one remembers anymore."

"What about the fire? What about the person who died there?" Bruno uttered those words, causing Björn to lunge toward him. He grabbed Bruno by the shirt, exerting force.

"Don't you dare keep talking. I'll break your face," Björn warned, his rage simmering. "You don't know how things happened, so DON'T TALK!"

Bruno smiled.

"Release the aggression you carry every day, Björn. It's not good to bottle it up..." Björn let go, walked away, and reached the door.

"I'm going to Germany. Face the consequences of your actions for once, Bruno," he said before opening the glass door and slamming it shut behind him. Walking with clenched fists, his anger had finally surfaced. He needed to find a way to calm the brewing storm within him.