Insidious
Page 12
Since I’d agreed to attend this meeting that my parents had arranged, I’d been given no more information. All I’d received was the outfit to wear with a note telling me that my presence was imperative for all of our futures.
Attempting to hide my uneasiness, I did my best to appear calm and stay quiet in the small, uncomfortable space as the elevator ascended toward our destination. When the doors opened, the most stunning view and exquisitely decorated living room was before me. The tall windows illuminated the room, overpowering the light-colored furnishings with the intense blue of the sky and sea.
“Thank you, Travis, I’ll take Miss Conway from here.”
I turned toward the woman’s voice. About my mother’s age with short blonde hair and soft blue eyes, she didn’t give me the same uncomfortable feeling I felt from Travis. Before I could speak, she reached for my hand. “Welcome, Miss Conway. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Lisa. If I can be of any assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I’m sorry, Lisa, where am I? Whom am I supposed to meet?”
Her eyes opened wide. “Miss Conway, you’re here to see Mr. Harrington. We’re in his Miami penthouse. Surely you recognize the city through the windows.”
My heartbeat approached a normal cadence with her honesty, and I glanced again toward the windows. “Yes, I recognize the city. I just didn’t know where in the city I’d been brought.”
Her expression softened as she asked, “Would you like to freshen up before seeing Mr. Harrington? If not, he is ready to see you.”
Lowering my voice, I asked, “Lisa, who is Mr. Harrington, and why does he want to see me?”
Concern danced across her expression. “Miss Conway, I’m not sure why you haven’t been informed. Perhaps it would be better for Mr. Harrington to explain.” She squeezed my hand. “After you speak with him, I’ll gladly help clarify anything I can for you.”
Uncertainty and apprehension twisted in my empty stomach. I was suddenly happy that I hadn’t eaten. Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I squared my shoulders, and replied, “I believe I’m ready to see Mr. Harrington.”
“You look lovely, dear. Let me show you to his office.”
I followed as Lisa led me through the large white living room. Lush green plants and accents in the hue of blue complemented the tile floor and white leather furniture. With the color of the ocean outside of the windows, it all flowed together beautifully. The tile changed in shape as we approached a long hallway. I couldn’t help but wonder how big the penthouse was; however, before I could give it much thought, Lisa paused. Looking me in the eye, she whispered, “Harrington Spas and Suites, International. Perhaps you weren’t to know that yet, but I believe it would be beneficial for you to know whom you’re dealing with.”
Before I could respond, she turned away and knocked on the door. My mind was a blur. Of course I’d heard of Harrington Spas and Suites: it was one of the most exclusive hotel chains in the country, probably the world, since Lisa had said international. The main reason I knew about it was that my stepfather Randall’s medical practice had an exclusive contract with the Miami Harrington location. According to my mother, it was a very sought-after account. The fact that Randall had been involved in securing the partnership was an accomplishment that my mother felt the need to flaunt at one of our rare dinners.
I also remembered hearing something about Harrington Suites in one of my classes. The academy that I attended prided itself on its college-preparatory classes. An introduction to business was essential for the children of the elite. In one of those classes I recalled a discussion about transitions in business and the repercussions when a family-owned business was passed from one member to the next. As I recalled, Mr. Harrington’s father started the Harrington Suites a long time ago, but when he passed away, his son—the man behind the door—inherited the controlling shares of the company. He created an uproar by wanting to modernize the already successful chain. There was more than a little trepidation on the part of the board of directors. Nevertheless, the younger Mr. Harrington stuck to his guns and included spas in all of the facilities. From what I’d read, they were remarkable top-of-the-line spas.
As I heard the greeting of come in from behind the door, I tried to remember the news reports I’d seen and the biography I’d been required to read. Funny, at the time it didn’t seem important. Now, I’d give anything to have retained more. I did recall reading that the younger Mr. Harrington grew up with the world at his fingertips and had quite the reputation for living life to its fullest. I also thought I remembered that his wife passed away at a relatively young age. Nevertheless, by today’s standards, they’d been married for a while.
When the door opened, I stood dumbfounded. That was Mr. Harrington? I’d expected him to be older. It wasn’t that he was young, like me, but I was expecting ancient. He looked like he was perhaps forty, give or take a few years. He definitely looked younger than my parents, and my mother spent a lot of money and time with her plastic surgeon to look as young as she could. Immediately, his gaze went to me and a grin came to his lips. “Miss Conway, Victoria…” He extended his hand as he came around his desk. “…I’m so glad we were able to make this work.”
I took in his casual attire—jeans and white t-shirt—and suddenly felt overdressed. Though the heels gave me height, with each step he took toward me, I felt smaller and smaller. Next to him, my five-foot-six-inch frame was dwarfed. He had all the tell-tale signs of a man who lived in Miami, the sun-kissed skin and blonde hair.
Attempting to hide my uneasiness, I did my best to appear calm and stay quiet in the small, uncomfortable space as the elevator ascended toward our destination. When the doors opened, the most stunning view and exquisitely decorated living room was before me. The tall windows illuminated the room, overpowering the light-colored furnishings with the intense blue of the sky and sea.
“Thank you, Travis, I’ll take Miss Conway from here.”
I turned toward the woman’s voice. About my mother’s age with short blonde hair and soft blue eyes, she didn’t give me the same uncomfortable feeling I felt from Travis. Before I could speak, she reached for my hand. “Welcome, Miss Conway. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Lisa. If I can be of any assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I’m sorry, Lisa, where am I? Whom am I supposed to meet?”
Her eyes opened wide. “Miss Conway, you’re here to see Mr. Harrington. We’re in his Miami penthouse. Surely you recognize the city through the windows.”
My heartbeat approached a normal cadence with her honesty, and I glanced again toward the windows. “Yes, I recognize the city. I just didn’t know where in the city I’d been brought.”
Her expression softened as she asked, “Would you like to freshen up before seeing Mr. Harrington? If not, he is ready to see you.”
Lowering my voice, I asked, “Lisa, who is Mr. Harrington, and why does he want to see me?”
Concern danced across her expression. “Miss Conway, I’m not sure why you haven’t been informed. Perhaps it would be better for Mr. Harrington to explain.” She squeezed my hand. “After you speak with him, I’ll gladly help clarify anything I can for you.”
Uncertainty and apprehension twisted in my empty stomach. I was suddenly happy that I hadn’t eaten. Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I squared my shoulders, and replied, “I believe I’m ready to see Mr. Harrington.”
“You look lovely, dear. Let me show you to his office.”
I followed as Lisa led me through the large white living room. Lush green plants and accents in the hue of blue complemented the tile floor and white leather furniture. With the color of the ocean outside of the windows, it all flowed together beautifully. The tile changed in shape as we approached a long hallway. I couldn’t help but wonder how big the penthouse was; however, before I could give it much thought, Lisa paused. Looking me in the eye, she whispered, “Harrington Spas and Suites, International. Perhaps you weren’t to know that yet, but I believe it would be beneficial for you to know whom you’re dealing with.”
Before I could respond, she turned away and knocked on the door. My mind was a blur. Of course I’d heard of Harrington Spas and Suites: it was one of the most exclusive hotel chains in the country, probably the world, since Lisa had said international. The main reason I knew about it was that my stepfather Randall’s medical practice had an exclusive contract with the Miami Harrington location. According to my mother, it was a very sought-after account. The fact that Randall had been involved in securing the partnership was an accomplishment that my mother felt the need to flaunt at one of our rare dinners.
I also remembered hearing something about Harrington Suites in one of my classes. The academy that I attended prided itself on its college-preparatory classes. An introduction to business was essential for the children of the elite. In one of those classes I recalled a discussion about transitions in business and the repercussions when a family-owned business was passed from one member to the next. As I recalled, Mr. Harrington’s father started the Harrington Suites a long time ago, but when he passed away, his son—the man behind the door—inherited the controlling shares of the company. He created an uproar by wanting to modernize the already successful chain. There was more than a little trepidation on the part of the board of directors. Nevertheless, the younger Mr. Harrington stuck to his guns and included spas in all of the facilities. From what I’d read, they were remarkable top-of-the-line spas.
As I heard the greeting of come in from behind the door, I tried to remember the news reports I’d seen and the biography I’d been required to read. Funny, at the time it didn’t seem important. Now, I’d give anything to have retained more. I did recall reading that the younger Mr. Harrington grew up with the world at his fingertips and had quite the reputation for living life to its fullest. I also thought I remembered that his wife passed away at a relatively young age. Nevertheless, by today’s standards, they’d been married for a while.
When the door opened, I stood dumbfounded. That was Mr. Harrington? I’d expected him to be older. It wasn’t that he was young, like me, but I was expecting ancient. He looked like he was perhaps forty, give or take a few years. He definitely looked younger than my parents, and my mother spent a lot of money and time with her plastic surgeon to look as young as she could. Immediately, his gaze went to me and a grin came to his lips. “Miss Conway, Victoria…” He extended his hand as he came around his desk. “…I’m so glad we were able to make this work.”
I took in his casual attire—jeans and white t-shirt—and suddenly felt overdressed. Though the heels gave me height, with each step he took toward me, I felt smaller and smaller. Next to him, my five-foot-six-inch frame was dwarfed. He had all the tell-tale signs of a man who lived in Miami, the sun-kissed skin and blonde hair.
