Beautiful Mistake Book 2
Author
Mel Ryle
Reads
373K
Chapters
30
Business to Attend To
SEASON 2
Produced by: Adam Sharp
Written by: Ashley Schlueter
Sound by: Nicolas Baviere
KYLA
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.
After weeks of planning, the moment had finally arrived.
I, Kyla Tristen, was about to have my first executive meeting as the Head of Marketing for the Grand Hotel.
And there were a few things that the board members didn’t know about yet.
While they were aware of the fact that Jensen and I were now engaged—it had been hard to avoid once I was wearing his ring on my finger—they were somewhat less informed on the fact that I was now almost eight weeks pregnant.
Honestly, I was terrified of them finding out.
I worried that they’d judge me just as harshly as when my old boss, Brian Leach, had accused me of “sleeping my way to the top.
But today, I needed to be confident. Dante pulled the luxury SUV up to the entrance of the Grand Hotel.
“Good luck, Ms. Tristen,” he said with a nod. “Not that you need it, of course.”
“Thanks, Dante,” I said.
My favorite Marc Jacobs nude heels clicked smartly on the lobby flooring.
Coleen waved at me from her place at the concierge desk. I waved back, pointing at my wrist.
No time to chat. Sorry! I mouthed to her.
Go get 'em! she mouthed back. I grinned and continued up the stairs to my office.
My faithful secretary Rhea was already waiting for me, her arms full of file folders.
She must have gotten here early to have all this ready, I thought with a wave of gratitude.
She was wearing high-waisted eggplant trousers and a flowing silk blouse. As always, her sense of fashion put mine to shame.
You’d think with being engaged to a millionaire that I’d find some time for shopping, but I was twice as busy at work than ever now that I’d been promoted.
Jensen and I had agreed that I would go on maternity leave at thirty-eight weeks. Which left only seven and a half months.
Thirty weeks sounded like a long time, but I knew it would fly by.
In that time, I had to plan a marketing event of such proportions that no one would think I had gotten this job just because I was engaged to the boss.
This was my chance to prove myself.
“Is everyone already in the meeting room?” I asked Rhea.
“Everyone except Bruce and Richard. I asked them to go grab some coffees for everyone. They might be there a while.”
“Good idea,” I said, wishing I could enjoy a cup myself.
Decaf was going to take some getting used to.
“Right, well, they won’t mind if we start without them. Tell everyone I’ll be there in just a minute.”
“You got it, boss.” Rhea grinned.
I went inside my new, much larger office. Fetching a small mirror out of my purse, I checked my reflection one last time.
Did my face seem flushed? Was it obvious that I’d spent an hour hugging the toilet bowl this morning, still in the grips of morning sickness?
Nope. I raised my chin, meeting my gaze in the mirror.
You got this, Kyla.
***
The department heads were gathered around the meeting table. I could feel their scrutiny.
I was the only woman present—and the only person under fifty.
The seat at the head of the table was conspicuously empty. My heart gave a pang.
I wish he were here.
Jensen had been in London for the past two nights, knee-deep in meetings about Holmes Luxury Hotels, our main competitor in England.
They were currently involved in a smear campaign against the Hawksleys, which was all over the British tabloids.
He was supposed to be back this evening, but I still wished he could have been here to see me win over these old geezers.
“The Grand Hotel received enormous press coverage from the Annual Gala for Hawksley Enterprises,” I said, clicking the screen to show a line graph.
“In the two weeks since the event, bookings have gone up more than fifteen percent. This is exactly what we want here at the Grand Hotel.”
I clicked again. “I believe that hosting another large event later this year would help maintain this increase in profitability.”
“What kind of event did you have in mind?” asked Mr. Klausman, the Head of Food Production.
He would be in charge of vendors and catering for any large-scale event.
I smiled at him. “I’m glad you asked.” I clicked the projector again.
“The Ambassador’s Char—” I began but was cut off by the boardroom door banging open.
Bruce Parker and Richard Morales walked in, each carrying a flat of paper cups. “Sorry we’re late. But we brought caffeine!”
“Thanks, guys,” I said, smiling at them.
Bruce and Richard were the only two members of the hotel’s social media department. I’d pulled them off their day-to-day work to involve them in this project.
I noticed that there was no decaf, but I couldn’t exactly blame them for that.
“Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. H. The line at Starbucks was crazy long,” Bruce said, easing himself into one of the leather chairs.
He was the son of one of the hotel’s most influential stockholders. His arrogance was annoying at times, but I tried to chalk it up to immaturity.
Richard took the seat next to him. “Really sorry, Ms. Hawksley,” he said quietly.
“Tristein. I’m not a Hawksley yet,” I smiled.
“Ms. Tristein. Right. Sorry,” he replied.
Of the two of them, I preferred Richard. He was quiet and respectful, almost shy beneath his thick glasses.
“The Ambassador’s Ball for charity is an annual event that hosts some of the wealthiest donors in the area,” I explained.
“This year, all the proceeds go directly into providing free lunches and school supplies for children who can’t afford them.”
“My dad goes to that party every year,” Bruce piped up from his seat.
“I’m sure he does,” I said without looking at him. “For the past ten years, the ball has been hosted by the Wagmann Hotel on Michigan Avenue. But they’re undergoing renovations this year, so the ball is up for bid.”
I made sure to look each of them in the eye.
“If our bid for the Charity Ball were to be successful, it would mean a huge revenue influx for the hotel. It would also be an excellent chance for Hawksley Enterprises to give back to the community.”
“And if it were unsuccessful, it would mean a waste of valuable time and resources,” commented Mr. Oliver, the Head of Operations.
“Yes, but I have no intention of our bid being unsuccessful,” I answered him smoothly.
“Personally, I think it’s a great idea,” came a voice from the open door.
I looked up in surprise to see my fiancé, Jensen Hawksley, standing in the entrance to the meeting room.
His brown hair fell over his forehead, and his bright blue eyes were as breathtaking as ever.
Immediately, everyone sat a little straighter.
“What are you doing here?” I gasped in astonishment. “You’re not supposed to be back until tonight!”
“Caught an earlier flight,” he answered with a grin. “Had to make sure my new marketing team is up to scratch.”
The others looked uncomfortable by our informal banter.
Jensen strode into the meeting room, looking devastatingly handsome as always in a navy-blue suit. He stood beside me and addressed the board.
“I learned in London that our largest international competitor, Holmes Luxury Hotels, is launching a bid for this same event. They’re trying to edge in on the American market by starting right here in Chicago.”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, seemingly casual.
“Under Ms. Tristen’s direction, I want to put together a presentation that will blow the charity committee away,” he continued.
“Ms. Tristen is to take lead, and I’ll expect you all to be at her disposal. Agreed?” Jensen finished.
If the members of the board were shocked by this sudden announcement, they hid it well. Shrugs and murmurs of approval filled the room.
“I’ll expect a full report by the end of next week, Ms. Tristen,” he said with a sly smile.
“Of course, sir,” I responded coolly. “Meeting adjourned.”
Jensen looked at me with such intensity that my heart fluttered. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some business to attend to with my fiancé.”
***
We barely made it to my office before our hands were all over each other. I hadn’t seen Jensen in two days, but it felt more like two years.
“I missed you,” he said, his arms snaking around my waist. “It was too lonely in the hotel bed without you.”
I nodded, leaning into the warmth of his chest.
He placed one hand on my still-flat stomach. “How’s the little one?” he asked.
“I can’t keep anything down except weak tea, crackers, and cucumber slices,” I said cheerfully, placing my hands over his.
“Have you talked to Josie about recommending a doctor?” Jensen asked.
“No, I still haven’t even told my mom! Still trying to figure out how to break the news that I got knocked up from a one-night stand,” I teased.
“I haven’t talked to my parents either. But we probably should if we are going to start planning the wedding.”
My heart flip-flopped.
We kept running around in circles trying to decide what kind of wedding we wanted to have.
Neither of us were interested in a big society affair, but Jensen worried that’s what his family would expect from a Hawksley.
I stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “How was England?”
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Exhausting. Hours spent locked in a room with stockholders. Nathan Holmes is nothing like his father.
“Howard and my dad got along well for years,” he continued, “but his son plays dirty.”
Nathan Holmes was the heir to Holmes Luxury Hotels, which owned some of the swankiest hotel destinations in Europe.
Up until now, they had left North America to the Hawksleys, but with the death of Howard Holmes, his greedy son was now at the reins.
“Do you really think we have a chance at landing the Ambassador’s Ball?” I asked him nervously.
Jensen hugged me. “With you in charge? I think we’re a shoe-in.”
I smiled, loving the way he believed in my talents.
Looking up, I noticed there were dark circles under his eyes.
“You look like you’re about to fall over,” I said with a laugh. “Go home, sleep off the jet lag, and we can have a proper greeting when I finish work.”
“What if I want the proper greeting now?” he murmured, raising one hand to cup my breast. I closed my eyes, wanting to surrender to his touch.
But I had too much left to get done today. “Now, now, mister. Off to bed. There’s plenty of time for that this evening.”
I gave him a deep kiss that let him know exactly what I had on my mind. He kissed me back, then whispered in my ear.
“I look forward to it.”
My toes curled.
“See you at home,” I said suggestively. Jensen laughed again and left, leaving the door to my office open.
Sitting down, I began formatting a schedule for everything that would need to happen between now and the presentation for the charity committee in three months.
I was so immersed that at first I didn’t hear the raised voices coming from Rhea’s area.
Finally, it caught my attention, and I went over to see what the commotion was about.
My breath caught in my throat. I blinked several times in disbelief.
Standing in front of my secretary, an enormous bouquet of roses in his arms, was my ex-boyfriend.
Alden Hustler.
He looked up from Rhea when he saw me and extended the flowers.
“Kyla. I have to talk to you,” he said.
I felt completely frozen as he continued.
“I know about our baby.”
