Morgan
“D on ’ t take this the wrong way, but I think this might have backfired a little,” Donovan cringes. “You
think?!” I snap, tossing my phone aside because I can’t stand to look at it anymore. On the screen is the
headline of an article, an article written last night that went viral by dawn. “This is a bit of a mess, that’s
for sure,” Donovan says as he continues to gawk at it. I reach for my Americano and take a sip, burning
my mouth. But it’s nothing compared to the burning in my chest caused by the bullshit. Bullshit that, if I
had to guess, my brother is behind. “Sorry I’m late,” Scarlett says as she scurries into the resort
conference room, coffee in hand. “There was a line at the coffee shop and everyone was staring at me,”
she says, clearly frazzled. When Donovan called me while I was on a morning run, I immediately called
her, waking her from a sound slumber. She’s actually still in the shorts and tank she wore to bed. The
only difference is she is wearing shoes, and her messy hair that was splayed out on the pillow when I
left this morning is in a bun on top of her head. Donovan is the only one in business attire, but I don’t
even care. That’s how pissed off I am. “Luxury Hotel CEO Too Distracted by Journalist to Focus on His
Failing Resorts,” she r epeats the headline, and my anger goes up another notch
when I hear it again. “It’s bad,” Donovan says somberly. “What I don’t get is where did they get the
photos?” she asks. “There was virtually nobody on the beach last night.” She’s referring to the photos
attached to the articles. Photos of Scarlett and me kissing. While they’re not bad photos by any means,
they’re actually quite good, but they are obviously giving off the wrong impression. The impression that
I am a fuckboy. “Apparently not,” I snap. “I wonder if it was that woman...” “What woman?” Scarlett
asks. “There was a woman?” Donovan asks. “The woman at the restaurant who offered to take a photo
for us,” I say. “She used my phone, though,” Scarlett argues. “And I’m pretty sure I saw her get in a car
and leave with her family. Besides, she seemed sweet and didn’t seem to recognize either of us.”
“That’s what she wants us to think,” I say, but Scarlett just shakes her head. “I feel like it was someone
else. Someone lurking in the shadows.” She shudders, and it hits me that the only thing I hate worse
than another blemish on my r eputation is Scarlett being bothered and violated by all of this. “I’ve had a
stalker before,” she says solemnly. “When I was in Italy reviewing pasta makers. It was terrifying.”
“Nobody is stalking you,” I state. But what I mean is, nobody is going to stalk her or us or anyone else.
“I think it’s pretty obvious who is at the bottom of this.” Scarlett looks confused, but Donovan just nods.
“I was wondering about that.” “What?” Scarlett asks. “Who?”
“My brother,” I answer, and she nods. “He’s really willing to drown both of you if it means feeling like
he’s on top?” she asks. “Oh honey, Conrad Bale will do anything to compete with Morgan,” Donovan
says. “Enough talking about it,” I growl. “I need to figure out what we are going to do about it.” “I just
can’t believe people spun those photos around into something negative,” Scarlett says. “Why is it a bad
thing for the heir of Bale Resorts to be in a relationship? You’d think that would be a good thing.” “It
would be,” I say. “If they knew we are in a relationship.” “Right now they think the same thing they
thought before,” Donovan states. “That Morgan here is a playboy.” “Well, why don’t we set them
straight?” Scarlett asks. “I’ll create a post right now. Let’s go viral.” I like her ambition, but the action
in volved makes me nervous. Only because once we post something like that, it’s real and there’s no
going back. Of course, there isn’t really any going back now. Currently, we seem to be sliding further
into the hole that Conrad is going to attempt to bury me in. I take in a de ep breath and hold it for a
moment. “Alright. Do it. Pull the trigger.” As tense as I am when I give her the go-ahead, Scarlett seems
excited. I’m not sure if it’s because she gets to say she’s dating me or because this kind of stuff, social
media posts and such, is what she does for a living. Probably the latter. Either way, she’s buzzing as she
pokes away at her phone. Meanwhile, I can’t seem to sit still. I pull my phone out, check notifications,
emails, and the weather. Of course, none of that helps because most of the notifications are about the
negative
press. I let out a hefty sigh and set my phone down on the table, picking my coffee up instead. My
stomach is feeling acidic enough as it is. “Just make sure it doesn’t look like a fling,” I say, leaning
towards Scarlett in an attempt to see her screen. But she turns away so I can’t, a teasing smile on her
lips. “It won’t,” she says. “It can’t sound fake either. None of that fluffy, love of my life, heart emoji
stuff. That’s not me,” I state. “I got you,” she goes on. “And–” “Why don’t we let the girl with a zillion
followers and almost no bad reviews work her magic, hmm?” Donovan says, and I snap my jaw shut.
He’s right. I know he is. But I don’t love feeling like I’m not in the driver’s seat. Still, it’s what I hired
her to do. “Done,” she says, setting her phone down. Donovan and I look at each other and pick our
phones up, going straight to Instagram. Scarlett stands up and stretches with a yawn. “I’m going to grab
a pastry from the coffee shop,” she says before sashaying off. The post contains multiple photos of us,
all taken by the woman last night. Both of us smiling in the first, me smirking down at her while she
laughs in the second; her cuddled into my chest in the third. And the fourth is one of the photos from the
beach. But the headline is what has my attention hooked. Moore To Explore: Welp. Y’all caught us.
Can’t hide love and honestly don’t want to. Is anyone really that surprised that I would fall for a man
who loves travel and life experiences as much as I do? And this is only resort one. Buckle up, lovelies,
because the ride is promising to get wild. “It’s simple,” I state. “It’s daring,” I say. “It’s honest,”
Donovan adds.
“It’s... going crazy...” I wipe my hand down my face as the views and comments explode before my
eyes. “It’s brilliant,” Donovan laughs. “Are you seeing this? People are eating it up!” He’s right. The
comment section is already on fire. OMG, I knew you were hiding something. But Morgan Bale?! Get it
girl. You two are perfect for each other! Though hopefully you can loosen that tie a little if you know
what I’m sayin’... wink, wink. I love this! A thousand likes. Who knew the owner of Bale Resorts was
such a silver fox!? Hello daddy... I put my phone down and shake my head. Donovan’s chuckle tells me
he read that comment too. And as much as I’m not a fan of that kind of attention, I know it’s softening
the recent blows to my image. “She’s good, Morgan,” Donovan says, continuing to scroll. “I doubted
this whole ruse at the beginning, but I’m starting to think it’s pretty genius.” “God, you did not tell me
that the pastries here were so good,” Scarlett says as she approaches the table again, cheese danish in
hand. She plops down in the chair next to me again and pulls her phone out. Then she takes a photo of
herself biting into the danish, she’s smiling and winking. It’s mischievous and sexy. It only adds to the
cocktail of mixed-up feelings surging through my veins right now. “Here,” she says, holding the danish
near my mouth. “I’m not a sweets guy.” I shake my head. “They’ll eat it up,” she says, and I know she
means her followers. Reluctantly, I take a bite, with her still holding it, and she snaps a photo. Then,
while I’m chewing, she leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek and takes another photo. “One more,”
she says, laying her head on my shoulder. “And make it look like you like me,”
I offer a smile, even though it’s only about a quarter of one, and she snaps the last shot. Then, as she
bounces back upright and takes another bite, she licks her fingers and says, “Alright. What next?” The
whole liking her part doesn’t feel like pretend.
***
“Aren’t proposals supposed to be a secret?” Scarlett asks as we buzz around the resort. “From the bride
to be?” “Regular ones, yes,” I tell her as I speculate a wall of flowers in the garden. We are by the pool,
one of them anyway. The grandest of all the pools. It has a grotto, a waterfall, a bar, and a restaurant.
It’s perfect for a proposal that a world of speculators will see. “But considering this proposal is both
fake and celebrity status, it has to be premeditated.” “Right,” Scarlett agrees. “So, what are you
thinking? Just pop the question, make sure you give it enough time for people to post it all over the web
and then whisk her away to your room?” Donovan asks, and Scarlett’s cheeks turn pink and match the
flowers around us. “No,” I say. “I want a party.” “A party?” she asks. “A post-proposal party,” I state. “I
never took you for the partying type,” Scarlett jokingly mutters. “I never took him for the marrying type,
and yet here we are,” Donovan adds, but I’m in go mode. “It’s not for celebration so much as for face,” I
say. “The bigger the party, the smaller Conrad’s case shrinks.”
“He’s not wrong,” Donovan tells Scarlett. “If it was a pop the question, smooch and dash deal, it would
look rushed. A party, though, next to the pool with food and drinks and music and dancing, that looks
like it’s been planned out for weeks.” “Months even,” I add with a nod. “Tell management. I want our
top fifty guests present. I want more lighting here, overhead strings... what are they called?” “Fairy
lights?” Scarlett asks. “We get fairy lights?” “Yes,” I go on. “Also, find local bands in the area. Offer
whatever you have to bring in the best party of the year on Bale’s dollar. The media coverage they’ll get
for it should be a no-brainer. I’ll talk to the kitchen. I want the best... for the blog, of course.” “What do
you want me to do?” Scarlett asks. “I want you,” I say as I grab her hand and kiss it, surprising her and
pleasing some nearby onlookers hoping for a good photo of us, “to do what you do best. Document
everything. Show the world everything. And find a dress for tonight because if the last post you posted
is already lapping the globe, tonight’s announcement is going to break the internet.” I smile down at her.
And as a small group of people continue to gather and point and whisper, I decide to take advantage of
the moment by kissing her. One, it’ll look good for me and bad for Conrad. And two, I kind of just like
kissing her.