Chapter 3 Damage Control

ALISTAIR'S POV

"I'm done. I am so fucking done."

I muttered, leaning back in my black leather seat, staring out of the window of the car, watching Boston's busy streets blur by. I'd arrived on time for the meeting, punctuality being one of my strong suits and expected to blow them out of the water with my pitch. But somehow, the entire thing was a disaster.

The presentation was a mess. My employees? Completely all over the place. I could see the panic in their eyes as they fumbled through the slides like nervous college freshmen giving their first-ever PowerPoint presentation. The whole thing was a colossal embarrassment. I felt secondhand humiliation just watching them fail so spectacularly.

I had to step in, save face, and cover for every single mistake they made, all while keeping a calm, collected smile plastered on my face. That's the part they never tell you about being a boss: you spend more time cleaning up after others than actually running the damn company.

At least I managed to salvage the deal but barely. One bad meeting wasn't going to ruin the reputation we'd built over the years. Sure, we were ranked the fourth-best entrepreneur business in the U.S., but all that could slip in an instant if I wasn't careful.

And then my assistant... Jesus Christ. She handed me the wrong files for the pitch. Instead of the updated expansion plans, I opened the folder to find last quarter's reports. In front of the investors. I had to think on my feet, make up numbers on the spot, and pretend like everything was fine-covering for her incompetence while acting like I had the situation under control.

As if that wasn't bad enough, one of the investors pulled me aside during the break. Apparently, my assistant wasn't just terrible at her job-she was also trying to sleep her way into better deals. She spent the entire meeting shamelessly flirting, even suggesting a "private discussion" later. The investor found it amusing. I didn't.

The second the meeting ended, I fired her without hesitation. I don't have time for that kind of bullshit.

I don't even remember the last time I got a full night's sleep. I was dying for at least twelve hours of rest. That's all I wanted-to lie down, close my eyes, and disappear into unconsciousness.

I picked up my phone to check on my hotel booking, already feeling the exhaustion creeping up on me. I was supposed to stay at a place near the airport, hoping for a quiet night. But when I called the front desk to confirm, they hit me with some bullshit excuse about a "system malfunction."

You've got to be kidding me.

I could already feel my headache making a dramatic comeback. I glanced at my driver, who was waiting for me to state the next destination, but I was too hung up on figuring out why today had to be such a goddamn disaster. Maybe the hangover still hadn't settled. Yeah, that had to be it.

I'm not getting a good night's sleep tonight, am I?

I ran through my options: I could find another hotel, but most of the good ones were already booked. Maybe go to a brothel and crash with some blonde, but I was too fucking exhausted to get my dick up.

Then I remembered Sutter. He lived around here. Had a place of his own now, right? I could crash there. Hell, I hadn't seen the kid in a while anyway-why not take advantage of the situation?

I pulled out my phone, searching for his number. The one person in this godforsaken world I could always count on. We've always had an... interesting relationship. He's a good kid at heart, smart, ambitious, but stubborn as hell and a playboy like his old man. Sometimes I wished he didn't take after me so much, but what can I say? Like father, like son.

I pressed the call button and waited. After a few rings, his voice came through, clear as day.

"Hey, Dad. What's up?"

"Hey, kid. How's the world treating you today?"

I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the pile of shit I was dealing with.

"I mean, it's alright. You know, same old, same old. Just heading out of town,"

he replied casually.

I frowned.

"You're heading out of town? Where the hell are you going now?"

"I'm at the airport, Dad. About to board a flight,"

Sutter said.

"Told you I was flying off to China this weekend. Don't tell me you forgot already."

I sighed, rubbing a hand down my face.

"Shit. For the tech gig, right? It totally slipped my mind, bud."

He laughed.

"I knew calling you while drunk was a bad idea."

I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my seat.

"Yeah, yeah. Try explaining that to the migraine that's out to get me. Work's been a mess, son. Sorry it slipped."

"It's cool, Dad. You've got shit to do, and so do I. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

"Alright, alright,"

I said, already feeling guilty.

"But listen, here's the thing-I'm in Boston right now, and my hotel's screwed me over. It's a mess. Can I crash at your place tonight?"

There was a brief pause before he answered.

"Yeah, sure. But Dad, I'm boarding now, so I won't be reachable once I land. I'll text you the passcode. Just take your time. You can use my place, no problem."

I exhaled a sigh of relief, a small smile tugging at my lips.

"Thanks, Sutter. I owe you one. Just... don't forget about me, alright?"

He chuckled.

"Wouldn't dream of it. But hey, take it easy, okay? No need to rush. My place is all yours."

"Alright, kid. Take care of yourself. Have a safe flight. And don't get into any trouble while I'm not around."

"Sure thing, old man,"

he laughed, voice a mix of amusement and warmth.

"Catch you later."

We hung up, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. At least I had a place to crash tonight.

"Take me to 1234 Ashford Street,"

I said to my driver. He nodded, and without another word, the car sped off, cutting through Boston's maze of streets.

It wasn't the restful night I'd hoped for, but Sutter's place would do. I could at least get a few solid hours of sleep.

But first, I needed to make sure everything was in order for the next round of business.