The Ceo's Target

We just finished up. Come in.

Melvin Swernbach's eyes swept over the message for the fifth time. His lean tanned hands unbuckled his seat belt. He ran his hands through his jet black hair.

This meeting had lasted longer than all others. Some big change was bound to happen.

He tossed his keys at the valet as the doorman pushed open the main doors of the Swernbach Hotel. This hotel was one of the biggest of their chains of hotels. They had one in every major city in the world. It was a strange place for a man to choose to update his Will but his grandfather, George, had always had a strange taste in things. A strange taste in business, strange taste in houses and a strange love for Andrew.

Melvin frowned. Andrew could have their grandfather's heart but he wouldn't leave the hotel without progress. The larger share of his grandfather's wealth would be his by all means.

"Where's my grandfather?" He asked the receptionist seated at the gold gilded reception table.

She pointed towards the door leading past the lounge to the back of the hotel. "He asked that nobody-"

The rest of her words floated past his ears as he marched past the large red couches that formed the circular lounge area to the main french doors that led to the swimming and open bar area. He didn't understand why they would want to keep him from the old man.

Every other person wanted him around but the old man. Ever since Melvin bashed George's car at 14, the man had watched him like a hawk. He'd apologized for the car and they'd got him the latest model the next week but it wasn't enough.

He opened the door and the sunlight kissed his face as he surveyed the area. A waiter held a golden tray with a single glass of sparkling white wine on it. George lay on the beach chair beside the waiter and Gwen, his grandfather's lawyer's assistant, stood opposite the waiter.

"Grand dad." Melvin swiped the drink off the tray and took a swing before hugging the man. "Good aged stuff."

His grandfather remained still but blessed him with a pointed cold look. The one where his grandfather's eyes froze on a person and his brows seemed to smash together.

"Are you not happy to see me?"

"No one is happy to see the devil. Why are you here?"

"Can't I visit my beloved grandfather any more?"

His grandfather signalled to the waiter and the man took a small bow before leaving. Melvin stood where the waiter had sat before.

The older Swernbach sat up and eyed Melvin. "You look too happy. Whose fortune have you gambled away this time?"

"No. None of that. I'm just happy to see you."

The grandfather's eyes strayed to Gwen. "That will be all for now. Be sure to let Carter know the changes I have made."

"Yes sir." She bowed.

Their eyes met over the grandfather's head and he winked at her. She rolled her eyes before picking the files that lay on the small stool at his grandfather's feet. He would speak to her soon and they would do more than speak words.

"I find it very strange that you happen to show up every single time I think of making changes to my Will."

"It must be a gift. Or a sign that there is something good for me in there."

His grandfather snorted. "I'd believe that after I die."

"So, tell me what changes did you make this time?" Melvin clasped his hands together like a little boy who could not wait to stick his hands into the candy jar.

His grandfather remained stoic, unfazed. "And why should I tell you. You can wait for me to die like the rest of the family."

"That will take too long!"

"Well then, maybe you will learn some patience?"

Melvin guffawed. "I am patient."

"Then why are you bothering me about the content of the Will."

"Because you keep changing it." Every two months, the man had something to add or remove from the Will. There was no reason for that but he would not take any chances. "I just want to make sure that poor Andy still has a stake in the family after you leave."

"Andy will be fine. If I were in your shoes, I'd worry about myself."

George got off the bench, slipping his legs into his designer slippers and standing on his feet. A few wrinkles danced around lose flabby flesh on his hands and stomach but beyond that, the only tell tale sign of his age were the white strands of hair underneath his chin and on his head.

"Worry? Are you going to cut me off" Melvin's voice rose.

"Who's to say I haven't?"

"But.. But." Melvin looked around, his eyes sweeping the ladies in the pool, before turning back to his grandfather. "What have I done?"

"What haven't you done?"

Melvin sighed. The gambling business was just a way to catch some fun and he hadn't meant to burn down the family's summer home in that small British town. It was an accident.

It could have happened to anybody but he was unfortunately the last individual to host a party there and everyone thought it was his fault. If Andrew had thrown the party, no one would've said a word.

"But Grandpa. You know my heart is weak." He clutched at his chest.

The heart thing was something he'd started when he was five years old. Even though countless doctors, until the one he paid, had insisted that there was nothing wrong with him, his acting had got him everything he wanted. At least, almost everything when anyone else but Grandpa George was involved.

"How would I be able to survive without your money- I mean, your support."

"You work. Like Andrew does."

"He works like a donkey."

"But his inheritance is sure. Act like a responsible man and I'll think of what to do."

"What does that mean?"

"Figure it out, Melvin. I'm not getting any younger."

Melvin left the swimming area and sat in one of the lounge chairs staring around at the scantily clad girls before crossing his legs.

The artificial waterfall his father installed was one of the winning points of the Hotel. There were rocks that led up an open space in the wide lobby filled with exquisite furniture.

The water cascaded down the rocks in great wave foams and covered the entrance to small cave- which lead to the back side of the private underwater restaurant. One of his favourite parts of the hotel.

He eyed the fixture. No doubt, his Grandpa would praise Andrew for that too. It didn't matter that Andrew suggested it to their father.

He was the first child and if he hadn't mentioned anything about that part of the hotel being too boring to pick up girls at, Andrew wouldn't have said anything and his father wouldn't have built it. So, technically, he was responsible for the idea.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He picked it up and stared at Gwen's message.

Gwen: I'm waiting for you.

Melvin: Give me a minute. Where are you?

Gwen: By your car. Come out before anyone notices anything.

Melvin marched to the large two storey car park beside the hotel. He walked past the cars on the ground floor and with each step, anger filled his blood. What kind of Valet did not know that he liked to keep his car downstairs? What if something happened and he needed to escape, would he have to hunt the whole building to find his car?

Maybe, he'd have a talk with the hotel's manager and have the Valet fired. He found his teal Porsche on the second floor, beside the designated manager's car park spot. Of course, they wouldn't even park his car in the proper place. if anything happened to his car, there would be hell to pay for.

Gwen leaned against his car, jiggling his keys in her hands.

"Why did he give you my keys?"

"I said I was your wife." Gwen tossed it to him.

He caught it as she turned away from him, her thick black hair swaying around. He didn't know how she managed to bound her curly locks into a neat bun but each time he saw her, there was never a hair out of place, except when they finished their bed business.

He leaned towards her, puckering his lips.

She pushed his chest, pushing him backwards. "Stop it Mel. Someone could be watching."

"Then let them see."

"They could tell your grandfather."

"And so what?"

She rolled her eyes again and picked the file off the car bonnet. "Did you get what you came for?"

"The old man was as silent as a dead rat. Sometimes, I wish he'd just die and end everything. What did he change this time?"

"You know I'm not allowed to tell." She eyed him. "Just wait."

"If I have to wait, I'll be waiting until he dies. Come on." He held her arms. "I won't tell anyone. I think he's going to cut me off the Will permanently."

"What else did he say?"

"You know Gwen. You know the content of his Will better than anyone. So you can tell me."

"I can't." Gwen dropped her lashes. "He'll fire me if he knows I breathed even a single word. Besides, all I did today was give him the document to sign and he sealed it right after. If I open it Mr. Carter will know that I tampered with it. I could lose my job."

Melvin raised her smooth brown hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her fingers. "Let him do what he likes. I'll give you a better job."

"And who would help you with the legal procedures, then?" She giggled. "Listen, I did hear a couple of things about what they said and it seems like the Will is conditional."

"Conditional?" Melvin cranked a brow.

He was beginning to feel like his grandfather was about to pull the earth from beneath his feet. Like the time his grandfather refused to let him fly to Paris with the rest of the family because he failed his maths exams.

"Yes. It means you'll have to fulfil a certain stipulation before you get what he wants to give you."

Melvin swore under his breath and kicked his tyre before running his fingers through his hair. "I knew he'd pull something like this. Is this what he meant by being responsible?"

Gwen held his arm. "Is that what he said?"

"Yes, he asked me to become responsible and he'd think about securing my inheritance."

Gwen's face darkened and her full lips dropped.

He raised his head, staring at her. "What's the problem?"

"You're not going to like this but-" She began.

"Speak, you know my heart can't take the suspense."

"I don't know if I'm the best person to tell you but-"

"Come on Gwen." He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and shook her.

"I think you have to get married."

"What?" His jaw dropped.

"Yes." She fiddled with her left wrist where her silver wristwatch sat dainty-looking. "He mentioned something about you having a stable family and children or something-"

"You're kidding, Gwen."

"I know what I heard."

"But I can't-"

The sound of footsteps approaching their direction cut him shut. He faced the incoming person while Gwen distanced herself from him. The footsteps stopped and retreated.

He turned back to her. "Gwen?"

"Thank you for this insightful conversation Mr. Swernbach. I really must get to the office now."

He knew they couldn't bee seen together but he wanted to spend more time with her. It could be months before they saw each other again.

Maybe getting married would not be such a bad idea?

He caught her wrist. "You're going back to Carter, right? Can I give you a ride?"

"I brought my own car, Mel." She retrieved her dark sunshades from her bag and slipped it on. "Besides, that will complicate things."

Someone slammed a paper on Elaine's table. She looked up, pushing her glasses down her head in time to watch the person walk away.

She pushed back her swivel chair and leaned towards the table. Trying to peer through the glasses gave her headaches. She needed to change the lens as these ones were as good as gone.

She took off the glasses and laid them on the table, beside the mountain of manuscripts that she had to edit. Since she made the mistake once of signing an author that the company didn't want, they'd unofficially demoted her to slush pile reader and she now had the pleasure of reading the terrible manuscripts of hundreds of wanna-be-authors and rejecting their letters.

She picked the paper and held it closer to her face so that the letters would not all fade into some indecipherable blur. The first bold word on the middle of the page had her sitting up straight.

An interview.

With whom?

Her eyes scrolled down the letter and back up again as she rose to her feet, grabbing her glasses and fitting it on her face.

She had to squint to make out the shapes of things clearly so that she wouldn't bump into anyone on the road.

She squeezed the paper in her hand as she marched through the open office space and came to the office beside the main entry way.

Jean's office was one of the few ones that had a faux wall forming some kind of a cubicle. Elaine used to have one of those too, until the incident.

"What is this?" She held the paper in the air.

The slender woman kept typing on the computer, her pointed ivory nose, with a pink gem nose ring, faced the screen. "What is it, honey?"

"This letter was addressed to you. Why is it on my table?"

"Darling." Jean faced her with those shocking violet, almost pink eyes.

Elaine dropped her gaze to Jean's blue spaghetti's shirt glued to the white albino skin. No matter how many times she stared at Jean, she could not get used to those unnatural eyes. They unnerved her and Jean seemed to know what they did because she made it a point of duty to stare at Elaine whenever they met.

"Don't darling me." She'd had it with Jean's endearments. The woman seemed to have a name for everyone. "You can't expect me to do your interview for you."

"I'm taking up your failed project and I am not complaining." Jean eyed her.

Elaine took a deep breath and placed her hand on the sketch pad on the desk. "Listen. That's different."

"How so?" Jean reached into her desk and pulled out a couple of Taffy gums. "You want some?"

"No. I don't want some Taffy and I don't want to interview anyone."

"Your loss." Jean opened one of the Taffy and popped it in her mouth. "All you have to do is show up. You'll most likely meet the Executive assistant or maybe the assistant and they'll most likely reject the proposal. That's all."

"But that means I have to go there. It's all the way on the other side of the city."

"That's not a bad thing. You need to get out more." Jean faced her system and her fingers began to tap the keyboard again.

"I've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow. If I miss it, I'll have to reschedule. Who knows when the doctor will be free next?"

Dr. Roberts was the only doctor she could trust that would give her an eye exam and help her get her lens without emptying her account. He didn't charge much and he knew what he was doing. Because of this he had a lot of patients. She'd been on the waiting list for three months and her glasses were beyond damaged at this point. Probably detrimental to her eyes now.

"Not my problem."

"I'll do this any other day and take your next two interviews but I just can't do this one tomorrow."

"Ellie." There it was again. The pointed pink stare. "If you don't go to Swernback Co. for this interview tomorrow, I'll drop Timothy and that's all there will be to this."

"You wouldn't dare." Elaine picked a pencil from the stationery kit and pointed it at Jean. "Timothy is a slacker. You have a lot of free time. I barely have time to breath."

"Yes, but I didn't ask you to sign his book. Now, I have to rewrite everything if we are to meet his impossible deadline. I have to get all the free time that I can squeeze out. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to look for how to make the story of his first vomit sound less vomity."

Elaine squeezed the paper as her shoulder dropped. "Jean please, I can't miss tomorrow's appointment."

"Do you even care about me at all? I am your friend and I am trying to make things better for you. All you're doing is whining. If you don't want to go then, I'm not going to do Timothy's book anymore. Good luck finding someone who cares about you enough to do it, doll."

"No. No. Please."

If Jean quit, word would get back to the management and the management would get back to her. She couldn't afford another query. Living check to check meant that if she got another query, she'd have to go back to Aunt Meghan and Uncle Richard. Nothing in the world could be a worse fate than proving them right.

This Saturday was the first free one she had managed to squeeze out in four months and now she'd have to give it up as part of her compromise to get Timothy's book printed and to keep her job. She was compromising on far too many things than what she really wanted to get her dreams. It seemed like nothing she valued was hers any more.

And Jean was passing the buck to her because Jean knew the interview would be a failure and if she failed, it wouldn't be a bad record on Jean's book but it would appear on hers.

"Fine, I'll call Dr. Roberts and tell him to reschedule."

"That's great, sweetheart. Now, what's a less disgusting word for vomit?"

Elaine frowned, regretting the day she opened Timothy's first email.