Page 95 of Unbound
“Six to eight weeks, ideally completed before next spring.”
I nodded, groaning. “Fuck. Well, let's pencil it in for this winter.” The expense would be considerable, but I trusted Ibrahim's assessment. In five years, he'd never once exaggerated a maintenance need or understated a risk. I looked up, my stomach growling now. “Next.”
“We have received several requests for more themed fantasy suites in the main lodge, including a dungeon suite and a jungle safari suite.” Ibrahim's lips quirked with amusement. “It seems our guests are seeking more... adventurous accommodations during their stay.”
“Adventurous accommodations. I like the sound of that.” I grinned, picturing the sorts of adventures that might unfold in a jungle suite—tangled limbs and wild cries echoing through the night, perhaps a tasteful vine or two for creative positioning.
Ibrahim narrowed his eyes, as if reading my thoughts. “The Activities Committee has some ideas about summer celebrations.” He waved his hand dismissively as if this didn't interest him.
“The department heads from the front office, housekeeping, food and beverage, and specialty rooms have all expressed that this season was a good one, no real issues,” I continued, shifting to a moreprofessional tone. “Client satisfaction metrics are up three points from last year. Companion retention is holding steady at eighty-four percent. Not bad considering the rigorous standards and burnout potential in this industry. But—” I paused for effect, “—we had an employee resign during the probationary period.” I flipped over my sheet as I read. “However, the young man in question left on good terms and does not pose a security threat to the resort.”
Ricard with his aristocratic bearing and carefully controlled demeanor, and Theo with his refreshing blend of earnestness and raw potential. Their connection had been visible even to casual observers.
Their departure had caused quite a stir among the staff.
I leaned back, a smile tugging at my lips despite my attempt at professionalism. “Ran off with his prince charming, didn't he? We should all be so lucky.”
Ibrahim's expression remained impassive, but I detected a hint of amusement in his eyes. “While I wouldn't characterize it quite that way in our official documentation, yes, Mr. Bennett terminated his employment to pursue a personal relationship with a client.”
“Good,” I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. “Good for them.”
As silence settled between us, I reflected on Theo and Ricard's unlikely connection. In our line of work, we witnessed countless fantasies unfold, elaborate illusions crafted to satisfy desires that could never find expression in the outside world. But genuine connection?
That was rare. Precious, even.
We had built Dove Canyon as the ultimate escape from reality, a place where the limitations of ordinary life fell away, where fantasy reigned supreme. Our business model depended on the temporary nature of these encounters, on clients returning to explore new desires with different companions.
Yet occasionally, amid all our carefully crafted illusions, something authentic emerged.
Perhaps that was why their story captivated our staff. In a place dedicated to manufacturing perfect fantasies, they had stumbled upon something real.
Ibrahim's voice broke the quiet between us. “You're smiling.”
I hadn't realized I was. “Just thinking that sometimes this job offers unexpected satisfactions. We create a space for desire, yes, but occasionally we witness something more meaningful take root.”
Ibrahim studied me for a moment, his dark eyes thoughtful. “You're a romantic at heart, Vincent. It's an unexpected quality in someone of your position.”
“Don't tell anyone,” I said with a wink. “It would ruin my reputation as a shrewd businessman and purveyor of flesh.”
“Your secret is safe,” Ibrahim assured me, the corner of his mouth lifting in the closest thing to a smile I'd seen from him today. Then he stood. “If you don’t have anything else to add, I believe we are done.” He turned off his desk lamp and walked over to the other side of his desk to meet me. “Ollie’s meatloaf awaits.”
We walked together out of Ibrahim's office. I watched as Ibrahim locked the door with his keypad. “Y'know, Bram,” I said as my thoughts turned reflective, “success in our industry is kind of like that. A customer who doesn't return because they found what they were looking for. They found love.” I sighed. “There's something beautiful about that.”
“Is that so?” Ibrahim's lips twitched with amusement as we walked together down the hall toward the elevator. “That doesn’t make for the most successful business model. But you continue to surprise me, Vince. Who would have thought you the perfect sap.”
“Hey,” I shrugged, unabashedly defending my viewpoint. “The Ranch is all about love, after all.”
I'd built my success on understanding human desire, on creating spaces where fantasy could flourish without judgment. But beneath the spreadsheets and strategic planning, I'd never lost sight of what we were really selling: the possibility of authentic connection, however brief, however unlikely.
I winked at him. “Just sometimes with whips and chains attached.”
