In a luxurious hotel suite at Innsbruck, 90 km from the glacier, Alex came out of the bathroom wiping his hair, and found Mark waiting for him in the bedroom, a map spread on the bed at the side. To his questioning eyes, the brown-haired man got a simple response from the black-haired model husband:
"Mark the area you have estimated. The sooner we have the test sample picked up, the sooner we can get things going."
Alex raised his eyebrows, then casually nodded and picked up the marker to make a red dot on the depicted mountainous area.
"Have the team go back immediately after getting the snowboard back."
Mark nodded as he stood up:
"I will."
Alex continued as he went to the wardrobe to take his pick among the new clothes inside:
"There is no problem with the suit, is there?"
Mark shook his head as he took the map:
"At first sight, no. It survived your stunts and the avalanche without any obvious sign of damage. We will have the definitive results later."
A satisfied smile spread on Alex's lips, and he nodded, then changed the subject:
"Alright. Remember to call Ga-yeong to hear from her. If she needs anything, she knows what to do."
Mark paused in his action of rolling up the map, and looked back at Alex:
"How long are you planning to stay here?"
Alex looked back, the corner of his mouth raised in a deep, playboyish smile:
"At least, we will not be going back today."
Seeing that, Mark didn't even need to guess to know why they were staying for a day more. He raised his hand to his head as if to keep the oncoming headache at bay, and took a deep breath, once again feeling that familiar old breath stuck in his chest:
"You, really… Can I resign?"
Alex turned back to the wardrobe with a careless laugh:
"Of course… not."
Mark exhaled, helplessly looked at Alex's back, his eyes lingering on the old scars that had only faded for the most part despite the years, then tiredly turned to walk away, and to schedule that call that would give him back some energy and motivation. At the door, he paused, having recalled something, and glanced back to call for Alex's attention:
"By the way, I got a call while on the way to the airport earlier in the morning. Sharon Kenner rejected the endorsement contract, so think about something else yourself. I'm off."
With that, he didn't drag his feet. He really did wash his hands off the matter and left quickly with large strides, without looking back. His behavior made Alex pause, then shake his head with a laugh before returning his attention to what he was doing.
Not long after, chicly but casually dressed, he also left the room, then the suite, a spring in his step, and an anticipatory grin on his face. Upon stepping out of the elevator on the ground floor of the hotel, the lobby manager immediately stepped toward him:
"Sir, your car has arrived."
"Good."
A Mercedes-Maybach SL 680 was driven before the door. He took the key, sat behind the wheel, then took off with a sharp screeching sound.
_ _ _
_ _ _
*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*
"Who is it?"
"It's me."
Sharon slowed down at the sound of that voice, then unlocked the door and opened it. Outside the apartment stood a woman in her thirties, her otherwise pleasing features a mask of quiet severity accentuated with the distinctive and strong air lent to her by the fiery red tone of her hair which she had combed on one side of her chest. In short, while she might not shine the brightest with her beauty, she did so with the impossible-to-ignore presence she carried about herself, one feminine enough, yet sharp and self-assured enough that it would not lose out to any man in any way.
The hard light her gaze condensed into fell onto Sharon who was holding the side of her head as if to keep some headache at bay, and she frowned. But the blonde barely reacted. After just one glance, she exhaustedly turned around to go back inside while letting a casual invitation float over:
"Come in."
The sound of the door closing behind her didn't make the blonde turn around. She went straight to the sofa and let herself fall back into the warmth that had not yet started dissipating, the end of her exposed legs regaining their place on the armrest facing the door while she pulled the cushion below her head in search of the comfort she had left to go get the door.
The red-haired woman walked over and sat down on the couch opposite Sharon. She looked at her for a while, taking in her tired posture, before looking into the blue eyes just short of being covered by the golden hair falling from the side of the face. After a moment of silence, she opened her mouth:
"Sharon, what is going on?"
Sharon calmly blinked, then casually replied:
"Nothing. Why did you come, Glenn? Did Gladys send you? I already told her that I'm not interested. She is my agent, not my mother. She can't force me into anything I don't want."
The redhead, Glenn, calmly shook her head:
"She is your agent and I am your manager. She didn't send me, but she did tell me what you said. So, why are you not interested?"
Sharon let out a breath. Instead of answering, she raised her head to look out of the window, at the lights already dotting the city under the dark sky.
"You came so late, did you bring any food?"
Having asked that, she didn't wait for any response. Rather, the handbag her guest had arrived holding had already given her the answer she needed, so she reluctantly rose and started to walk to the kitchen, her feet bare on the chilly floor.
"Sharon…"
Ignoring the call from behind her, the blonde tied her hair at the back, and opened the fridge to take stock of her options.
"Sharon!"
The harsh tone finally made her pause, and drop the nonchalant attitude. She let out another exhale, then took a plate of strawberries and a pot of sweetened yogurt out of the fridge. She came to drop them onto the kitchen counter, before finally looking at her guest on the other side. Taking a deep breath, she faced her squarely, and spoke with a serious tone:
"Glenn, I just don't feel like doing it."