by Vi Keeland
“Uhhh... Yeah, that would be great. I’ll take a large black coffee and a blueberry muffin.”
“No problem.” This time I even managed to show my teeth with my over-the-top smile. Being sweet was almost like a new form of torture for Weston. Who knew? Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
As I turned to walk out, he stopped me.
“Wait. You’re not going to poison my coffee or something, are you?”
I laughed. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
My fake-cheery demeanor had seemed to sink in. On my way down to the coffee shop, I caught myself whistling. Not only did I enjoy making Weston feel off kilter, my neck really appreciated the lack of tension. I’d had a giant knot in it since I boarded the plane a few days ago.
When I returned to the office, Weston was still at the round meeting table. He’d written some notes on the list I’d given him and now had a yellow legal pad with even more scribbled notes, and he was scrolling through his phone. I handed him his coffee and the bag with his blueberry muffin, along with a chipper smile.
“I had them warm the muffin for you. Hope that’s okay. There are some butter pats in the bag, if you want them.”
His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Yeah, that’s great. Thanks.”
I took the seat across from him and peeled back the plastic tab on my coffee before picking up my pen. “Why don’t we start with my list? And when we’re done, you can tell me how things went with the union yesterday and what I can do to help there.”
“Okay…”
For the next hour, I ran Weston through the issues I’d discussed with Louis. After I finished, he slumped back in his chair.
“We have our work cut out for us.”
“Yes, but I think we’ll make a good team, and we’ll be able to whip this place into shape in no time.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely. If anyone knows hotels, it’s us. We both grew up in them, years before we even started working for our families. It’s in our blood. I’ve already reached out to two contractors we’ve used at Sterling properties before, and I set up a meeting with one of them at two o’clock this afternoon to discuss the construction that needs to be finished in the ballroom.”
“Why your contractors? I was in one of your buildings for a meeting last month, and the place wasn’t looking too hot.”
My immediate gut reaction was to get defensive, but I tamped that down and managed to ignore the insult, focusing instead on working together.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. We obviously need to get a few quotes, so why don’t you call in one or two of your people. We can see what they all come up with, and how fast each one thinks they can get it done.”
Again, Weston hesitated. “Yeah, okay.”
We discussed a few other priority issues, including how to handle an employee Louis thought was dipping into the petty cash, and filling five key vacant positions, two of which were assistant manager jobs. I also had a team of CPAs and lawyers coming this afternoon to start due diligence on The Countess so my family could formulate its offer to purchase the minority share.
Without too much disagreement, Weston and I even decided which conference rooms we wanted to set up our teams in. We then threw around some counteroffer proposals to the union’s offer we’d discussed earlier. All in all, it was a damn productive morning.
“Okay, well…” I shuffled the papers I’d spread out in front of me into a pile and neatened them into a stack. “This was a good meeting. I’m going to go talk to Louis about setting me up in an office somewhere, and I guess I’ll see you upstairs when the first contractor arrives.”
“You don’t want this office?” he asked.
I stood. “You look like you’ve already settled in. I can find another one. No big deal.”
We were about two minutes away from Weston feeling my forehead. Suspecting I’d made his head spin enough for the morning, my job here was done. “See you at two?”
“Yeah. I might be a little late. But I’ll meet you up there.”
Now it was my turn to be suspect. “Do you have something else planned?”
Weston got up and walked back to his desk, avoiding eye contact. “I have a meeting. But I’ll be back after.”
“A meeting? What kind of a meeting?”
“The kind that’s none of your business. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Unable to hide how annoyed his response made me, I left the office. I’d just laid all my cards on the table, and that little shit probably had something up his sleeve that he was doing behind my back.
This being friendly thing wasn’t going to be easy after all.
***
Sam Bolton had been doing construction in New York for my family since I was a kid—though I hadn’t known Bolton Contracting was now Bolton and Son. Travis, Sam’s son, introduced himself and shook my hand. He was handsome, in more a clean-cut-boss type of way than a contractor-who-swings-a-hammer look, but definitely nice looking.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “I didn’t realize William had a daughter.”
Travis meant no harm with his comment, but it hit home.
“That’s because he’s still hoping I’ll come to my senses and tie on an apron and stay at home, preparing for my husband’s arrival from work, like a woman should.”
Travis smiled. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but I’ve worked with Spencer, your brother, and I believe they make aprons to fit his size, too.”
I liked Travis already. “Half-brother, and I’m pretty sure he’d burn anything he tried in the kitchen.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, I thought I caught that look in Travis’s eyes. You know the one, a bit of a sparkle that shines when someone is interested in more than just your business. Though he was a perfect gentleman and did nothing inappropriate as I showed him around the construction space. Travis had been early, so a few minutes later, his father arrived. I’d also invited Len, the head of hotel maintenance, to join us, and he led the tour of what had been done and what still needed to be completed.
“What happened to the original contractor?” Travis asked.
“There were apparently multiple inspection issues that came up,” Len said. “Ms. Copeland was unhappy about the frequent delays, so she fired the contractor with the intention of bringing on a new one. At one point, she told me she gave a new contractor a deposit, but nothing was ever started.”
Great. Note to self. Add find out if a contractor was paid to start work and pulled a no-show to my to-do list.
“Everything pretty much came to a halt fourteen months ago when Ms. Copeland’s health took a turn.”
“And when do you need all of this done?” Sam Bolton asked.
“Three months,” I said.
Travis’s eyebrows jumped while his father blew out a deep breath and shook his head. “We’d have to have crews here around the clock. That means paying night differential, two foremen working overtime in twelve-hour shifts, and all sorts of extra benefits the union would require.”
“But it is possible to get it done?” I asked. “We have events lined up starting in three months and really don’t want to have to cancel them.”
Sam looked around, scratching his chin. “It’s possible. Not going to lie, I don’t like working like that. I won’t cut corners to get things done. Many times I’m at the mercy of subcontractors, so there’s always a chance something could go wrong, too.” He nodded. “But yeah, with those extras I think we could shoot for three months. We’d need to get down to the building department right away and see what the issues were with the last inspections and also take the blueprints with us today. But we can give it a shot.”
“How fast could you get me an estimate?”
“A couple of days.”
I sighed. “Okay. Well, let’s do that.”
Weston showed up just as we were finishing—more than a little late. Nevertheless, I kept the peace and even managed to smile as I made the
introductions. He and Sam got into a discussion about people they both knew and jobs they were both familiar with. I told Len from maintenance he could go, and that left Travis and me talking.
“Do I hear a bit of a British accent?” he asked.
I didn’t think I had one. But he wasn’t the first person to ask me that. I’d only lived in London for six years.
“You’re very perceptive.” I smiled. “I was born and raised in New York, but spent the last few years living in London. Apparently I picked up a few things while I was there.”
“What brought you to London?”
“Work. We have hotels there, and my father and I get along best when we’re on different continents.”
He smiled. “What made you come back?”
“This hotel. Plus, the timing was right. I was ready for a change.”
Travis nodded. “And not one that entails an apron around your waist, I take it?”
I laughed. “Definitely not.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught Weston looking over at Travis and me. It was the second or third time in five minutes. He was definitely monitoring our discussion.
After the Boltons left, Weston shook his head. “Those two are definitely not right for this job.”
“What? What are you talking about? They said they could get us an estimate in a few days and meet our crazy timeline. My family has worked with them many times over the years. They’re absolutely reliable. What else could we hope for at this point?”
“I just didn’t get the right vibe from them.”
“The right vibe? What vibe did you get?”
“I don’t know. Just an untrustworthy one, I guess.”
“That’s insane!”
“They can submit their bid on the job. But I wouldn’t count on my vote to give them the work.”
My hands flew to my hips. “And who, exactly, do you think is right for this job? Let me guess, one of your people.”
Weston shrugged. “I can’t help it if we use better contractors.”
“Better? How the hell do you know anyone is better than anyone else at this point?”
“Maybe if you paid a little more attention to what was going on around you, instead of checking out the contractor’s son, you’d be in the same mindset as I am.”
My eyes widened. “You’ve got to be joking!”
He shrugged. “Lust is blind.”
“Obviously! Why else would I have slept with you!”
Weston’s eyes darkened, his pupils blocking out most of the soft blue color of his irises. I could feel my face heat with anger, and… Oh my God, my damn belly did a little flutter.
Is my body insane?
It had to be. A sheen of cold sweat broke out on my forehead, and my body started to light up like a Christmas tree.
What the hell?
Seriously?
No. Just no.
As my head reeled from my body’s crazy response, Weston’s eyes dropped to my chest. I was mortified to find my nipples protruding. The traitors were standing at full attention, saluting this asshole through my blouse. I folded my arms across my chest, but it was too late. My eyes lifted to find a giant, wicked smirk on Weston’s face.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and counted to ten. When I opened them, Weston was still sporting a smug smirk, but his brows were pinched together, and his forehead was wrinkled.
“If you were hoping I’d disappear, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said.
I know I’m not that lucky had been on the tip of my tongue. But instead, I plastered on a sparkling smile.
Well, I was going for sparkling, but the look on Weston’s face told me it came out more maniacal Joker than anything. Yet I rolled with it.
Speaking through my teeth, I said, “Why would I want you to disappear? You’re so helpful. I look forward to meeting with your contractor.”
Since I wasn’t sure how much more I could take without losing it, I turned on my heel and walked toward the door. Without looking back, I said, “Have a good afternoon, Weston.”
He yelled after me, “I will. And don’t forget dinner tonight, Fifi.”
Chapter 8
* * *
Sophia
I arrived at Le Maison fifteen minutes late on purpose.
Weston stood as I approached the table. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”
I took my seat and folded a napkin across my lap. “I said I would, so I’m here. Though, why couldn’t we just have dinner in one of the restaurants at The Countess?”
“This one has dancing. I thought you might enjoy feeling my body pressed up against yours when we’re in public. I mean, we know how much you like it in private.”
“I’m not dancing with you.”
Instead of my refusal annoying him, Weston flashed his million-dollar smile. He really had a fantastic smile…which was irritating beyond belief. But I was hellbent on maintaining my composure this evening.
A waiter came over and asked if we’d like to see the wine menu. I took it and gave it a quick once-over, but decided rather than having hundreds of calories of wine to relax, I’d nurse one low-cal drink instead. I handed my menu back to the waiter. “I’ll have a vodka and cranberry with lime, please. If you have diet cranberry, that would be even better.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t have diet. Would you like regular?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
The waiter nodded and turned to Weston. “And for you, sir?”
“I’ll take a Diet Coke, please.”
This was the third time we’d been together and I’d ordered an alcoholic drink, yet Weston hadn’t. I considered questioning it, but thought that might just shine a light on my drinking on a weeknight, so I kept my mouth shut.
After the waiter disappeared, Weston looked me over. “Don’t forget about number two of our deal.”
It took me a few seconds to recall what the terms of our dumb deal even were. We’d agreed to me calling him Weston, dinner once a week, and me…wearing my hair up twice a week.
“Why do you care how I wear my hair, anyway?”
“Because I like to look at the skin on your neck. It’s creamy.”
I opened my mouth to respond, then shut it. His comment seemed sincere. I knew how to fight with this man. I knew how to discuss business with him, even civilly. But I had no idea how to take a compliment when he was being nice.
“Don’t say things like that,” I finally grumbled.
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
Since business was a safe topic of conversation, I folded my hands on top of the table. “I made an appointment for a second contractor to come tomorrow at nine AM.”
“I have Brighton Contractors coming tomorrow at eight. I’m sure we can cancel your appointment after we meet with Jim Brighton.”
“I think I’ll refrain from making that decision until after we meet with both. Unlike you, I have an open mind and have no problem considering all competent contractors, regardless of who brings them in.”
Weston dropped his napkin on the table and stood. He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
“I told you, I’m not dancing.”
“Just one dance.”
“No.”
“Give me one good reason why not, and I’ll sit back down.”
“Because it’s unprofessional. This is a business dinner, not a date.”
“So is fingering you while my belt is tied around your wrists. And you didn’t seem to object to that as unprofessional. Though, if you ask me, leaving me in the state you did the other night wasn’t your most professional moment.”
The waiter arrived to deliver our drinks. Weston continued to stand and wait for me to agree.
When we were alone again, I said, “I’ve clearly had a few moments of insanity. But those are in the past, and I intend to keep things between us professional from now on.”
Weston studied me for a moment. I was surprised when
he took his seat again without more of an argument. His thumb rubbed back and forth over his lower lip as he continued to consider me from across the table. After a minute, his face lit up. The only thing missing was a light bulb in a bubble above his head.
He grinned. “You think if we play nice, you won’t wind up with my cock inside you anymore.”
I shifted in my seat. “Must you be so vulgar?”
“What did I say?” He seemed genuinely confused.
I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Cock. Do you have to say it like that?”
He grinned. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again? I didn’t hear you.”
I squinted. “You heard me. I know you did.”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Maybe. But I really liked hearing you say cock.”
A busboy walked by our table just as Weston spoke. The guy looked our way and smirked, but kept going.
“Keep your voice down.”
Needless to say, he didn’t. “Is it just my cock you don’t like talking about? Or is it all cocks in general?”
I rolled my eyes. “God, you’re such a twelve-year-old boy.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But I know what game you’re playing now. You think no fighting equals no fucking.”
“I do not,” I lied. “I’m merely trying to maintain a professional relationship that started out on the wrong foot.”
Weston plucked a breadstick from the middle of the table. “I like the foot it started out on.”
“Regardless, we’re going to do things my way.”
He bit off a piece of the breadstick and waved it at me. “We’ll see.”
Over dinner, I somehow managed to steer our conversation back to business. While we were waiting for the check, I said, “I had Len, the head of maintenance, join me to show the contractor around this afternoon. He was gone before you got there, but I was glad I’d invited him. He was able to walk Sam and Travis through where things were left off with the electric and sprinkler systems that I wouldn’t have known. I asked him to join us tomorrow for the other contractor I have coming in. Perhaps you should invite him to the eight-AM meeting with your guys.”