by Vi Keeland
“Alright, I’ll do that.”
Talking about this afternoon reminded me just how late Weston had been to the meeting. Since we were getting along and doing so well at sharing information, I figured I’d press.
“By the way, why were you so late this afternoon? You never mentioned what your appointment was for.”
Weston’s eyes jumped back and forth between mine before he looked away. “You’re right. I didn’t.”
I sighed. “Whatever. I just hope you’re not playing games, like when you went to the union behind my back.”
“It won’t be a problem.”
The Countess was five blocks from the restaurant, so we walked back together, side by side. On our way, we passed a bar called Caroline’s. I noticed, and immediately looked over to see if Weston had noticed it, too. I found him staring at the illuminated name above the bar. His eyes slanted to mine as they lowered. It felt odd not to say anything.
“I was very sorry to hear about your sister,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
Caroline Lockwood was two years older than Weston, but only a year ahead of us in school because of how frequently she was absent. She’d suffered from leukemia from the time we were kids. I knew there were different subcategories of the disease, and wasn’t sure exactly which type she’d had, but she’d always looked tired and too thin when we were in school. When we were about eighteen, right after we graduated, I remembered hearing she’d had a kidney transplant. Her family and friends seemed very optimistic that things would get better from there. But about five years ago, while I was living in London, I’d heard she passed away.
Weston stopped when we arrived in front of The Countess. He looked up at the beautiful façade and smiled. “Caroline would have loved this place. She studied architecture at NYU and got a job at the New York City Historic Preservation Society. She thought it was her personal duty to protect the character of the City’s oldest buildings.”
“I didn’t know that.”
He nodded, still looking up. “She was also obsessed with Christmas—thought it was her job to sprinkle it on everything for two full months each year. If she were here, she’d have us both already in planning meetings about how we were going to decorate The Countess at the holidays.”
“I know a little trivia about Christmastime at The Countess, actually. And it involves our families. When I was researching the hotel, I came across some old pictures where there was an enormous Christmas tree in the lobby. I also read a few hundred of the hotel’s reviews on Tripadvisor so I could get a sense of what people thought about their recent stays, and I noticed there were quite a few reviews written during December where people noted that the hotel had no tree and very few holiday decorations. I asked Louis about it, and he said the first few years they were open, our grandfathers would go out in search of the biggest tree they could find, and the three of them would personally decorate the tree from top to bottom. It was one of Ms. Copeland’s favorite things to do. After everything happened between the three of them in 1962 and they parted ways, there was never another tree lit in the lobby. Grace loved having a big tree, but couldn’t bear to put one up because of the memories it brought. She always felt bad that she’d caused the destruction of our grandfathers’ friendship, and she hoped one day they’d bury the hatchet and a tree would again be lit in the lobby.”
“No shit?”
I nodded. “Yup. So there hasn’t been a tree or any real Christmas spirit here since before we were born.”
Weston was quiet for a while as he continued to look up. “I guess Grace and I have something in common, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t put up a tree or decorated since Caroline died either. When we were kids, she would make me spend hours helping her decorate the house. As she got older, she made me come over on her birthday, November 2nd, and spend the entire day helping her decorate. She did it on her birthday because it made it harder for me to say no.”
I smiled. “I love the relationship you two had. In high school, I remember seeing you guys walk home together all the time, or I’d see you laughing together in the hall at school. It used to make me wish I had a sibling.”
Weston looked at me with a warm smile. “What? Good old Spencer doesn’t count?”
I laughed. “Not a chance. Plus, even if we did get along, he grew up in Florida where my father stowed his second family. So I didn’t get to know him too well. And maybe he never had a chance with me because of how he came into my life.”
Weston seemed to consider something for a moment. “Would it help you to have some dirt on him?”
“Help? I’m not so sure. But would I enjoy it? Absolutely.”
He smiled and leaned in a bit, even though the sidewalk around us was empty.
“Your half-brother with the sweet, Southern fiancée and the engagement announced by her pastor father in The New York Times—well, he’s screwing a stripper in Vegas who’s a well-known dominatrix.”
My eyes widened. “I knew you had dirt on him the other day at lunch.”
“They stay at a small hotel-casino on the outskirts of town. I guess so nobody will notice them. Don’t think Spence knows I’m a silent partner at The Ace. Saw them together with my own eyes. Then I asked around. It’s been going on for a while.”
I shook my head. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Since Weston had shared, I thought I’d let him in on a secret of my own. “You want a little dirt most people don’t know?”
Weston smiled. “Absolutely.”
“Spencer and I are only six months apart. He’s a year younger in school, so people don’t realize that. My upstanding father had both his wife and his mistress pregnant at the same time.”
He shook his head. “I never liked your father. Even when we were kids, he struck me as shady. Your grandfather, on the other hand, always seems like a decent guy.”
I sighed. “Yeah. Grandpa Sterling is really special. I don’t see him often enough now that he moved down to Florida. After my dad left my mom, he really stepped up for us. He never missed a school recital or a tennis match. A few afternoons a week, I used to follow him around one of his hotels after school. Even back then, I saw the difference between how my grandfather and my father treated staff and how staff treated them. Grandpa Sterling’s employees revered him, much like Grace Copeland’s staff seems to have loved her. Whereas the staff feared my father more than respected him.”
“I guess every family has its black sheep.”
I nodded. “They sure do.” Realizing I’d shared a lot more about my screwed-up family than he had, I asked, “Who’s your family’s black sheep?”
Weston shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down. “Me.”
I almost laughed. “You? You’re the prince of the Lockwood family.”
Weston rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “You want to know a Lockwood secret?”
I smiled. “Absolutely.”
“I was never the prince of the Lockwood family. They only had me for spare parts.”
My smile faded. “What do you mean?”
Weston shook his head. “Nothing. Forget it.” He paused and then tilted his head toward the door. “I’m going to check on something in the office before I call it a night. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Umm… Yeah. Sure. Have a good night.”
Chapter 9
* * *
Sophia
The next morning was busy. Weston and I brought the two contractors through the construction site together, and then I headed down to where our legal and accounting team were set up in a conference room. The smile on my face as I opened the door wilted almost immediately upon entry. My father sat at the head of the table. I hadn’t even known he was back in town…or perhaps he’d never left.
“I thought you went back to Florida?”
My father gave me a stern look. “I’m obviously needed here.”
“Oh?” I folded my arms over my chest. “Did someone tell you that?”
I realized there was a room full of men with their heads swinging back and forth, watching the exchange between my father and me. I tilted my head toward the door. “Could we…talk outside for a minute?”
Dear old Dad looked like he really wanted to say no, but instead he let out an exasperated sigh and marched to the door.
Outside, he spoke before I had the chance to. “Sophia, you’re in over your head. You can’t run a hotel and lead a team to perform due diligence so we can make the winning bid to that shareholder.”
I shook my head. “I thought we discussed this at dinner. If I need assistance, I’ll call you.”
As usual, my father ignored me. “You should be focusing on getting information out of the Lockwoods.”
“What information?”
He sighed, as if he couldn’t believe he had to explain everything to me. “We agreed to a sealed-bid process. But it would be helpful to know what the Lockwoods will be bidding so we can best their offer without losing our shirts.”
“And how would you like me to do that?”
“That young blood who came to your defense the other day thinks you’re a damsel in distress. Use that against him.”
“What are you talking about?”
I wanted to think I didn’t understand him, because it was unbelievable to me that a father would suggest such a thing to his child. Or maybe I didn’t want to believe that mine cared more about money than whoring out his only daughter.
“Use your feminine wiles, Sophia. Lord knows you inherited those from your mother.”
I felt my face heat. “You’re serious?”
“We all have to do things at times for the sake of the family.”
I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath before answering. “Which family are you doing things for today, Father? Would that be the one you walked away from when I was three weeks old, or the one where your mistress was nineteen when she got pregnant?”
“Don’t be a smartass, Sophia. It’s very unbecoming of you.”
As per usual, trying to have a professional conversation with my father proved fruitless. I had better things to do than stand here and argue with him, so I gave in…for now. He could win this battle, but I knew exactly what I needed to do to win the war. Plus, the valuation of this hotel was going to take weeks, and my father’s wife would never tolerate him being gone that long. I’d outlast him for sure.
“You know what? Why don’t you work with the valuation team? I have plenty of other stuff to keep me busy.”
He gave a curt nod. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”
I extended a plastic smile, though my father had never spent enough time with me to understand my sarcasm. “Oh, I understand you perfectly, Dad. I’ll see you later.”
***
“I saw Billy Boy is back.”
I’d been working behind the counter at the lobby reception desk when Weston walked up behind me. He stood a little too close, so I moved to a computer three spots over and hit the space bar to wake up the operating system.
“You seem to have a lot of free time to wander around the hotel and check out what my family and I are up to,” I said. “It’s too bad you don’t use that time to do something helpful. While Louis is working on filling the open positions, the staff is short-handed. I’m sure they could use you to clean some toilets, if you have nothing to do.”
Weston followed me over to where I’d moved and leaned one elbow on the counter, facing me while I typed. “Doesn’t look like you’re too busy yourself, moving around from computer to computer.”
I sighed and motioned with my hand. “Do you see anyone else here? I’m helping out so Louis can do interviews upstairs for the assistant manager positions. One of the two reception clerks is in the back working on assigning rooms for new check-ins, and the other is at lunch.”
“Trying to win employee of the month already?” He chided. “Such a kiss ass.”
Renée, the woman who worked the reception desk, came out from the back. She looked at the two of us and said, “I’m sorry. I can come back.”
“No, no. It’s fine,” I assured her. “You’re not interrupting anything. What can I do for you?”
She held out one of those little cardboard room key holders with a plastic swipe card inside. “I switched your room. Would you like me to have housekeeping go up and move your stuff?”
I shook my head and took the key, slipping it into my pocket. “No, that’s fine. I’ll pack it up and move later. Thank you, Renée.”
Once she walked away, Weston squinted at me. “Why are you changing rooms?”
“I wanted a bigger one. When I checked in, no suites were available.”
“They weren’t when I checked in either. Where are you moving?”
I knew my answer wasn’t going to go over well. “One of the presidential suites.”
“I asked for a suite when I arrived, too. How many are available?”
“Just the one.”
“So why do you get it?”
“Because I’m the more diligent employee and followed up first thing this morning. Where were you? I saw you disappear bright and early out the front door.”
“I had a meeting.”
I perked a brow. “Another meeting? Let me guess. This one is secret, too?”
Weston’s lips pressed into a straight line.
I offered a knowing smile before walking down to the other end of the counter. “That’s what I thought.”
He followed yet again. “If two guests checked in and both requested an upgrade, how would you decide whom to give it to?”
“I’d give it to the one who requested it first.”
“That’s right. So that’s what we should do here.”
I’d had to wait for my checked luggage after our flight while I’d watched Weston breeze right out the door at JFK. I didn’t see him again after that until the next morning, so it was safe to assume he’d checked in first. He was technically right on what should happen here. But I’d had a lot of trouble falling and staying asleep the last week, and I thought having separate rooms to work and sleep in might help my mind relax better. Every time I looked over at my growing pile of work or my laptop, it made me think of ten other things I needed to jump out of bed and write down on my to-do list.
I sighed. “Could we at least alternate? A week at a time, perhaps?”
“Or…we could share it. We both know how much you enjoy being alone with me in the bedroom.”
I scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Your loss.”
I shook my head. “I’m sure I’ll be kicking myself for turning down such a generous offer.”
Weston moved to stand directly behind me as I looked down to type into the reception computer. “You look beautiful with your hair up, by the way. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
He was so close that I felt the heat from his body on my back. “I didn’t do it for you to appreciate. Just living up to my part of the agreement we made—regardless of how stupid I think it is.”
Weston inched closer. His breath tickled my neck when he spoke again. “So you didn’t think of me at all when you were looking in the mirror getting ready this morning? I think you did.”
I had thought about him while I was putting my hair up. He’d told me he liked to look at my neck, and the thought that he might get off on it today had made me anticipate seeing him all morning. But I would never admit any of that.
“Contrary to your belief, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Especially mine.”
“Do you want to know why I love your neck so much?”
Yes. “I don’t really care.”
“I love your skin. When you wear your hair up, I can stare at your neck without you knowing I’m looking. Like this morning, while you were getting your coffee at six twenty.”
Maybe it should’ve felt a lit
tle creepy hearing he’d watched me grab my morning coffee, but for some reason, it didn’t. Oddly, I found it kind of erotic that he stole glances when he could. Though I tamped down that feeling. “I think you need a hobby, Weston.”
“Oh, I have one I quite enjoy.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Next time, I think I’m going to fuck you while you look in the mirror you use to put your hair up. So whenever you stare at your reflection, you won’t be able to see anything but me watching you come while I’m buried deep inside you.”
I was certain that if I backed up a few inches, I’d bump right into a steely erection. And though I was currently wearing my hair up as part of a bargain to keep what had happened between us private, I had the strongest urge to take a step back and find out, even while standing in public for anyone to see.
Luckily, a couple walked through the revolving door and headed right for the front desk, shaking me out of my moment of almost-insanity. Weston took a few steps back as they approached and then disappeared altogether while I checked them in. I took a deep breath and tried to focus, though the short training Louis had given me this morning on the hotel’s guest registration system seemed to have gotten lost in my lusty haze of a brain, and I had to get Renée from the back to help me finish.
Not too long after that, I got back in the swing of things. I spent a few more hours working the front desk, and then went to check in with my family’s team working on the valuation in the conference room upstairs. To my happy surprise, my father was no longer there. I sat with Charles, the senior manager of the audit team, who was in charge of the project. Three men and one woman sat around the table, buried in paper as they combed through the hotel’s assets. Charles told me he would be bringing in a few art evaluators to assess the market value of some of the paintings scattered throughout the hotel, as well as an antiques expert. My hour-long conversation added a dozen more things to my to-do list, and when I looked down at the time on my phone, I couldn’t believe it was almost six o’clock.
“Did my father say if he was coming back tonight or tomorrow?”