8. Sean
Well, fuck. Didn’t see that one coming.
I’d say I’m surprised to see who Jessica Summers is, but the word “surprise” is a damn understatement.
My neighbor is the last person I expected to run into this morning, at least not outside of our apartment building.
The taste of her sweet pussy still lingers on my tongue.
Her pert nipples under my palms remain etched in my memory.
I still hear her plea for a goodnight kiss, and her disappointment when I opted not to grant her that wish. She slumped back, snoring peacefully.
But the moment she walked through the conference room’s door, and I registered who she was, I was pissed.
There’s no way this is a coincidence.
Okay, her being my neighbor might be. But everything that happened last night? The revealing outfit, the bedroom eyes, the flirting, the fooling around—it’s safe to say she knew who I was when she spotted me at the bar. If she indeed was aware of who I was—of which I’m certain—then I have every reason to believe that her advances were part of a rather unconventional business strategy.
It took everything I had to bite my tongue. I’m nothing if not professional, and I wanted to avoid discussions in front of Norman that may disclose information about our acquaintance. It wasn’t the time, and it definitely wasn’t the place. What happened between us should stay that way.
However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her think whatever scheme she’s orchestrating is working.
“I know you have questions,” I say, once Norman is gone, leaving any trace of emotion out of my voice. “This is all a lot to process.”
“You could say that.”
I rest my clasped hands on the table. “Before we get into all of that, I want to give you the opportunity to sell to Blackwood. We’re willing to pay a generous sum if you?—”
She doesn’t give me a chance to finish. Her answer is quick and sharp.
“No.” She shakes her head. “Not going to happen.”
She’s got a backbone, good. Usually, I appreciate a worthy opponent—one who doesn’t crumble in my presence or bend to financial temptation at the drop of a hat. However, with the board and my father watching my every move, there’s no room for games. “You know, it’s a professional courtesy to let someone finish talking before you shoot them down.”
“I don’t care,” she snaps, her breathing quick, her face flushing with irritation. “I already know the answer to your question.”
I raise my eyebrow. “You don’t even know how much I’m offering.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to sell.”
I’m prepared for this. Over half the co-owners we plan to buy out turn down the offer when it’s first presented. They all try to make it seem like it has to do with integrity or some bullshit like that. It never does. It’s all about the money.
I fix her with a firm stare. “Don’t turn your nose down at a payout so quickly,” I advise. “There’s a lot you can do with money. You’ve done a good job turning this place around. I’m sure there are other hotels that could benefit from your skills.”
“I’m aware of that,” she says. “And this has nothing to do with money. It isn’t the issue. I love this job. I love the work I do and what I’ve done to get Westerlyn to this point.” Her full tits rise and fall beneath her blouse as she glares at me. “Why would I want to buy another hotel and start from the ground up again? I’ve already done that, and now I’m ready to spend my time and energy making this place even greater than it already is. I don’t want to sell.”
She seems more determined than some of the others I’ve done business with, I’ll give her that. But the board has a strict policy when dealing with co-owners. There’s simply no way they’ll let this slide. I know them and my father too well. Blackwood working with a private owner like this? Never in a million years. It’s not how it’s done, especially not for the long term.
“Everyone says it’s not about money,” I start, “until they actually see the zeros on the check.”
Her expression says, “Go fuck yourself.”
Keeping a straight face, I reach across the table and pluck the pen and pad of paper sitting in the center. I tear off a piece and swiftly jot down my offer, where each zero packs a bigger punch when lined up on the page. Ultimately, it matches the same generous sum we extended to Norman. “This is what we’re willing to give. Take your time, think about it before you?—”
She doesn’t even look at the paper, instead clutches her arms in front of her breasts. “No deal.”
“Don’t allow emotion and sentiment to cloud your judgment. Let’s approach this logically, if only briefly.” Challenging a woman’s logic can be a risky move, but hey, we’re dealing with reality here.
She arches an angry-looking brow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean you’re throwing away a golden opportunity you’re going to regret someday.”
“I can assure you—today’s interaction is not the one I’m regretting right now.”
And there it is.
She’s the first to allude to what happened last night.
“This has nothing to do with our personal lives,” I say, not taking the bait. “We’re both adults. I don’t see why we can’t act like it.”
She huffs, and I can tell she wants to respond. Instead, she stares for a few seconds, takes a deep breath, then says, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested in selling, and that’s final. Now, if you’re done trying to buy my hotel out from under me, can we talk about this transitional phase and what it’ll mean for my staff?”
The switch nearly gives me whiplash.
I narrow my eyes and study her carefully, trying to figure out what angle she’s playing. For once, I’m having a hard time getting a read on her. She’s tough as nails.
I’m man enough to know when to back off.
This negotiation isn’t over, not by a longshot. There’s a time to play hardball and a time to wait. I get the sense that pushing any further is only going to make her shut down completely.
What I wrote down may be the first offer, but it doesn’t have to be the last. I have a feeling we’re going to do this dance for a while.
It doesn’t matter. She’ll wind up selling to me just like they all do.
“We won’t be rushing into any changes,” I clarify. “Initially, we’ll maintain business as usual. Given the current tension and the adjustment to a new co-owner, it’s crucial to ease into things. I plan to observe each department closely to understand their operations better. Once I have a clear picture, I’ll create a detailed schedule for implementing the Blackwood standards step by step.”
Typically, one of my managers oversees the adaptation phase.
This one, I’ll handle myself.
I rise from my chair, adjusting my suit jacket. Her eyes wander for a moment, and though it’s brief, I’m still able to clock her checking me out. At least her attraction to me doesn’t seem to have been faked.
“Shall we start the tour now?” I ask, motioning for her to stand and join me. “The sooner I see how things are run, the quicker I’ll be out of your hair. At least for today.”
“And how often will you be gracing us with your presence?” She rises from her seat, giving me a view of those long legs, and we exit the room together.
“Almost every day for the foreseeable future. Blackwood isn’t a large corporate shell. I’m not here to assume managerial responsibilities, but our aim is to make decisions that facilitate a seamless transition under Blackwood’s wing. We prefer a hands-on approach when it comes to our investments.”
“As long as you keep those same hands to yourself, we won’t have a problem.”
Inwardly, I chuckle. That’s rich, considering she was the one to come onto me last night. “Likewise,” I say. “But this isn’t the time nor the place to talk about that.”
“Agreed.”
Jessica proceeds to give me an extensive tour of the hotel. I’ve seen most of it already. Norman gave me a tour when we were first discussing the sale, and I’ve stayed here three or four times prior to that. It really is a nice space. They’ve struck a good balance between comfort and elegance, something that can be difficult. It’s clear that the money they’ve made has been pumped back into the property.
“I’m sure you know all the specifics already,” Jessica says as we walk. “But in case you need a refresher given your extensive portfolio,” she quips, and I let her comment slide, “we are a smaller hotel by comparison to our counterparts in the city. We have eighty rooms, with forty standard rooms, twenty deluxe rooms, ten suites—including the Presidential Suite—and ten executive rooms. All the furniture was updated and replaced just over a year ago. We also just finished a major renovation of our main lobby and suites, which I’m sure Norman told you all about.”
“He did. One of the things that made this sale so appealing was how many updates and upgrades the hotel has had over the last few years.”
“And despite it all, we’re making profit,” she says with a confident smile.
“Or, because of it. What about marketing?” I ask. “Norman said that was more his department, although you did handle some aspects of it. Who are you using to handle your marketing now?”
“You’re looking at her.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You’re running the hotel and handling the marketing? You know there are professionals who handle that sort of thing, right, Jessica?”
“Please, call me Jess. I’m well aware. And I’m open to passing on the responsibility to someone with hotel marketing experience, provided it fits within our budget.”
“That can easily be arranged. All the marketing for our hotels is done through the same company. I’ll reach out to one of my managers to get the ball rolling,” I say. “I admire you handling it yourself, but it’s best to leave it to the professionals.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Is this shade about me not taking your offer? Clearly, neither Norman nor I were completely inexperienced in what we were doing.”
“I’m a grown man, Jess. I don’t do ‘shade,’” I tell her with air quotes. “And while we’re back on the subject, you should know that I’m not going to stop trying to buy you out. Blackwood doesn’t do partnerships, and once I have a strategic blueprint for the integrational overhaul, there will be no stopping the progress.”
Jess halts her steps and turns to face me. The outline of her nipples hint under the fabric of her blouse. I’d like to feel them against my tongue. “You’re shameless, do you know that?” she asks, poking me in the chest. “You must know that!” My cock wakes with her touch. Her sharp breaths mimic the rhythm of her poking, and a flush of redness paints its way down her neck, determined to reach the curves of her freckled breasts. “I already told you that I’m not going to sell. Regardless of the money.” She pokes me again. “Not now.” Another poke. “Not ever.” Yet another poke.
With each poke, my dick jerks slightly, but I keep up my poker face.
“How many more times do I have to say it?” she asks, double-poking me, and my dick emulates.
“As many times as it takes, until we finally land on a number that’ll change your mind.”
She shakes her head, and with a final, firmer poke she says, “Not going to happen,” before lowering her hand.
“It always does,” I say.
“You’re relentless.”
“You have no idea,” I tell her. “Company battles make me hard.”
She gasps, and her nipples press firmly against her blouse. We stand facing each other in the hall, the air around us thick with tension. The fun tension from last night, the combative kind, the kind that gets your blood pumping.
“You know what, since you’re so keen on working alone, finish the tour yourself.” Jess backs away with her hands in the air in mock surrender. “I’ve got work to do. I’m sure you can find your way around. Just don’t bother my staff.”
“Our staff, you mean.”
She rolls her eyes and waves me off as she marches away. I stand there, enjoying the swaying of her hips as she goes.