10. Sean
Idon’t remember the last time I was told off like that.
I’m no stranger to confrontation, especially work-related ones. Over the years, I’ve ruffled a lot of feathers and have had my fair share of angry arguments. But there’s something different about Jess. Maybe it’s because the first time we met she was so bubbly and cheerful (annoyingly so), or maybe it has to do with the steadfast claim that she doesn’t care about money. How the hell—as hotel owner—do you not care about money? It could even be because during her passionate speech she had a bird hanging out on her shoulder like it was nothing.
One thing is for sure: it’s enough to give me pause.
I watch her walk away, eyes on her hips, noting that she doesn’t even slam the door behind her. She closes it respectfully, leaving me in silence.
What wedding did she sacrifice? She made a subtle reference to a rebound in the bar, but obviously, there’s someone in her past who left a bad impression.
Sitting in my favorite armchair, I stir my hot coffee, deep in thought.
Okay, fair is fair. She didn’t know who I was when we met at the bar last night. Thinking about the expression on her face when she walked into the meeting this morning further proves her point. Slowly, I’m starting to realize that my neighbor wears her heart on her sleeve. If she had been planning something, she’d have been smug and obnoxious about it.
I take a sip of the black liquid, and the bitter flavor surges on my tongue.
This does put me in an awkward situation.
The board is expecting me to buy her out. While there’s not exactly a time limit on this, sooner is typically better. Of course, there’s nothing in writing that says I can’t work with her. In times of transition, we often work with current and previous owners to ensure the process is as smooth as possible. Jess is clearly willing to work with me. I don’t see why I can’t extend that partnership further than I normally would.
My mind jumps back to that dimly lit bathroom at Swayze’s. I think about her smooth thighs and delicious clit, about how good she felt pressed against me and how eager she was. Having a woman be sexually avid like that did it for me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about being in charge of my personal life and bedroom. Yet, that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate initiative. My lips tingle at the memory, and I can almost taste her on my tongue.
I halt my thoughts.
There’s no guarantee she’s going to be easy to work with. There’s also no guarantee that she’s not going to defy me at every turn. I don’t need that kind of headache. Dealing with my father is enough to last a lifetime, especially considering the intensity of the process ahead.
Whatever happened, happened. It’s not going to have any influence on my decisions moving forward.
My cell rings.
“Yeah?” I bark.
“Mr. Blackwood?” Jasmine’s voice carries urgency. “I’ve identified the competitor rumored to be interested in acquiring Westerlyn Hotels.”
“Who is it?”
“Richard Rutherford.”
God dammit.
I knew it.
The situation couldn’t be more unfavorable for us. Richard Rutherford, the CEO and owner of the globally renowned Rutherford Plaza Hotels, stands as our most formidable rival. Possessing substantial wealth, abundant resources, and the influential power to make significant moves, he effortlessly dominates the chess board. His interest in Westerlyn is far from ideal, particularly in light of his previous triumph in an overseas hotel chain acquisition, where he outmaneuvered me by presenting a last-minute offer I couldn’t match.
I tell Jasmine to keep the info under wraps for now and end the call. After I polish off my coffee, I stand up to get myself something to eat.
The next morning, I head into my office before going to the hotel. I’m not exactly in the best of moods, and when I find my father already there, looking out the window with his back to me, I bite back an exasperated sigh. If I let myself into his office as much as he lets himself into mine, he’d fly off the handle.
“You just let yourself in?” I ask, sitting at my desk.
“That’s no way to greet your father.”
“It is when I find him randomly standing in my office.”
Dad turns around to look at me, not a trace of amusement at my jab. “Where are we on the Westerlyn account?”
“Norman’s signed the agreement, and I met with the other owner for our face-to-face introduction.”
“You’re not supposed to be meeting with her, you’re supposed to be convincing her to sell.”
“She’s not interested at this time.”
My dad arches an eyebrow. “You weren’t able to convince her?”
“Hardly,” I say, ignoring his jab, my voice deadpan. “She has invested significant time and resources into these hotels, and retirement isn’t a persuasive angle, given her age. Convincing her to align with our perspective will require substantial effort. If we’re not careful, we run the risk of her doubling down. She also has the respect of her staff, and I don’t doubt they’d be on her side if that happens.”
“Staff is replaceable. They don’t have to see things our way. There are plenty of other people in the city who’d be more than willing to have the job and do it the way we want.”
“I’m not going to fire her whole staff just to prove a point.”
“And that’s why you’re not on the board yet. You’re not willing to do what needs to be done.”
Something inside of me snaps.
Maybe it’s the cavalier way he’s willing to take away people’s livelihoods, maybe it’s him rubbing salt in the wound when it comes to me running the board. Whatever the case, anger and defiance rush through my veins at an alarming rate.
“I’m not on the board yet because you refuse to relinquish control,” I reply sharply. “Stop micromanaging me. I know what I’m doing. I’ve convinced hundreds of people to sell to us and my closing rate is higher than anyone else’s.” This includes him, and he knows it. “I’ll get her to sell, and I’ll do it my way.”
Dad doesn’t even flinch. “Do I really have to remind you that not too long ago, you encountered a significant loss to Rutherford Plaza Hotels?”
“Anything else?” I bark, refusing to revisit that topic again.
“You’ve always been so hotheaded, son. There’s no need to get worked up over a simple conversation.”
“Are we done here?”
“I’ll come back later when you’ve had time to cool off.”
Yeah, right. Of course he’d play things as if he ended the conversation. Douglas Blackwood can’t stand losing, even if it’s only verbally.
He turns to leave, but stops in his tracks. “Ah, hang on. But before I go,” he says, handing over some mundane document, “send this fax for me, will you? My fax machine is acting up, and Jasmine isn’t in yet.”
“There’s no fax machine in this company, except in your office. You’re the only one clinging to old technology.”
He exits my office, and I sit there for a moment, fuming.
Then I have an idea.
After a moment of reflection, I pick up my phone and dial the hotel’s number. Soon after, I’m transferred to Jess.
“Hey, it’s Sean. I need to meet with you this morning.”
After a few moments of silent contemplation, she says, “Eleven o’clock, my office.”
Ispend the next hour preparing and make it to the hotel with about five minutes to spare. Sarah’s desk is a jumble of files and thick folders, a clear attempt to fill the void left by Norman Whitman’s absence. She informs me that Jess is in Norman’s office—my new office for the time of the overhaul—and I find her standing by one of the shelves, eyes narrowed at the fax machine, meticulously entering a number. I open my mouth to speak, and before I can utter a syllable, she raises a finger and shushes me.
My eyebrows take a hike to my hairline. I’m not used to being shushed. “Did you just?—?”
She doesn’t even look at me. “Just give me a second.”
Eventually, she draws back and finally looks at me. “Sorry about that,” she says, giving me a surprisingly charming smile. “I have to send this fax to the magazine today.”
“Magazine?”
“Yeah, for the hotel’s ad reservations.”
“You don’t have to do that anymore,” I remind her. “Remember, I said we’ll start taking care of all that.”
Jess swirls the ice cubes in her coffee, still focused on the fax machine. “You also said that for now it’s business as usual. I figured I’d keep doing it until we have a solid plan moving forward.”
“Fair enough. But there’s a paperless way to do it, you know that, right?” I remark, as the fax machine’s dialing sounds permeate the room.
Jess chuckles softly, as if acknowledging their attachment to the traditional method. “Well, Norman loved his fax machine. The magazine’s department seems to prefer it too.”
I walk to the empty desk so I can sit. She looks up from the paper that is slowly feeding through the machine, giving me a strange look.
“What’s wrong?” I ask in confusion.
“Nothing, it’s just…that was Norman’s chair.”
It was fairly obvious from the start that there’s a father-daughter relationship between her and the former owner. I’m sure that’s part of the reason she’s fighting this deal as much as she is. And while I can empathize, my less emotional and more rational side doesn’t have time for such nostalgia.
“It’s my chair and office now. You’re going to have to get used to seeing me sitting in it.”
Finished with her task, she removes the paper from the machine and turns to me. Her expression hardens, and she grips her cup tighter. In a playful tone, she then says, “I don’t have to get used to anything, Mr.Blackwood.” She quirks her head at me. “Now, did you come here just to annoy me?”
“I had an idea this morning. One that I think you’ll want to hear.”
“I already told you I’m not selling.”
“I’m aware. You’ve made that abundantly clear,” I say. “So, I’ve decided to offer a compromise. Sit.”
She perks up and proceeds to take a seat in front of my desk. “What kind of compromise?”
“The kind that’s going to work for both of us.”
“I should hope so, given that that is the definition of compromise.” She crosses her long legs, observing me closely as she does.
I can’t detect even a trace of the heat and desire that was present at the bar. Now, there’s only apprehension, but also a hint of curiosity.
For a moment, I can’t fathom that the Jess sitting in front of me and the Jess who cornered me in the bathroom are one and the same. That Jess was sexy, seductive, and spontaneous, eager to have something quick and messy with a near stranger. The memory of her hot body along mine, her gorgeous tits pressing softly against my chest, hits me full force, and I have the urge to press her against the wall, push up her skirt, and pick up right where we left off. I want to feel those thighs around my wrist and her arousal coating my hand as I make her moan.
For a moment, I have to remind myself of where we are and draw my focus back to work, willing my dick to stay put.
I clear my throat, and say, “The compromise is this: You sell your shares, and in return, I’m prepared to provide you with invaluable insights. You and I join forces to enhance the hotel and align it with the standards of our fellow Blackwood properties.”
“That’s it?” She interrupts me. “That’s all you’re offering?”
“Hold on a second, I’m not done, I’m willing to increase my offer by?—”
“You hold on,” she says calmly. “I chose the wallpaper, every houseplant is hand-picked, I bought photographs at the flea market, I sampled hundreds of culinary specialties, I have so many more visions, and you’re offering me money? No, Mr. Blackwood, you have to do better than that. Much better.”
“That’s why I’d like you to remain in a managerial position.”
Her eyebrows rise in genuine surprise, clearly not expecting that as an option.
She blinks. Twice.
“Once you’ve sold your shares to me, you continue in your current position,” I explain, “as my employee on a payroll. Job security is a given—in fact, I guarantee that your position as ‘Director of Hotel Operations at Westerlyn Hotels’ is backed. You can maintain your current role and continue to guide the staff and shape the hotel’s future. Empowered by Blackwood capital, your visions can reach unparalleled heights.”
Jess is quiet, slowly oscillating left and right in her chair as she stares at me.
When she doesn’t speak, I add, “You’ll receive a more than fair buyout amount and salary. You’ll be a multimillionaire overnight. Set for life. Immune if the economy goes downhill.”
Even if money isn’t her priority, my offer is opening up a realm of business opportunities while preserving her decision-making power within the hotel. Her commitment to her staff, as she confided in me, will remain the priority.
Declining this opportunity would be outright foolish.
It’s a win-win deal for her.
I take it as a good sign that she hasn’t said no right away or thrown me out of the office—attempted to throw me out. I’d not leave willingly since this is now my office.
We sit in tense silence, although that tension is radiating more from her than it is from me.
My dick twitches in anticipation of her response.
“Quite the interesting proposal,” she finally says, her tone careful and measured. “Even if I entertained your idea and become your employee—what if we don’t get along?” She pauses, then shakes her head decisively, a firm no. “Too risky.”
God dammit.
I was close.
So damn close.
There has to be something she wants. What does a woman like her desire most? What can I offer her that can’t be bought? How do I get Jess Summers to sell, before my competition does?