Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
H elp? How in the world was I going to help Graham?
His expression had turned contemplative, and I wanted to know what he was thinking. Part of me wanted to take back my confession, erase my moment of weakness when I’d told him the truth about the chateau and my blog. But another part of me felt such a profound sense of relief, of release.
Graham understood. And it was nice to know that I had someone like him—powerful, business-savvy—in my corner. Even if it was only temporary.
A knock at the door to his suite interrupted my thoughts. Graham was already on his feet, answering it and returning with a bowl.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Dry rice. For your phone.” He went over to my phone and placed it in the bowl.
“Thank you,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if it would actually work. Like my efforts to save the chateau, it might be too little, too late.
He grunted, returning to the bar, pouring himself another drink before holding up my almost-empty glass. I hesitated then said, “Okay. Maybe a little more.” I held up my thumb and forefinger.
While his back was turned, I patted my hair, paranoid that my wig had moved out of place even though I knew it was unlikely. The wig was made to look natural and to allow me to do any number of activities, from dancing to swimming. I knew that. And I knew how well it could hold in place, but I still found myself checking it frequently.
I wasn’t ready to feel completely naked before Graham. The fact that I was wearing nothing but a robe while he was dressed in slacks and a crisp button-down shirt was bad enough.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him in anything else. I wondered if that was exhausting. To always seem so put together. So on top of everything. If he wore his uniform like a shield, just as I wore my wig to cover my insecurities.
He placed our glasses on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch once more. “How much do you think you need for the renovation?”
I sank back down into the cushions, taking the glass in my hand. “My architect and I plan to do it in phases. Right now, we’re working on getting the roof and stone facades restored.” That had been a huge relief, even though it was far from finished. Once it was, though, the west wing would be watertight, and I’d finally be able to start on some of the interior projects.
“For that portion alone,” I continued, “the estimated cost is one million euros. With a projected timeline of two years. Fortunately, the DRAC agreed to support sixty percent of that.” The maximum amount of funding the Direction régionale des affaires culturelles could provide.
“And you pay the other forty percent?”
He acted as if €200,000 was no big deal. Though, I supposed, to him—a man with billions in his bank account—it wasn’t.
“Yes. For that phase of the works.”
“And after that?” he asked.
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
I explained how the heritage funding worked and what it did and didn’t include. I was overwhelmed just thinking about the scope of the project and the potential cost.
“If you had to guess…”
“I honestly don’t have a clue. That’s what makes this such a risk. There’s extensive damage on the second floor. And that’s what’s obvious. There’s just no way of knowing an accurate cost until we get someone in there. Then there are the furnishings, textiles, and amenities.”
“Do you have a number for those?”
“Well…” I hedged. “I created several levels. A budget reno, a middle level, and a dream level.”
“How much for the dream level?” he asked.
“If I had to guess…” I blew out a breath. “And bearing in mind that this could change based on whatever issues we find with the interior…twenty million,” I finally said, knowing he wouldn’t let it go.
It was a pie-in-the-sky dream renovation that would restore the chateau to her glory and modernize it for guests. It also, hopefully, gave me some padding in case something unexpected came up. Which, at the chateau, it always did. But the number made me sick to my stomach.
“How many rooms does it have?”
“Forty-five,” I said. “Though not all of them will be guest rooms.”
He let out a low whistle. “Quite expensive for a boutique hotel.”
“It’s worth it,” I said, trying not to sound too defensive. “I’ve done the market research. I’ve done the math. As long as I can get it up and running quickly, the investment will pay off. The location is great for a weekend getaway or a longer stay. It’s nestled outside this small village in the Loire Valley about two hours from Paris, and it’s idyllic. Perfect for weddings. And the type of clientele who will be attracted to it won’t bat an eye at the cost-per-night.”
An emotion passed through his eyes, something I couldn’t name. Something like pride. Admiration. Respect.
Or maybe that’s just what I wanted to see.
I broke eye contact, dropping my head. It was something I’d been guilty of in the past. Believing what I wanted about a situation with my family. With guys I’d dated. Imagining that their feelings were stronger than they were. That things were more serious.
I was done with that. Auntie Jackie had always said that people showed you who they were through their actions, not their words. She’d always shown me her love and support, as had Jo. The rest of my family, not so much.
“And what’s the projected timeline until completion?”
I was surprised that he was so interested in my project, though I supposed I shouldn’t have been. Graham loved the development phase.
“At this point, completely unknown.” Despite the fact that I’d worked my ass off for the past year. That I’d invested my blood, sweat, tears, and my entire inheritance, plus most of my life savings, into the building, and I might never recoup it. My stomach churned. “Mostly because I don’t have the necessary funds.”
“I assume you’ve reached out to lenders?”
“Yes, but no one wants to take on the risk.”
“Mm.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It is one hell of a risk. What made you decide to take on such an enormous project?”
“Owning a boutique hotel has always been a dream of mine. It’s why I got my degree in hospitality, why I worked for you, why I started my blog.” I could feel my skin growing warm, but I kept talking, my words coming faster. “I know I’m young. I know I’m in over my head. But I’d rather risk everything than always wonder…what if?”
I recognized his expression as his deep-thinking mode. He was contemplating something, so I remained quiet, giving him the space to work out whatever it was. I knew Graham needed time to process his thoughts. He was conscious of his words and the way he wielded them. So I sipped my whiskey and curled into my robe.
Graham turned to me. “I could do it. I could take on the cost of the restoration.”
My jaw dropped. Surely I’d misheard him. I’d assumed he was asking questions because he was curious. Not because he was considering investing. Or maybe he wasn’t interested in investing. Maybe he wanted to acquire it.
“I appreciate the offer.” More than he could ever know. “But I don’t want to sell the chateau. I don’t want the Huxley brand to take it over.”
“I figured as much. And I wouldn’t want you to relinquish it.”
I frowned. “Then what do you want?”
There was no way Graham—or anyone in their right mind—would give up that kind of money without expecting something in return.
“Marry me.”
“What?” I choked on my drink. “Are you okay?” Maybe I needed to call the resort doctor for him.
That was the last thing I would’ve expected him to say.
“It would be purely a business deal,” he hastened to add, ignoring my question. “I’d be your silent investor. The money would go through a trust. And we would be married in name only.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted.
Graham didn’t do relationships. I’d never seen him date while I was working for him. And while, yes, he could be very secretive, I’d known his calendar back to front. I’d spent lots of time with him. Besides, if he had been dating someone, there was no way his family would’ve kept quiet about it.
I paused at the thought of Graham’s family. Knox, Nate, Jasper, and Sloan. Knox and Nate were technically his cousins, but he’d always referred to them as his siblings. The five of them had always been close—raised by their grandparents after both sets of parents had perished in a tragic plane crash.
I liked them, respected them, especially Jasper and Sloan. I’d spent the most time with them, interfacing with them as Graham’s assistant. My expression soured at the idea of deceiving them. Lying to everyone.
“Why?”
I could understand wanting to be a silent investor. It was the marriage component that made zero sense.
“You need money, and I need a wife.”
That was cryptic. I mean…why did he need a wife?
“What would you get out of this? Out of marrying me?” I blurted, still in shock.
There had to be some catch. Some… something . What could he possibly stand to gain from marriage, let alone to someone like me?
Marriage to me wouldn’t offer him more status, money, or power.
He dragged a hand through his hair, the waves springing back after he’d released them. “You know how the board is. They want stability.”
“And you’re willing to go through with a sham of a marriage to appease them? Seems a bit extreme.”
No. There was something more. Something he wasn’t telling me.
I thought through everything I’d seen about the Huxley Grand in the news. And then I remembered a recent article that had popped up on my news feed about a scandal within the Huxley brand.
“I’m sure your board isn’t happy about the decline in stock prices either,” I said, trying to put the pieces together.
He arched an eyebrow, indicating that I was on the right track.
“And I’m guessing they’re looking for reasons to oust you from power, especially—” I screwed up my face in disgust, remembering one of the board members in particular. He was always sort of slimy. “Frank? No. Fred.”
Graham narrowed his eyes at me, and I knew I was right. I was onto something.
He leaned back, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You’re remarkably well-informed.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I pay attention to the industry.”
“The industry or me?” he challenged.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Though he was closer to the truth than I cared to admit.
“Have you seen my other recent press?” he asked. I shook my head. I’d been between trips and swamped at the chateau. “They’re calling me a cold, heartless billionaire.”
As much as he tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, I could tell it did. Interesting.
“I thought you didn’t care about other people’s opinions.” I was teasing. Sort of.
“I don’t. But the board does. Our marriage would not only refocus everyone from the recent scandals and dips in stock prices but show the board I’m a family man looking toward the future.”
Wow. He was serious. And he was talking about this as if it were a done deal. I knew it was a common negotiation tactic, but still…
“This could benefit both of us,” he said. “I’d provide my money and my expertise for the restoration. And you could help me show everyone that I’m capable of loving someone other than myself or the business.”
“And how exactly would I do that?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“You could—” He shrugged, and I’d never seen him look so hesitant. It was honestly kind of cute, the way his cheeks flushed with color. “Give me pointers on how to be myself but show a softer side.”
I furrowed my brow. Interesting. Okay.
I still wasn’t sure what that would entail, but oddly enough, I was more concerned with what he’d want out of the chateau.
“I assume you’d want a small percentage of the chateau’s revenue once it starts paying out.”
“Naturally. Twenty-five percent is acceptable.”
“Twenty-five?” I laughed. “You’ve got to be joking.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. If he was trying to intimidate me, it wasn’t going to work.
“We both know that ten percent is standard,” I said.
“My standard is closer to twenty-five.”
“Perhaps, but you’re forgetting the fact that you’d be receiving an additional benefit from the deal. Ten.”
“Twenty,” he shot back.
“Twelve. Take it or leave it.”
He considered it a moment. “Okay.” He held out his hand, presumably to shake on it.