CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ellery
The sky is painted in colors, pinks and oranges and every color in between.
I’ve waited almost five whole weeks from signing on the dotted line to standing here with the sunset as my backdrop, the crash of the waves as the soundtrack, while I dig my toes in the sand and stare in awe at what is now mine.
Technically, ours, but that’s just semantics.
I’ve felt pride before. I’ve felt ownership. I’ve known fear. But I’ve never known how potent a combination of the three could feel as I stare at what was formerly called the White Sands Inn.
It’s D-Day. Or technically, tomorrow is, so I’m going to soak up the silence and solitude of being here all by myself before the chaos ensues. We have an army of contractors ready to take this place by storm.
The sand is cool beneath my bare feet as I imagine our renditions coming to life.
The seaside café we’re adding on to the left will offer cuisine from a renowned chef that Ford’s people are currently in talks with.
The balcony to the right, which was an empty conference room, will be converted into a lounge.
And then the rooms in between will become suites with top-of-the-line amenities.
Pipe dreams.
Isn’t that what Chandler said to me last night after all the pomp and circumstance of his big night died down, and we were left with that awkward silence that only proved we would never have worked?
“He’s only partnering with you because you won the bid.”
My eyes whip up to Chandler’s. “Ford?”
He nods. “Who did you think I was talking about? Think about it. Why would a man of his stature buy a little-known nothing on a beach with someone he barely knows?”
Because we have the same vision. Because we both need this reprieve from our day-to-day. Because we want something of our own.
“I’m thinking that was meant as an insult. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Chan.”
“I’m not jealous. Not in the least. But don’t be surprised if you get there and he pushes you aside and steamrolls you right out of the picture. The Sharpes don’t take a back seat to anyone.”
“God forbid a man thinks I’m competent, capable, and worthy of a partnership.”
“You are. That’s why this whole thing hits me weird.”
There is no use arguing with him, so I simply smile and nod. “You’re on the outside, though.”
“When it all goes to shit, just remember I warned you.”
“Good. Great. Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Sarcasm drips from my voice.
“Look, Elle. I get your need to fulfill this pipe dream of yours. Maybe it’ll work. Maybe Sharpe won’t railroad you and take over. And if he doesn’t and you accomplish your goal, maybe you’ll be satisfied and be ready to settle down. Be ready to marry me.”
It is the first time I’ve ever looked at Chandler Holcomb and not liked him. Hence why the engagement ring he refused to take back is tucked away in my Tribeca apartment, safe until this project is completed.
How weird is it to have one man essentially mock me and the other unconditionally support me? Ford barely knows me and he believes in me while Chandler, regardless of how much of a good guy he is, clearly thinks I’m in need of a hobby to knock some sense into me.
The weird thing though is I honestly don’t care what Chandler thinks anymore. I’m so over and done with men who think less of me because I want more for myself.
And I was going to marry him. Jesus Christ. If I thought being the coffee girl at Haywood was bad, I can only imagine what being married to someone who expects the same at home would be like.
No fucking thank you.
I should be angry.
I should be disgusted.
What I really feel is relief. Pure, unadulterated relief that I escaped this fate I had willingly subjected myself to.
Chandler the misogynist in disguise who I’m grateful to be rid of.
And Ford . . . whew. Ford, the man who knows how to get to a woman without even trying. He’s been in my dreams in ways that are definitely not safe for work. He’s constantly on my mind because of the project and the many things I need to tell him or want to discuss with him.
And now we’re going to be living under the same roof. In close quarters. Day after deliciously torturous day.
There is definitely chemistry there. Hell, it was there that first night we met. But we’re partners. It’s never a good idea to sleep with your equal. Because you mix things like feelings and emotions and that makes things not so equal anymore.
But then again, it’s me we’re talking about. The woman who only does the physical. Who only likes lust and refuses anything remotely close to love.
Emotions are irrelevant. Always.
Concentrate, Elle. On the project. On making this work.
And so, I do. I leave the sand behind for the worn brick of the inn’s back patio. The terrace and balconies will offer incredible views when they’re modernized.
When I enter the hotel through the back door, the stillness hits me again, just as it did when I was handed the keys an hour ago and everyone left.
I found solace in the silence then and now. What I didn’t expect is the sudden eeriness I feel in being the only person in an otherwise empty hotel. Not creepy as in The Shining, but rather desolate with every creak of its structure compounding the next.
Maybe that’s why I turn on every light as I walk through the old building. Perhaps that’s why I put my earbuds in and crank up the music as I tread over worn floors with an extra bounce in my step to the beat. What I can’t hear, I can’t be freaked out by.
I run my fingers up the dated oak banister that will soon be replaced with a more modern cable railing, and wonder what laughter and secrets have been shared in these hallways. And what new ones will happen when we’re done?
I make notes on a pad of paper and add things to my checklist that I need to address with either Ford or the contractors.
Things we possibly need to alter or things we didn’t know needed to be addressed since it’s hard to figure out a remodel when you haven’t been given complete access to the property.
Headlights light up the road outside. Some pull into the parking lot and turn around to go back the way they came, and I wonder how we’ll make this the private haven for the elite when there’s a public access road outside.
Another question to add to my list.
And call me crazy, but each item added makes me happy. I relish the excitement of this new venture.
You’ve got this, Sinclair.