Chapter Fifty-One Max
Chapter Fifty-One
Max
It’s Monday morning and I step toward Lance’s kiosk. Gemma will have already swung past for her breakfast, so I know I’m not at risk of bumping into her here.
What I’m about to do has been brewing since our dinner last Thursday. The launch party is this Friday, so I’m aware my time to secure this opportunity is running out.
Lance crosses his arms, nodding at me. “I’ve already sold a latte and an apricot Danish this morning, son.”
I smirk. “Then make mine double strength.”
“Aye, anything else?” he asks, already reaching for a cup.
“Yes, actually,” I say, leaning in. “Have you ever considered moving your business to a new location?”
His eyes narrow to slits, his voice suspicious. “What do you want?”
“You have something my new hotel could use.”
His eyebrows sneak up to his hairline. “And what’s that?”
“I need a café space—something authentic, not another soulless corporate chain. I want guests walking into the lobby and feeling like they’ve found a local gem.
” I pause. “What if I offered you a prime spot in a new luxury Mayfair hotel? Full fit-out, guaranteed foot traffic, and year-round customers?”
Lance sets the cup down. “What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one. Just good business. You’d maintain full autonomy—vendors, menu, branding. All of it is yours. I have no interest in changing what you do. What you’ve built here is exactly what we’re missing.”
His expression softens, shifting to curiosity, so I continue.
“I need authenticity. You need visibility.”
“Aye.”
“I think we can help each other.”
He leans his elbows on the counter. “Tell me more.”