32. Sebastian
THIRTY-TWO
SEBASTIAN
The lights lowered and the live band resumed their set once Charlie and I stepped off the stage. All eight councilmembers seemed to flock to one another after our presentation, then they quickly departed the party to deliberate. We’d done all we could. Now we’d have to wait.
“How long do you think it will take for them to decide?” I asked.
Charlie chewed on her freshly manicured nails, darting her gaze around the gala. “I’m not sure. There’s a chance it might not be tonight. If it’s a draw, the mayor will be the deciding vote. I think he’s on board with our idea, but you just never know.”
Chandelier lights shimmered off Charlie’s bare-skinned shoulders. She was absolutely stunning in her strapless emerald gown, and my hands ached to touch her skin. But I willed myself to hold back. In the days that had passed, I’d racked my brain to come up with a way to keep her and The Bach Company. Everything was riding on the approval from the council, and I didn’t want even a whiff of scandal to influence them.
Once I had the approval, I could approach Sinclair.
Because there was one thing Charlie cared about just a little bit more than the Monticello, and that was Radcliffe House. If I could just find a way to get Sinclair to agree to buy into the boutique hotel plan for the Monticello without buying Radcliffe House as a package deal, I had a chance. A slim hope of finding a way to tell Charlie the truth about why I was here.
Watching her anxious expression was like a punch in the gut. Wanting to wipe that worry from her brow, I offered her my hand. “Care to join me for a dance?”
“I’d be delighted, Mr. Anderson,” she said with a smile, placing her hand softly in mine. I grasped her fingers and resisted the urge to bring her knuckles to my lips. Her blue eyes flicked to mine like she could read my thoughts, the start of a smile teasing the corners of her lips. God, she was gorgeous. I never knew I could enjoy looking at a woman as much as I did Charlie—and still find new things to love about her.
We waltzed onto the dance floor with a dozen others. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I pulled her in as close as was appropriate. Then I pulled her a tiny bit closer.
Her gaze fluttered to the ceiling then back at me. “I’ve never seen this place look so beautiful before. So romantic. And to think this never would’ve happened had you not been so stubborn at that meeting with the mayor.”
“I’m the stubborn one in the relationship?” I said, not catching myself before I could say the “R” word. Her flushed face told me she was surprised by its use too, but a hopeful light sparkled in her eyes. For the past month we’d been nemesis neighbors, reconstruction collaborators, and lusty lovers. We’d shared jokes and peach soda water and pieces of our past. This was a relationship. I wanted it—wanted her. And as soon as we knew the results of the vote, I’d find Sinclair and make sure he’d buy the new terms of the deal I was about to propose. He had to. It was the only way I could do right by Charlie and by my mother.
It would work. It had to work.
Charlie’s dress fluttered around my legs as we spun, delicate music dancing in the air. We were in a dream. Time stood still. All that existed was Charlie’s smile, the thump of my heart, and the absolute certainty that I would find a way to make this work.
Then the mayor cut to us and interrupted our sway with a tap on my shoulder. “The council has a vote,” he said with little inflection in his voice, and my stomach clenched.
“Already?” Charlie asked. The time had come—sooner than expected. My gut churned. So much was riding on this. So much more than Charlie—or the mayor, or anyone—knew.
“Yes, they want to meet with both of you now in the Monticello offices.”
We closely and quickly followed Mayor Greene to the theater’s back office, hidden away from the gala. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. The eight members of the city council stood shoulder to shoulder with no expression on their faces. They just stared at us without a word. Tension locked my muscles as I stared back, the seconds dragging onward like an anchor kicking up sand at the bottom of the sea.
“So?” I asked, impatient. “What’s the verdict?”
“That was quite a pitch. None of us were expecting you two to come together.” Councilwoman Sheffield stepped forward. “The vote was unanimous.” She paused, gaze flicking between Charlie and me. Then her mouth split into a wide smile. “We’ve decided to approve your proposal. Congratulations!”
The councilmembers applauded with big smiles on their faces, and relief washed over me. A theater-sized weight lifted from my shoulders, and now I had a chance. A chance to make this right, to ensure that the woman I loved got everything she wanted. Glancing at her, I watched as blissful satisfaction swept over Charlie’s face. We gazed at one another in the wake of the good news for a beat. Or two.
Then her arms flew up, and I grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around. She squealed and giggled, face buried in the crook of my neck. We couldn’t care less who witnessed our shared joy.
“We did it. We actually did it,” she said.
“I knew we would.”
After a series of handshakes from the councilmembers, Mayor Greene stepped forward, looking at Charlie. “You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked, and she waited. “It means your job is safe. We’ve set the town up on a new path. Good work, Charlie. Sebastian.”
Well, how about that? As New Elwood’s heritage preservation officer, she’d live to save another piece of history. She’d kept her job, saved the Monticello, and stolen my heart in the process.
Now it was my turn to do what I did best and negotiate my ass off so she could keep her home—and I could restore my mother’s rightful inheritance, with interest.
Music flooded the hallways as we walked back to the gala grinning from ear to ear. “We have to celebrate,” Charlie said.
“How about I grab us some champagne, and I’ll meet you in our theater…” My gaze flicked up the steps.
She bit her glossy red lip. “Now that’s my kind of celebration. I just need to run to the ladies, and I’ll meet you there.” Her brows suggestively danced on her forehead before she walked off, a smile lingering on her lips.
Over at the bar, I leaned my elbows on the polished metal surface and recognized a not-so-friendly face from my wine-drenched visit to Sullivan’s. The blond woman in the red skirt. Today she wore a white gown, with her hair curled in big waves falling halfway down her back. Her eyes narrowed and she took a long sip of her chilled white wine.
Seeing as we’d just gotten approval for the new Monticello hotel, I was in a good and playful mood. So I raised my hands in surrender. “Watch out, folks, she’s got wine.”
A corner of her mouth turned up for a millisecond. Tough crowd. “Don’t worry, your tux is safe. For now, anyway.”
“Glad to know I can save on my dry cleaning bill,” I said, offering her a handshake. “I’m Sebastian Anderson.”
“Abigail. Nice presentation.”
“Thanks. You a friend of Charlie’s?” I asked, recognizing her name from conversations with Charlie.
“Her best.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m grabbing us some drinks to celebrate,” I told her, unable to keep the news to myself. And, fine, maybe I wanted to make nice with Charlie’s friend.
“Celebrate?” Her brows shot up.
I nodded. “Charlie’s very happy tonight.”
“Wow!” The first real smile I’d ever seen on Abigail’s face split her mouth, and she reached over to punch my arm. When I jerked back and rubbed the sore spot, she just laughed and lifted her glass in my direction. “I’d better go find her and congratulate her.” Abigail quickly ran off without a goodbye. It was sweet to see her friend share in her excitement.
I turned toward the black-tie bartender and ordered two glasses of champagne. The man with the sparkling booze nodded and twirled a champagne glass with his fingers. I took the two freshly filled champagne flutes and turned on my heel, nearly crashing into the man I wasn’t ready to face. Theo Sinclair. Only he didn’t look as calm and collected as he had the last time we met. His nose was red and his eyes flashed.
“What the hell, Anderson?” he barked in a low tone. “A boutique hotel built on this tired piece of crap? That was not my hotel proposal.”
Not my preferred battleground, but I supposed there was no time like the present.
I squared my shoulders. “I know. It was better. You should be thanking me. Thanking Charlie Reeves.”
Theo bared his teeth like he was ready to bite my head clean off. “That wasn’t our deal.”
“Our deal was dead in the water, Sinclair,” I said, dipping my head to the side. We made our way beside one of the sweeping staircases for an attempt at privacy. I scanned over his shoulder and, not seeing Charlie, returned my gaze to Sinclair. “I probed the council and campaigned hard, but they weren’t going to approve the big hotel. This is better. More premium.”
“More premium, maybe, but a quarter of the rooms means a worse investment for me. Not to mention ballooning restoration costs.” His jaw set. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Look, I know you’re a businessman, but I’m the best in the real estate business. What I’m offering you is pure luxury, Sinclair. Luxury means a premium price. I know profitable commercial real estate when I see it. This version of the hotel is going to offer your vineyard visitors a taste of small-town charm with big-city comfort. It’s what the people want.”
“You mean that’s what your girlfriend wants,” Sinclair said through clenched teeth, and I straightened. Sinclair sneered. “Don’t play dumb. I could see it the moment you walked in together. You’re sleeping with her.”
I didn’t like where this conversation was going. I didn’t want to bring Charlie into this even though she was the entire reason I was having this conversation. “That isn’t any of your business.”
“You made it my business when you screwed with my hotel.”
Oh, that was rich. Seemed Mr. Sinclair had forgotten who owned this building. I leaned closer, champagne sloshing over the edge of one of the glasses and wetting my fingers. “Let’s not forget that it’s because of me that you’re even getting your hotel,” I hissed. “A better hotel. You may not see it now, but trust me, soon enough you’ll have those lifestyle influencers singing its praises on social media while those profits start rolling in.”
Sinclair scoffed, averting his glare. “You better hope so.”
Like a shark scenting a drop of blood in the water, I knew I had him. He was interested. No, more than interested, he was invested. “I’ll send you some updated figures. You’ll see that this new version of the hotel is a better deal than you could have ever imagined.”
When his gaze met mine again, his eyes gleamed with avarice. “I don’t like you pulling this one over on me,” he said.
I shrugged. “We had to keep it under wraps until the presentation.”
“My lawyers will go through your updated contract of sale with a fine-toothed comb. If you’re trying to rip me off here, the deal’s dead.”
I leaned back on my heels, affecting a casual shrug. Inside, my heart thumped, pulse heavy in my throat, a knot in my gut. Here came the hard part. I didn’t want to do this here, but there was only one way I could get the funding for The Bach Company so I could give my mother her due and make sure Charlie forgave me for selling the Monticello to Sinclair.
I took a sip of champagne and met the other man’s gaze. “I’m so confident you’ll want this new version of the hotel that I’ll skip ahead to the next part.”
“What next part?”
“I’m taking Radcliffe House Apartments off the table.” The words came out steady, even though my body rioted. Everything rested on this moment. Everything.
And Sinclair was having none of it. His eyes bulged, his skin turning a dark shade of puce. “Are you out of your damn mind?”
I gave him a cool stare. “The new Monticello is worth a lot more than what we’d discussed. I’d basically be paying you for Radcliffe House if we keep it part of the deal. It’s off the table.”
Sinclair’s rage snapped against my skin like static. I held his gaze. I needed Radcliffe House, and I needed the money from the sale of the Monticello. And Sinclair needed another foothold in this town, and I knew this theater would be a jewel in his crown. I was just betting that he wanted it more than his fancy vineyard mansion. It was a bet I was desperate to win, for both the women in my life.
Sinclair sucked in a breath as if he were counting to ten in his head. After a moment, he regained a semblance of composure and met my gaze. “You know what? I’m sick of playing this game with you. I’m out.”
It took every micro-muscle in my body not to let my jaw drop. “What?”
His eyes were sharp as they read my reaction, and I worried that I’d given myself away when Sinclair began to smile. “You sell me everything we agreed on, including that shitty shack and its land, or there’s no deal.” There was a ferocity in his voice.
A hard, dry lump formed in my throat. I swallowed it back, and it plunked into the pit of my stomach. No deal meant my mother wouldn’t get what she deserved. It meant Lydia won, even from beyond the grave.
But it also meant I had Radcliffe House. An old wreck of a building that Charlie loved more than life itself.
The woman I’d fallen for in a month, or the family I owed my life to. A budding new relationship that might fall apart at any moment, or righting a wrong from three decades ago.
Grief and rage and fear blazed through me. I thought this risk was worth it, thought I could maneuver Sinclair where I wanted him. But he wasn’t taking the bait, and everything I’d worked for was slipping through my fingers.
Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I could make it work. Was I really ready to give everything up for a woman I barely knew? What if Charlie turned around and decided she’d had enough of me? After all, she’d been pretty clear about disliking me for most of our acquaintance. What if I gave up my shot at The Bach Company for a temporary fantasy?
I’d own the right to renovate this old building, but I wouldn’t have the funds to do it. I’d have to call Hamilton Bach and tell him I couldn’t buy his company. I’d have to tell my mother that I wasn’t able to fix what my grandmother had broken.
The memory of thick, black smoke clogged my nose, irritated my eyes as I stood before Theo Sinclair. Had I just made the biggest mistake of my life?
He read something in my expression. Something I never wanted him to see. And he gave me a horrible, triumphant smile. “You either sell me the house and the hotel, or I walk away, Anderson. Your choice. But we both know this is your best option.”
With one condescending pat on the shoulder, he brushed past me to the exit. I stared after him, hollow as a drum, wondering what the hell I’d just done—and what the hell I should do.
No matter how much guilt and shame and anger churned in my stomach, the answer was the same as it had been for thirty years.
I couldn’t give up thirty years of duty to my mother, to my parents, in exchange for a woman I’d met a month ago. How could I even call this love? How could I possibly know ?
Sinclair was right. There was really only one possible option.