My body is taut with nerves as I walk into the acquisition meeting I’ve spent weeks preparing for, only to find Zane acting chummy with Jonathan Cavalier, the current owner of the inn we’re both trying to acquire.
Both men look up when I enter, and the soft smile Zane throws my way only makes me feel more discouraged. I see it in their body language — I lost this deal before I even had a chance to pitch my proposal, simply because he’s a Windsor.
Deep-rooted resentment unfurls in the pit of my stomach, despite my best attempts to contain it. Why is it this specific deal he’s interested in? The Bellevue isn’t big enough to be on his radar, and surely there are higher ROI projects available to him?
“Celeste,” Zane says, rising to his feet. He walks around the conference table and pulls a chair out for me. I raise a brow, and his smile turns roguish, challenging. With his back turned to Jonathan, he’s showing me his true colors. Zane’s eyes slowly roam over my body, and I narrow mine, refusing to play this game. Instead, I force a fake polite smile for him before extending my hand toward Jonathan, whose attention is still entirely on Zane’s back. How am I supposed to compete with the awe in the man’s eyes?
“Ms. Harrison,” he says, his tone friendly. “I’ve heard such great things about you from Mr. Windsor here. It looks like my hotel will be in good hands regardless of who I choose today.”
“It absolutely will be,” I agree, my words ringing true. I might not like Zane, but he’s an excellent, yet fair, businessman. Unlike other big firms, he’s never acquired a hotel only to destroy its history and replace it with something modern. It’s why competing with him is even harder now than it ever was before — I might hate him as a person, but I respect him as a hotelier.
“Why don’t we start with Mr. Windsor,” Jonathan says as he retakes his seat, and I only just hide my surprise. He must have shot down everyone else’s pitch already, leaving only the two of us. Jonathan is a somewhat eccentric man, and he insisted on one collaborative meeting with his finalists instead of separate ones. It’s unconventional, but I understand why he prefers it this way. Sharing ideas in this manner will ultimately benefit his vision.
Zane moves to stand in front of the projector screen, his expression as serious as it always was right before we walked into any test at school. I never would’ve admitted it to myself back then, but whenever he looked like that, my heart would skip a beat. It still does. There’s something about watching the jokester melt away, leaving only the real him standing in front of me.
“This hotel’s rich history is its most valuable asset, and it’s one I would protect at all costs,” he says, and I lean in, curious to hear his plans. He displays his next slide — an image of the hotel as it could be, when fully restored to its former Victorian glory. It’s exactly how I envisioned it too, and my heart sinks. We have the same ideas, but he has a far higher budget to make it a reality.
Annoyance washes over me, and I clench my jaw as I sit back, watching him present a proposal I can’t compete with. Zane adjusts his tie in between slides, and my eyes roam down his body. The navy three-piece suit highlights his wide frame, and for one sinful moment, I’m reminded of the way he felt against me when we danced together.
My cheeks heat, and I tear my gaze away, memories of the two of us filling my mind. The way he kissed me when we were eighteen, my bottom lip between his teeth… the way he parted my legs and licked his lips, desperate for a taste. Somehow, I suspect that night would pale in comparison to being with him now. I hate the man, but he knows how to put that body of his to use.
Zane’s eyes catch mine, and he holds me captive with his intensity. “I’d treat her with the love and honor she deserves,” he concludes his presentation. “This must remain a boutique hotel, a place where love is celebrated and precious memories are made. The vision you’ve had for it is one I’d uphold.”
Jonathan looks visibly emotional, and I can’t blame him. Zane oozes sincerity and integrity — it’s what he’s known for. I’m the only one that’s never been extended to, the only one who sees what’s beneath that respectable exterior. My gaze drops to the nail polish I put on last night, a bright orange shade called No Stopping Me Now, and I take a deep breath, letting it fortify and encourage me as I rise to my feet.
I could argue that a hotel like the Bellevue would never truly be safe in the hands of a big corporation, but that simply isn’t true when it comes to Zane Windsor, and in all fairness, we’re not that much smaller than they are. I’m tempted, but I won’t stoop to lies. If I win this proposal, I’ll do it fair and square.
So instead of switching gears, I give the presentation I prepared. The one that’s filled with all the details I know he was hoping to see in Zane’s proposal — the specific restorations I have in mind, the marketing plan, the essential renovations. I see it in his eyes — if Zane hadn’t been here, I’d have won him over.
If only I could compete with a Windsor budget. He’ll make an offer so high that Jonathan won’t be able to say no, especially after seeing that he has no plans to destroy his life’s work. Zane can get away with only making a small amount of profit, but I can’t. I won’t be able to offer what he can.
My stomach tightens as I wrap up my presentation, and Jonathan thanks both of us. I can already hear my grandfather’s scathing words. I knew competing with Zane would be hard, but I underestimated how much it would hurt, how helpless I’d feel.
“I’ll be in touch on Monday,” Jonathan promises us, but his eyes are glued to Zane.
I’m on autopilot as I shake Jonathan’s hand and thank him for his time, my heart heavy. Weeks. I spent weeks on this proposal, refusing to give up when Grandpa told me there was no point even making an offer if Zane had his sights on this hotel. I should’ve known better. I’ve grown so much in the years I was away, but right here, right now, I feel like the same teenager that grew up in Zane’s shadow.
My smile slips the moment the meeting room door falls closed behind me, and I draw a shaky breath. Perhaps this is the reminder I needed. We aren’t at school anymore, where the playing field was a bit more even. Attempting to acquire projects Zane is interested in means setting myself up for failure. I should’ve switched gears the second I learned he wanted to make an offer, instead of wasting so much precious time.
The door opens behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see Zane follow me out, his gaze surprisingly concerned.
“Celeste.”
His tone makes something dark and needy ricochet over me, and I increase my pace as I rush toward the elevator, hoping to escape him and knowing I’ll fail.
