“I know the right place, sweetheart.” He brushed a lock of hair from my face. “Inside of you. That’s where I belong. How do I apply for that job?”
I smiled. “I’m pretty sure you already have that job, Mr. Lockwood. You’ve been inside of me for a long time. I was just too afraid to admit it.”
Weston looked deep into my eyes. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I love you, Soph. I’ll never let you down again.”
I smiled. “I love you too, you pain in my ass.”
Weston brushed his lips with mine.
My heart felt full, yet there was still something I needed to know. “What would your real bid have been?”
“For The Countess?”
I nodded.
“I valued the hotel at just under a hundred million. So my bid would have been two million for the minority share. Why?”
I grinned. “My bid was two point one. I would’ve won anyway.”
Weston chuckled. “Is that important to you?”
“Hell, yeah. I would’ve beaten you fair and square. Now I can lord it over you, rather than have you think you let me win.”
He smiled. “You’re going to lord it over me?”
“Just every chance I get.”
“You know, I’m in grovel mode now. Eventually it’ll irritate me if you rub that in my face. I don’t like to lose. But it’s fine. There’s no one in this world I’d rather fight with or make up with. I see a lot of fighting and fucking in our future.”
I rolled my eyes. “How romantic.”
“That’s me. Mr. Romantic. You’re one lucky girl.”
Epilogue
* * *
Weston - 18 months later
“Come in!”
My office door opened, and a face I hadn’t expected to see smiled at me.
Louis Canter glanced around the room. “Well, look at you roughing it.”
My office furniture consisted of a folding table, metal chair, and three milk crates I’d used as makeshift file cabinets. A lone light bulb hung overhead from a long, orange extension cord. Making my office presentable wasn’t high on my to-do list.
I got up and walked around my desk to greet him. Clasping hands, I teased, “What, are you slumming today? You know the only view of the park we get at this hotel is the one across the street where crack deals go down.”
He chuckled. “The construction in the lobby looks good. It reminds me a lot of the early days when I started at The Countess.”
“Somehow I don’t think Grace had to pay off bums to stop urinating in the entrance way.”
“Maybe not. But the energy feels the same. There’s a buzz when you walk in that front door—contractors trying to finish up the last of things, new employees running around to get everything in tip-top shape for when the first guests arrive. It feels like something special is about to happen.”
I smiled. I’d thought it was just me who felt it. Six weeks after the Sterling family had taken over at The Countess, I’d been on my way to visit Mr. Thorne when I noticed a For Sale sign in the window of a boarded-up hotel. The real estate agent happened to be inside, so I stopped in. While she talked on her cell phone, I looked around. The place had been a disaster of cobwebs and neglect. But the sign over what had once been the lobby’s reception desk caught my eye. Hotel Caroline. At that moment, I knew my life was about to change.
The building had been shuttered for five years. Later I’d come to find out the hotel had closed one week to the day after my sister passed away. I’d never been much of a believer in fate, but I liked to think my sister was looking down on me that day, giving me a sign that it was time to get my shit together and grow some balls. This wasn’t the best neighborhood right now, but it was up and coming—what I could afford—and I had faith in the area. More importantly, I had faith in myself. Finally.
One month after walking into Hotel Caroline, a day that happened to be my thirtieth birthday, I handed a check for almost five-million dollars over in exchange for the deed to a hot mess of a hotel. It was the first time I’d touched a dime of the trust fund my grandfather had created as my compensation for being a body of spare parts for my sister.
As a courtesy, that afternoon I’d called my grandfather and father to tell them I’d gone out on my own. Neither had really gotten over what I’d pulled with The Countess. But letting them know felt like the right thing to do.
Neither wished me luck. They also didn’t try to tell me I’d made a mistake. Honestly, they didn’t give two shits. Not to mention, neither remembered it was my birthday. Good riddance. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.
Later that night, I went to see Sophia and celebrated being free exactly the way I’d wanted to—a good fight with my girl. She’d been a little upset that I hadn’t mentioned any of my plans to her until after it was too late. I’d bought a rundown hotel and basically excommunicated myself from my family without saying a word.
To this day, I’m not sure exactly why I did that. Maybe I was afraid she would try to talk me out of it, or maybe it was just something I needed to do on my own. Either way, she wasn’t happy about being kept in the dark. Though she’d forgiven me by the time I gave her three orgasms and untied her.
“So what brings you down here, Louis?” I asked. “Everything still set for tonight at The Countess?”
“Everything is perfect. The maintenance crew started putting things together the minute Sophia left for the airport yesterday. It’ll be all set up by the time you arrive tonight.”
“Great. Thank you.”
Louis had a small, brown paper bag in his hand. He extended it to me. “Thought you might like this. I found it in one of the boxes we pulled from storage.”
My brows drew together. “What is it?”
“A Christmas gift I gave Grace in 1961. I’d forgotten all about it. But take a look. I thought it might be pretty damn fitting for the occasion tonight.”
Inside the paper bag, a glass ornament was wrapped in old newspapers. At first, I didn’t get the significance, but when I turned it around and saw what was painted on the other side, I looked up. “Holy shit.”
Louis smiled. “Life’s a giant circle, isn’t it? Sometimes we think we’ve reached the end and closed the loop, only to realize we’ve arrived back at the beginning again. Good luck tonight, son.”
***
Sophia
I watched from the airport escalator with a smile as Weston scanned the crowd, looking for me. Even if he hadn’t been the tallest person in most rooms, he’d stick out above the rest. There was something so magnetic about him. Sure, he was tall, dark, and handsome—that went without saying. But that wasn’t what set him apart. It was the way he carried himself—feet planted wide, chin held high, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that matched the cocky grin that always seemed to threaten at the corners of his lips. He stood in baggage claim, holding a bunch of flowers, and I was certain the hearts of a few women in the vicinity were going pitter-patter at the scene.
Halfway down, he spotted me, and his ever-threatening grin burst into a full smile. We’d been together more than a year and a half now, and it was almost a year since we’d taken the leap and moved in together, yet his sexy smile could still melt my panties. He strode through the arrival area toward the escalator, his eyes never leaving mine.