Page 18 of The Exception

“And yes, I’m young. But that doesn’t mean you should discount my opinion. If anything, I represent the next generation of guests.” She sat back, crossing her legs and revealing more of that delicious, creamy skin. I no longer had to wonder if it was as smooth as it looked; I knew.

She made a good point, but I wasn’t ready to concede. “Your generation is so damn entitled.”

Why did I get off on arguing with her? Most people vexed me, but she… I swallowed hard. Liliana had always intrigued me.

She scoffed. “Interesting choice of words coming from a man who inherited generational wealth and has opportunities because of that and the fact that he’s a white, cis-het man.”

“Says the white, cis-het woman who owns a château.”

Our eyes locked, and the tension pulled taut between us. It felt as if it were a rubber band ready to snap. Or maybe I was just ready to snap. First, the shit that Donahue had pulled with the board, Moretti’s proposed “merger,” the negative article, and now this?

She inched closer, full of fury and fire. “Fair point. But before I purchased the château, I worked my ass off, first as your assistant, and then later to build my blog. Not to mention everything I’ve done to restore the château. And I’m not going to stand here and let you undermine my hard work and success.” Her eyes blazed with indignation. “I might not have the experience or education you do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have something valuable to contribute.”

Damn.That was… Seeing her claim ownership and take pride in her work reminded me of how I felt about the Huxley Grand. And I hated that I was making her feel like I was attacking her work, just like the board was attacking me.

It prompted me to say, “You’re right. I wasn’t trying to undermine your hard work.”

Her shoulders dropped, some of the fight going out of her. “Thank you for saying that.” She blew out a breath. “It’s not like I need someone to undermine my work when I’m sabotaging all my efforts anyway.”

I frowned. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

“My phone.” She massaged her temples. “It had all my photos and a list of content ideas and…” She glanced toward her purse, which was resting on a towel on the table, the contents laid out on top. “Maybe I could put it in some rice? Isn’t that supposed to be a thing?”

“I’ll have my staff bring some up.” I texted my kitchen staff, wishing I’d thought of it sooner, but I’d been a little distracted. “Didn’t you back up your photos? Save them to the cloud?”

She shook her head, her eyes watery.Fuck. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.

“I was having issues with my service, and then I was so busy that I didn’t get the chance to check if any of them uploaded after my arrival.” She stood. “I should…” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I should go. I have to—” She glanced around as if searching for something. Her movements were frantic, and I hated seeing her so unsettled.

I could understand that she was upset. Stressed. But this seemed beyond that. She’d handled numerous stressful situations while in my employ, and she’d never reacted like this.

I made a note to look into the service issues. I wanted my guests to feel like they could escape, but excellent Wi-Fi was a given at our hotels.

“Liliana.” I grasped her wrist. “Stop. Wait here.”

I went into the bathroom and returned with a box of tissues before handing her one.

“Thank you.” She sniffled. “God, this is so embarrassing,” she murmured. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” I asked, all thoughts of boundaries and propriety taking a back seat in the face of her distress. She had a problem, and I wanted to fix it.

“I—” Liliana’s eyes darted about the room, never coming to rest. She hiccupped around a sob. “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” I lifted my arm, tempted to wrap it around her shoulder. To console her. The feeling was both foreign and natural.

I didn’t comfort anyone except maybe my family or my dogs. And yet, I found myself wanting to do something to help Liliana.

I settled for placing my hand on hers. She startled, then relaxed. She peered up at me with tears in her eyes and racing down her cheeks, and she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Her eyes were so blue. Blue like the navy of the Huxley brand logo. A warm, rich color that spoke of depth and intelligence. They were rimmed with dark black lashes, and I couldn’t have looked away even if I’d wanted to.

I sat with her, wheels turning, chest aching at the sight of her distress.

“Tell me,” I commanded, impatient to find a solution.

I kicked myself for being so brusque in my approach. Demanding, even. But putting people at ease had always been more Jasper’s forte.

“Come on,” I said more softly. “You can trust me.” I lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to mine. Wanting her to hear the truth of my words and believe them.

She blinked back tears and peered up at me. Her expression gave the impression that she was seeing me for the first time. I reluctantly dropped my hand from her chin, feeling exposed.

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