Page 89 of The Player + The Pact = I Do

He raises his eyebrows. I can’t tell if it’s skepticism on his face, but I look away so it doesn’t affect my presentation. “There aren’t many hotels with the infrastructure and capacity for large-scale rooftop events. The other X factor is weather. All outdoor event reservations need to be safeguarded with an indoor option in case of inclement weather, which means we’re reserving two spaces for the price of one.” I turn to the table I’ve set up beside me and swipe open the laptop. “Unless we have an option to cover the space. I’ve been researching. We could erect a fully retractable gazebo that covers like a permanent structure if it’s raining. I’ve checked with the manufacturer and it would work in all New York weather conditions, other than heavy snow. It makes the space useable for at least nine months of the year.”

I glance up at him to gauge his reaction. It’s difficult to get a read on him. He seems to be concentrating.

“Let me show you the renderings.” I’ve worked with an architect and designer on 3D renderings.

“I’ve had estimates from construction companies on the cost of renovations, the impact on the ongoing hotel operations, and timeframe. We can start to take bookings for two years out. Of course it won’t just be weddings, but we’re charging big money, so it will be big life events that we celebrate up here.”

He pulls in a breath and the sound makes my pulse flutter against my neck. I close my eyes in a long blink, trying not to think about his breath on my skin, his fingers in my hair, his mouth on mine.

“Let me take you through the rest of my strategy plans for the next three years.” We sit and I hand him a tabletwhere I’ve set out the rest of my presentation. I show him the cost savings I want to make and the investments crucial for keeping the hotel in the five-star bracket. It’s going to cost money before it makes money, but in three years, this hotel is going to be a jewel in this city’s crown.

“It’s all very well thought out,” he says eventually. He’s been borderline silent for the last forty minutes. I can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not.

He doesn’t need to say anything for me to be grateful he’s here, despite the fact that his presence is bringing up every emotion I’ve ever had, all at one time. Seeing him is… everything. And so painful it’s like slivers of glass slicing into my skin. How could I think I could just go back to Jersey and get on with the life I had before him? Having him so close satiates something in me. Him being here fills a hole in my heart.

With the comfort of his closeness comes the fear of his absence—the understanding that the more I have of Leo, the bigger the hole in my heart will be if he leaves. I can’t survive many more blows.

“Have you thought about permitting?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply, with as much authority as I can muster. “It’s all included in the two-year process. The actual construction shouldn’t take more than four months.”

Leo nods. “I want you to use one of my contractors.”

Is he saying yes?

“That’s fine,” I say.

“It’s a small job, but they’ll want to do it well and on time because it’s me.”

“Makes sense,” I reply.

He opens his jacket. I look away from the warm skin at the bottom of his throat where his tie might be, if he ever wore one. He pulls out some folded papers and slides themonto the table. “Take a look over these. If you’re happy, sign them and send them back to my assistant.”

I frown, picking up the papers. I wasn’t prepared for Leo to offer me an employment contract here and now, but I’m not going to say no, either. I look closer. When I confirm what I’m looking at, a smile lights me up from the inside out. It’s a five-year contract in my role as general manager of The Mayfair.

I feel my whole body exhale. At least I didn’t fuck that up.

“You’ve made some really good decisions about this place. You’re organized. Savvy. And I really like what you’ve done.”

I glance up at him, almost scared to look him in the eye in case he sees how much I miss him. “Thank you.”

“If we’re done,” he says, standing.

I get to my feet too. “And I meant to say, I’m really sorry about my dad not showing up for his meeting with you.”

Leo pulls his eyebrows together. “You never need to apologize to anyone about your father’s behavior. That’s on him.”

Easy to say. “But you were doingmea favor by seeing him. I wasted your time.”

“It could never be a waste of my time,” he mumbles, but I’m not quite sure what he means. “How are you? It must have been upsetting.”

“I’m fine. Kinda. It was sort of… north of upsetting. Honestly, I’m still upset. I’ve been trying to focus on work.”

“It’s not my place to suggest this, but have you thought about seeing a therapist?” he asks.

I take a step back at his question. “A therapist?”

“I’ve been thinking about going myself,” he says. “We all have things to work through.”

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