Page 77 of Paradise in Progress
Mr. Nelson observes like he’s cataloguing each new detail, his critical gaze scanning every inch of the renovation. Soft murmurs from the others can be heard behind me, but their opinions don’t matter, only Mr. Nelson’s. His silence makes my heart race as I wait for his reaction.
Everything is riding on this moment. My design. My vision for the resort. My future in this company. He’s the owner of this development, and what he says next will either validate everything or…destroy it. No matter if Tristan, Xander, and Victoria all love the property.
Xander breaks the silence first by throwing me a lifeline. “The lobby flows well with the island theme. I love the modernization with the soft beiges rather than the darker browns.”
“It feels more natural,” I explain, defending my vision. Xander smiles and gives me a small, approving nod as he mouths,breathe. I do as he says and take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. When Mr. Nelson doesn’t say anything, the room falls into an awkward silence.
My chest tightens, and I search for Tristan for support. He’s standing stiffly, with his hands in his pockets, an unreadable expressionplastered on his face. I notice he’s standing a little farther away from me than I would like. But I’m not the kind of girl who needs a man at her side. No, I’m Kennedy Reed. I’m confident, hardworking, and can stand up for myself.
Mr. Nelson lets out a heavy breath as he turns his attention back to the group. “What’s the status of the villas?”
Steeling my shoulders, I find his gaze. “We are still three to four weeks out. However, the exterior construction is complete and only the interior finishes need to be finished.”
“I see.”
“The interior construction shouldn’t hinder the guests' experiences,” I add.
Mr. Nelson crosses his arms as he watches me intently. “I would hope not. We don’t need any complaints about noise, not on top of everything else.”
Tristan starts to interject, but I beat him to it. I refuse to let him talk over me, as if I can’t handle the scrutiny from his father. “We’ve installed sound barriers for the construction zones, and we’ve worked with the crews to ensure that working hours won’t be during peak guest hours. Each room will also receive a complimentary basket with ear plugs, champagne, and a few other local specialties.”
Mr. Nelson huffs in response as he mills over my words.
“We’re working around the clock, and like Kennedy said, we’ve thought it through, and the guests won’t experience anything negative that we can’t combat with a solution.”
“A lot is riding on this opening,” Mr. Nelson says as his eyes meet mine. “Thank you for your hard work. The jet will be departing in two hours to take you back to New York.”
My stomach drops to my feet. “Wait, what? I’m leaving?”
You could hear a pin drop. Mr. Nelson turns his attention from me to Tristan. “Your work here is done, Miss Reed. We’ll handle the rest here.”
I blink, feeling completely blindsided as nausea rolls through me. How can I be dismissed so easily? The amount of press that will be here and I won’t be featured at all. I designed this renovation, I’ve seen it through from sketches to reality, and now I’m being told I won’t even be there to witness the benefits of all that hard work.
A burning sensation fills my eyes, but I refuse to show weakness. I shift my weight, glancing at Tristan, searching for some sign that he’s as frustrated as I am. But all I get is that distance again. Thatwall.
And that’s when the sinking feeling intensifies.
He knew.
It all makes sense now.
My mind flashes back to the last twenty-four hours. Last night’s perfect date. How he worshiped my body. The gentle way we woke up this morning. To fucking me one last time in the shower. And then the distance he was showing me afterward. I knew there was something wrong with him, and it wasn’t all in my head.
It was all his way of saying goodbye. He refused to be a good person and give me the heads-up.
My heart clenches as pain erupts throughout my body, taking my breath away. I feel my heart break in half, and it has me wanting to physically curl in on myself. But I won’t. He won’t get that satisfaction.
“I guess that’s it, then.”
“Yes,” Mr. Nelson says. “A car will take you to the airport.”
He turns to Tristan, focusing his attention on him and not me, the person who just had the rug ripped from underneath her. His deep timbered voice demands, “Show me the rest of the resort.”
As some of the executives start to follow Mr. Nelson, I look up at a stoic-faced Tristan.
“We’re done,” I say sharply before spinning on my heel, not allowing him a chance to say anything back. Today, I’m having the last word. I storm off to the penthouse to gather my things as anger takes the place of my broken heart.
Chapter thirty-two
