“No word of a lie, Theodore, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Theo kept his hands out of sight beneath the conference room table, turning his pen over and over between his fingers. His father’s words hung in the air, mingling with the scent of coffee and the beeswax polish the cleaners used on the mahogany table. “I told you I’d get it done.”
“So you did.” His father gave a gravelly, smoker’s chuckle. “But closing the sale while the old bird’s in hospital? You’re giving Daly a run for his money, Theo. Not that I’m complaining. I admire your hutzpah.”
His heart gave a low, painful thud at the memory of Luca’s hurt and he kept his eyes on the table, twisted the pen between his fingers so hard he could hear the plastic squeak. “It wasn’t hutzpah,” he said. “Jude wants to sell, and she wants to sell fast. She’ll vacate the property by the start of September. We can move on to phase two of the project.”
Demolition. He tensed at the idea of the bulldozers moving in, destroying Luca’s past and his future. Back in the sterile emptiness of his apartment last night, the thought had kept him awake for hours. Knowing that Luca would blame him for it—would hate him for it—only made the prospect more unbearable.
“The project’s yours, Theo.” His father intruded into his miserable wallowing, cigar-stained fingers tapping on the table. “Make it happen.”
Two weeks ago, those words would have thrilled like victory. Today, they turned him cold. The next step would be to arrange for the hotel to be cleared, fenced off and torn down. Then the site would be levelled—he ached for the demise of the beautiful, rambling old garden—and surveyed ahead of construction.
His chest tightened. It felt like hot panic.
“Theodore.” His father stared at him through narrowed eyes. “I said, make it happen.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again, the words of compliance refusing to come. “What if,” he blurted instead, “we restored the Majestic and ran her as an exclusive boutique hotel?”
His father steepled his fingers, staring at him. “We’ve been through this before. There’s no profit in it.”
“You mean, there’s not enough profit in it.”
“Not enough to take to the board, no.” His father’s eyes narrowed into the scalpel-like gaze Theo dreaded. “Tell me this ain’t about Moretti.”
Theo blanched and didn’t answer directly, he didn’t dare. “I’ve done some prelim costings,” he said, “and we could turn a profit in a couple of years. It would be a much better fit with the town—”
“But not with our portfolio. Lux doesn’t operate bloody boutique hotels, Theodore.”
“We could diversify.”
“Why?” He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against his pursed lips. “Because you’ve screwed some bloke in New Milton and don’t want to hurt his feelings? For fuck’s sake, Theodore, what’s next? You shag a clown and we open a bloody circus?”
“I just think—”
“No.” His father slapped his hands flat on the table. “You don’t bloody think. That’s the problem. You’re away with the fairies half the time—and I don’t mean the rainbow variety—and you don’t think. Profit, Theodore. That’s the bottom line. That’s what keeps the business afloat and all these people in work.” He puffed out a breath, sinking back grumpily into his chair. “And you wonder why you’re not a partner yet. Now get the fuck on with it. I won’t listen to more of this crap. You understand?”
Jaw clenched, Theo nodded and rose to his feet. He was surprised his cheeks weren’t burning, but the scalding sense of shame his father wielded so effectively was absent. Instead, he felt a deep and profound certainty that his father was wrong. His father was wrong. But what the hell Theo was supposed to do about it, he didn’t know. Eddie Wishart was judge and jury when it came to Lux Properties, and Theo knew he’d get no quarter from the board. All they cared about were their dividends. So he gathered his papers together in silence and left the room, stalking down the short length of corridor to his office.
Miranda sat at her desk outside, took one look at his face and returned to her work without comment. Theo didn’t slam the office door, but he closed it firmly behind him and sank back to lean against it. “Fuck,” he said quietly. “Fucking fuck.”
Dumping his papers on the desk, he flopped into his chair and swung around so he could stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows. He’d been back in the office two days and already it felt like he’d never left. His diary was crammed with project meetings, his in-box brimming with unread emails flagged “urgent”—and he was glaring out across the simmering city like he had nothing better to do than mope.
After five minutes or so, his door opened and the scent of coffee wafted in. He let out a breath. Miranda.
“Can I make an observation?” she said.
Reluctantly, he swiveled his chair around to face her. “About what?”
“You.” Miranda wasn’t usually shy in coming forward, but today she shrugged uncomfortably as she set a mug of coffee on his desk. She didn’t usually bring him coffee, either. “You’re super distracted. I mean—” she waved a hand at him “—more than usual.”
It was true. Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t stop thinking about Luca. He ached with a constant thrum of regret and longing that never faded, day or night. Christ, how was it possible to miss someone so much your bones hurt? At times he felt frantic with longing, desperate to see him, to touch him, and yet helpless to do anything about it. Because it was over; he’d destroyed Luca’s trust in him and there was no coming back from that kind of betrayal. His frustration was unbearable.
And then there was the Majestic, which only made things worse. The problem was, he could see its potential so clearly: the coastal-chic dining room, its French doors standing open to an alfresco dining area, the garden well tended but retaining something of its magical, rambling charm, the gazebo nestled among the trees for weddings or music, the twinkle lights dancing in the branches...
And Luca, running it. Owning it. Smiling and happy in Theo’s arms.
His gaze dropped to the plans on his desk, the safe, faceless new-build design he’d grown to hate. “I guess I have a few things on my mind.”
“Anything I can help with?”
He considered her offer for a moment, a beat of wild possibility pulsing in the back of his mind. Sliding the plans for the new-build across his desk, he said, “What do you think of it?”
Miranda watched him, as if assessing what he was asking for, then sat down and took a closer look. “The design?”
“Yes. All of it.”
“Well, it’s...” She glanced up. “Honest opinion?”
“Of course.”
“Boring.”
Theo nodded, that uneasy exciting beat growing more forceful. “It’s safe,” he said, looking down at the architect’s drawing. “There are a thousand other hotels that look just the same.”
“You know what you’re getting when you check in,” Miranda countered. “But it could be anywhere in the country.”
“Anywhere in the world,” Theo agreed. “But the Majestic... She’s part of the landscape, she belongs to New Milton.” Like Luca belonged to the Majestic. “It feels wrong, tearing her down.”
Miranda kept her eyes on the plans as she said, “What does the Big Boss think?”
“He wants the new resort open by spring.” Theo scrubbed a hand through his hair, its silky texture reminding him of how it had felt full of sea salt and sand. “He thinks I’m being...sentimental even considering other options.”
“Are you?” Miranda looked up sharply. “Considering other options?”
“I—” He grimaced. “Nothing realistic. Nothing I could present to the board as a viable alternative when profit is the only measure of success.”
Miranda traced a black-painted fingernail along the lines of the drawing. “How would you measure success?”
“Happiness.” The word slipped out before he had time to censor it.
“Saving the Majestic would make you happy?”
“Not only me.” He looked away, back out over the sweltering city, indulging in the idea of telling Luca and Jude that he’d saved their hotel. Luca would smile his boyish smile and maybe hold out his arms. Theo would go to him and they’d hug and—Shit. His eyes stung and he blinked, turning away from the window.
“Ah,” Miranda said softly. “This is about Luca Moretti.”
His stomach flip-flopped painfully. “We should be working...”
“You’ve got ten minutes before your next meeting, and since you’ve basically been staring out the window all day, I guess you can spare the time.” He grimaced, but couldn’t deny it. “So come on,” she said, “what are you gonna do?”
“About what?”
“The Majestic. Luca Moretti. Both.”
He shook his head, reaching for the papers for his next meeting. “There’s nothing I can do, on either score.”
“Bullshit.”
“There’s not!” Theo fixed his eyes on the papers, trying to make sense of them. He should have read them last night but he’d been too distracted. “The Majestic’s going to be demolished, Miranda, and Luca will never forgive me. That’s it. That’s what’s going to happen.”
“Or—you could tell him how you feel, and make it right.”
He ignored her first, impossible suggestion. “Make it right how?”
She pushed the hotel plans back across the desk toward him. “I think you already know.”
He stared at her, shook his head, but that excited beat of possibility in the back of his mind pulsed harder. Was it possible? He got to his feet, walked to the window. Outside, the constant hum of the city fell away and all he could hear was the pounding of his heart, the rush of blood through his ears. It sounded like the distant roar of the ocean. “Dad’s right, the board would never agree,” he said. “I’d have to go it alone. And that would be impossible.”
“Would it?”
Well, not impossible. He wasn’t without financial resources himself, although not enough for what he had in mind. “I’d need to find a couple of big investors.” Ideally, investors with ties to New Milton, and the balls to take a chance on something they believed in...
“You’re good at finding investors,” Miranda reminded him. “You’re good at turning ideas into reality. You’re good at this, Theo. It’s what you do.”
It was. But this felt different. This felt as terrifying and exhilarating as dropping down the face of a wave with nothing but a flimsy board to cling to. But he’d done that once, and had lived to tell the tale. He’d done it because of Luca.
Heart pounding, he turned away from the window with a smile. “Miranda, I’m going to need your help.”