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Easy. “Money, power, and fame.”
“There’s one more.”
A furrow dug between my brows. “Ego? No, that falls under the other three. Revenge? Ambition? Spite?”
Xavier side-eyed me. “Passion.”
“Oh.” I wrinkled my nose. “Not as good as spite.”
That was what had driven me to build Kensington PR into what it was today. Yes, I was passionate about what I did, and yes, I needed the income, but during my darkest moments and most sleepless nights, spite was the fire that kept the darkness at bay.
I’d wanted to prove I could thrive without my family’s money or support, and I had. They wanted me to fail and ask for their help; I would rather tie the last brick of my business to my feet and jump into the Hudson before I gave them that satisfaction.
That was just me though. Maybe other people were different. “Perhaps not,” Xavier said dryly. “But I’ve been doing some research into Vuk, and he has an interesting history. Do you know how Markovic Holdings started?” I shook my head.
“Vuk worked for a small distillery in his hometown in high school. He loved the place but hated how it was run, so he hustled and saved until he had enough money to buy it outright after college. He studied chemical engineering, and after he took over the distillery, he revolutionized the vodka-making process to create…”
“Markovic Vodka,” I finished, naming the world’s most popular vodka brand.
“Exactly. Obviously, he’s come a long way since then, but the point is, this wasn’t a man who went into the business for money or fame. He saw something he loved, thought he could do it better, anddiddo it better. It took years and a shit ton of work, but he did it. That’s passion.” Xavier shook his head. “That was my mistake. I appealedsolelyto his business side and forgot about the heart.” I smiled. Vuk wasn’t the only passionate one; I’d never heard Xavier so fired up about something until the club.
“Appealing to his other side is a good idea,” I said. “When’s your next meeting with him?”
“Tomorrow. The problem is, I don’t have a frame for my pitch. I didn’t exactly grow up dreaming of being a nightclub owner.”
“No, but I distinctly remember a pile of discarded bar sketches in Colombia. They’re a start.”
“They’re also in the trash. In Colombia,” he pointed out.
“I’m guessing if you had them there, you’ll have some lying around here.” I arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen your house. You still have a trophy for winning Biggest Flirt at prep school.”
“Hey, that trophy is made of solid fake gold. It’s worth its weight in sentimentality.” Xavier’s teeth flashed white against his tanned skin. “But you might be right about some old sketches lying around.”
“That’s why people pay me the big bucks,” I quipped.
We walked for another five minutes before we stopped in front of a charming brick building. Ivy blanketed its walls, and a peek through the glass door revealed an elegantly appointed lobby filled with plants and rich fabrics.
“It’s a new family-owned boutique hotel,” Xavier said. “It opened just a few months ago, but its restaurant serves some of the best Thai food in the city.”
My stomach rumbled at the mention of food. “Sold.”
“One more thing before we go in.” His face sobered with a touch of nerves. “I booked the hotel for the night in case you’d rather stay here. With me. Their suites are beautiful, and—”
“Okay.” My heart thudded out another response.
Yes.Yes. Yes.
Surprise flashed in his eyes, followed by a slow smile that sent a cascade of tingles down my spine.
“Okay,” he repeated.
That was all we needed to say.
“Good evening, Mr. Castillo.” The front desk recognized him on sight. “Which of our suites would you like to stay in tonight?”
“We’ll take the Royal Suite and dinner by the pool. Please send pajamas and toiletries as well. We didn’t bring any luggage.”
“Of course. If you change your mind, any of our other suites are at your disposal.”
