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“After you, m’lady.”
Every cell in my body vibrated as we walked side by side. How did he even know I’d be here? Oh, probably from Bianca. Well, this made things a tad more complicated. I wasn’t ready to see him again so soon. I’d been counting on these last few hours to pull myself together.
We stopped when a man with graying hair came up to us.
“Davenport. Surprised to see you here. Not your scene. I think no one’s seen you out in years. Few of us wondered if you actually still exist or are just a myth.”
Reid’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Still here.”
“How’s your old man?”
“Enjoying retirement.”
“Bet he’s proud of you. Thrown to the wolves so young, and you showed everyone. Have to say, I was one of those who thought you wouldn’t last. Gave you a year before you sold.”
What the fuck?
“Still have no intention of selling. Can I introduce you to Hailey?”
I shook hands with the man. I disliked him intensely.
“Who was that?” I asked once he’d moved on to someone else.
“Competitor. Owns one of the other vintage hotels in town.”
“What did he mean about your dad?”
Reid frowned. “It’s not public knowledge, but Dad had a stroke ten years ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. How is he doing now?”
“His recovery was very slow, and he’s not one hundred percent his old self, so work is out of the question.”
“That’s why you took over the business.”
“Yes.”
“You were twenty-two, right? Wow. That’s a lot of responsibility.”
We each took a glass of champagne, moving to a less crowded area of the room.
“I’d never actually intended to work at the hotel.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I want to. What is it about you, hmmm?”
He dragged his fingers down my cheek, stopping at my ear. His touch was dangerous in more ways than one, but I just didn’t have it in me to pull away.
“I have dyslexia. Reports, numbers... they’ve always been a struggle. I somehow winged it through college, but when you’re in charge of hundreds of millions, struggling won’t cut it. I wanted to work as a carpenter. Something where I used my hands. Dad had made a risky investment the year he had the stroke and expanded the hotel. The banks were breathing down his neck, ready to sell the hotel to the highest bidder if the numbers didn’t pan out. He wanted someone he could trust at the helm.”
“You,” I whispered.
“The hotel was his life’s work, and that of his parents. I wanted to keep their legacy safe.”
