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My stomach was flip-flopping on repeat as my nerves threatened to spill out. I was a pro at presentations, but honestly, I’d never done it like this. I’d never been completely solo—especially when faced with so much adversity. I kept my eyes locked on Pavel, my one known supporter in this. Even if my gaze kept aimlessly wandering back to Ondrej.
As I took center stage, so to speak, the Novák siblings settled into their seats, a triptych of anticipation.
“Thank you for coming back today, to hear me out fully. I understand this is a very passionate endeavor and that feelings are running hot.”
Ondrej coughed audibly in a way that felt all too intentional. I tried not to let it get to me, remembering Dominika’s words the previous night.
“Believe me when I say that I appreciate how much this hotel means to you.“
“I can’t see how that’s true,“ Ondrej said.
Pavel shot him a glare.
“Ondrej, please,” Dominika said.
I raised my voice a little louder. “It’s alright. I understand. And I don’t expect you to just sit there while I talk. Your frustrations and objections are understandable and noted. But, despite what you might think, I do understand. I’m not coming in as a corporate robot unable to see the value of this place. Unable to understand what it means to you. There is a reason I do what I do with properties such as yours. It’s your home, your history. But at the end of the day, we all understand the facts and figures. Because you have shared it with us, we know the financial situation you’re in. We want to preserve your legacy. We want to preserve the magic of this place. That’s what Arcadia Group is all about and so we can help you do that.” I turned toward my presentation and clicked through. “I know this is the first time we’ve really discussed what this deal would look like. So, Let me show you our vision.”
My nerves were on fire as the renderings flickered on the screen, a dance of light and shadow, showcasing a future where luxury embraced legacy.
"Our plan," I continued, "is to restore the hotel's exterior to its original grandeur, focusing on preserving its unique architectural elements." As I explained the detailed façade restoration and landscaping revitalization, I noticed Ondrej's eyebrows arch slightly in interest.
Moving to the interior plans, I could feel the room's energy shift. "The lobby will be modernized while maintaining its key historical features," I said, showcasing digital displays that would tell the hotel’s history. The idea seemed to resonate with Dominika, her eyes lighting up at the blend of past and present.
I flipped to the next slide, showing the guest room updates. "Modern amenities are essential, but they will be integrated with historical decor elements, like these vintage murals and furniture." Pavel, who had been the hardest to read, nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on the designs.
"The dining experience," I elaborated, "will offer both traditional Czech cuisine and international fare, using locally sourced ingredients." I could see them visualizing it, the merger of culinary traditions mirroring their own blend of heritage and modernity.
"Our approach would be sustainable," I stressed, detailing our plans for eco-friendly solutions and collaborations with local artisans. This seemed to catch their attention, an acknowledgment of the hotel’s role within the community.
I paused before the final slides, locking eyes with each sibling. "Our vision is to rejuvenate the Novák Hotel, infusing it with modern luxury and amenities while honoring and preserving its historical essence. This isn't just about renovation. It's about breathing new life into these walls that hold so many stories."
As the presentation concluded, a silence enveloped the room. It was a heavy, thoughtful silence, pregnant with possibilities. I looked at the siblings, each lost in contemplation, their expressions a mix of nostalgia, hope, and uncertainty. I knew then that I had, at the very least, given them a glimpse of a future where tradition and progress could coexist beautifully.
I occasionally spared glances to my reluctant audience. Pavel's face was a canvas of calculations, the gears of his mind so clearly turning with each figure and fact. Dominika's expression fluttered like a candle flame, brightening at mentions of preservation but flickering in uncertainty at the modern twists.
And Ondrej—oh Ondrej, you winter child. He was a fortress with windows, allowing glimpses of appreciation and skepticism to escape before shuttering them again.
The room was still as I concluded, the echo of my last words hanging in the air like a question. I extended the paperwork, holding my breath. Pavel was the first to break the silence, his words practical yet noncommittal.
“Impressive presentation, I think even for our most skeptical critics,” he flashed his brother a look. “You know I am in favor of pushing this through. But of course, we need time to discuss, the three of us.”
“Of course,” I said, trying to keep an open and pleasant expression.
But it was Ondrej who held my attention. He approached one of the renderings, his fingers tracing the outlines of a future that could be. His expression was an enigma, a play of light and shadow I couldn't decipher. As I watched him, a single thought echoed in my mind: What would it take to sway the heart of a man who loved his legacy as much as Ondrej Novák did?
ChapterEight
That evening, I meandered along the cobblestone streets that snaked through Prague's Old Town, trying to shake off my nerves from the day. I had literally no idea how my presentation had been received and, of course, now my anxiety was having a field day. The soft glow of street lamps guided me along until I reached the outskirts of the Old Town. The air was icy, but it was cleansing, and I felt the stress breaking away with each frost inhale, my breath painting ghostly plumes in the chilly winter air.
The evening chill wrapped around me like a shawl as I meandered through the enchanting streets. Under the cloak of night, the city transformed into a realm of whispered histories and shadowed mysteries. I paused beneath a particularly imposing iron lamppost, its light casting golden halos on the cobblestones, and gazed up at the night sky. Above, the stars peered down through a gauzy veil of clouds, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the Gothic spires and Baroque facades. The buildings stood as silent sentinels, their windows flickering with the warm light of lives being lived. The gentle murmur of the Vltava River accompanied my solitary stroll, its waters a dark ribbon threading through the city’s heart.
Occasionally, laughter and music spilled out from the open doors of cozy pubs, breaking the stillness with bursts of life. Preparations for Christmas were all around, and it looked like the Old Town was under plans for something major. I thought I’d read inTravel Luxe & Leisurethat Prague had one of the best Christmas markets. The scents of roasted chestnuts and rich spices wafted through the air. I watched as couples huddled close, their hands entwined, sharing secret smiles and stolen kisses as the holiday magic unfolded and felt a small twinge. Charlie unexpectedly invaded my mind and I realized it was the first time I’d thought of him since I’d left. When I texted him the screenshot of Kissy Katie’s post and said it was over, he’d simply said, “For the best.”
Six months just gone up in smoke like it never happened. Poof! Well, there you go. Like I’ve said, relationships are just pointless.
Up ahead, nestled between the shadows and the fading daylight, a cozy pub pulsed with life, its warm glow standing out like a beacon amidst the frosty night. I timidly walked toward it and stopped before the Old World exterior. I started to open the door, then hesitated, feeling like an intruder. I shook off the silly sentiment and pushed. The overhead sign, a weathered emblem of a frothy stein, creaked as I nudged open the heavy wooden door, and I was instantly wrapped in the embrace of warmth and the scent of roasted hops and smoldering wood. The air was thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses, a symphony of human connection that resonated deep in my bones.
The inside walls were dressed in dark oak panels that smelled of merriment and timeworn revelry. The ceiling was a lattice of sturdy beams, and dim light spilled from wrought-iron sconces, bathing the patrons in a soft, golden hue that smoothed away the edges of the modern world.
