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She nodded and touched her chest. “Magda.” She reached her hand for mine again. I allowed her to open my palm again.
“You see here?” she tapped a line. “You must decide. Is—what you say? Is crossroad for you. What you choose?”
A tingle started at the base of my spine.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to choose.”
She smiled thinly and patted my hand. “Is life.”
I wanted to say more, to ask her more, to beg for answers, but she leaned back in her rocking chair and closed her eyes. In a moment, she was asleep.
This had been one weird night.
ChapterTwenty-Two
I woke up from a fitful sleep the next morning with a throbbing head. It might have been Madame Zura’s mystical cocktail, or it could just be the stress of everything.
I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking I still had a chance at this deal. Greta had all but told me last night that it was done, and Ondrej echoed her sentiment. And Pavel’s position had been made blindingly clear. It didn’t matter what Ondrej wanted. It didn’t matter how convincing I could be to their emotional side. I—Arcadia—couldn’t offer the same amount of money that Greta could. And ultimately, that was the nail in the coffin. I would try one more time, one more day. But I thought it was probably time I packed my bags and brushed up my résumé.
I made my way down to the lounge in search of food and coffee. It was early, so I was the first guest—or at least non-staff member, whatever I was—there.
Strangely, I found the hotel staff huddled in the corner of the lounge, engaged in whispered conversation. Their brows were furrowed in concern, and my stomach twisted. Had something happened?
It wasn’t my business, so I casually strode in and made my way to the included continental breakfast. But I definitely didn’t miss the eyes following me as I reached for an orange.
Once I had my coffee, I smiled at the group, but they only met my smile with wariness.
I glanced down at the table they were huddled around, and my mouth went dry. They were looking at…blueprints. Or at least a sort of rendition of a blueprint.
I stepped closer.
“Good morning,” I said tentatively.
No one said anything. I might have been overstepping, but I didn’t care. I had a sinking feeling. I pushed my way through and stared down at the table.
Spread out on the table were indeed rough building renderings—my rough blueprints, diagrams, and sketches. I picked one up. Oh God. They were my initial renovation plans for the Novák Hotel. No, no. They weren’t even anything official. They were just my novice playing around at architectural design, full of ambitious changes and modern updates that now seemed so impersonal, so invasive. Things created in my mind before I stepped foot in the Novák.
I looked back at the group of employees.
“Um. Where did you get these?”
No one said anything for a moment. Finally, a woman in a front desk uniform said, “Someone found a drive in the lounge. They checked it to see who it belonged to. And these were on there.”
The faces of the staff were a mix of confusion and anger. These were people who had devoted years, even decades, to this hotel, and to them, these blueprints must have looked like a blueprint for destruction.
I felt a rush of panic and regret.
“Oh, damn. Um, these aren’t anything. Nothing official. Just me playing around. And—I can’t explain.” I quickly gathered up the documents, ignoring the fact that someone had my flash drive and was probably disseminating copies of this all over town for some reason.
The group turned. I followed their stares and saw Ondrej enter the room. His presence alone was enough to hush the crowd, their eyes shifting to him, then to me, in anticipation. I pulled the printouts close to me, then sank when I saw he already had a copy in his hands. Of course, he did.
“Ondrej—”
“We need to talk.”
I nodded nervously.
“Come on.” He turned and motioned for me to follow.
