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He must feel me watching him because, abruptly, his gaze lifts and rockets to mine. I don’t look away. I’m really of the mindset, right now, that avoidance gets me nowhere but ignored. I did a lot of that with my father. So here we are. He’s looking at me. I’m looking at him. He’s waiting on my next move. I decide my next move is to stop standing in the shadows.
Boldly, at least it’s bold to me, I cross the room and make a beeline for him. The minute I’m in front of him, he murmurs to the woman beside us. “We need a moment.”
The woman never even looks at me. She simply steps away, while I simply offer Sawyer my hand. “I’m sorry for whatever nasty thing my father did to you.”
His eyes narrow sharply, and he takes my hand but doesn’t let it go. “What nasty thing do you think your father did to me?”
“I don’t know, but you hate us with such viciousness, that it must have been pretty bad. And I know now what I didn’t know when he was alive. He was not a kind person.”
A waiter appears with a tray of whiskey cocktails. He releases my hand and takes one. I wave the waiter off. Now is not the time to get hazy minded. Sawyer sips his whiskey, studying me with a keen eye. “You expect me to believe that you didn’t know your father was an asshole?”
“I’m not proud of that fact, but it’s true. He was an asshole to me, but I stupidly believed he reserved that treatment just for me. He was quite good at making me see my flaws so that I didn’t see his. But I’m not him.”
He sips his whiskey. “The North family does know how to make a fine whiskey,” he comments dryly. “You’re dating Jax North, I hear.”
“I am. I hope that you won’t hold that against him. Mr. Sawyer—”
“Kent. Call me Kent.”
“Kent. I’m not my father,” I repeat, “and I’d like to think my brother isn’t either. I want to find a way to make peace with you but I guess that means I should ask a difficult question. My brother has never done anything to burn you, has he?”
“Your brother has always been an extension of your father.”
“Are you telling me he’slikemy father?”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t believe that he is, but I just want you to tell me that you feel the same. I need to know you know I’m sincere in my apology. That would be hard for you to accept if you felt my brother to be your enemy.”
“Your brother has yet to burn me.” His eyes sharpen. “I don’t plan to give him the chance.”
Relief washes over me hard and fast. My brother doesn’t share my father’s reputation. Thank you, Lord, and my mind starts to work. “What if we call a truce? What if we, in fact, found a way to make money together?”
“How exactly would competing hotels make money together?”
“A rewards program.”
“We have one and so do you.”
“Yes, but there’s always ways to improve on all existing programs. I’m creative. I’ll put together a proposal as to how we make a reward program work for us both beyond what’s in place for both brands.” I hold up a finger with an idea. “We aren’t as developed as you in Europe. What if we partnered with you to send people to you, and we get a small percentage of your sales?”
“They’ll find us on their own.”
“Until we open our brand there and compete. What if we just don’t do that? What if you’re our partner in specific locations?”
“You think your brother and your board are going to agree to that?”
“If you do the same for us in locations you’re not presently. We can’t stop each other from growing, but we could come up with target markets that work.”
He considers me a moment. “There might be a pebble of something good there,” he says. “I’ll agree that it might, and I meanmight, be worthy of a conversation. If you’re involved.”
“I will be,” I assure him. “I propose a truce. Even a short one. Six months to see how we might be friends, who are also competitors, making money together instead of enemies trying to destroy the other. Because in war, there is destruction on both sides. I don’t want war with you.”
He laughs. “But you just told me you’ll fight hard if we go to war.”
“Would you want to partner with me if I didn’t have that in me?”
“You make a point, my dear. You make a point.”
