She pushes the folder back at me. “I already said no to Z when he told me your plans.”
“We need bulletproof windows for our guests. They need to be assassin proof,” I state, feeling no desire to shield her from the real reason why.
Her face pales. “Absolutely not. And if you for one second think a guest here is going to get assassinated…” She barely squeaks out the last word. “Then that guest is not welcome at The Whitney.”
“The guest list—my guest list—is not up to you. And since you brought up Z, I want to discuss that as well. He’s operating under direct order from me. What he’s doing is what I want. Stop getting in his way. Stop questioning him, and stop telling him no. Are we clear?”
“You don’t get to call all the shots,” she spits as her eyes narrow and her teeth clench.
“Since I’m paying the damn bills—”
“Does not give you the right to run my business. My hotel. Not yours.”
Feeling the need to take control of the situation that is spiraling due to emotions, I lean back in my chair and casually state, “You own the hotel for now. I give you another week or two until you’re forced to file bankruptcy. Maybe another month after that before you come to me begging to buy The Whitney so it doesn’t get bought out by Hyatt or Marriott.”
Her facial expression instantly morphs from fury to… fear? Sadness? Her wide eyes divert to her lap, and she swallows hard. Her fluttery hand movements practically beg to be held and stroked in comfort. For a split second, I consider reaching out to her and embracing her in my arms, kissing her forehead and promising all will be fine. Swearing that I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, guard The Whitney, and make sure she never has to worry about money again.
It’s a split second.
Momentary insanity.
I have to remain strong and remember what she did to me. She didn’t think twice about me or my future when she dissolved a long-standing partnership that my father left me. No matter how much my heart constricts as I watch her discomfort, I have to put myself back in time. I must remember the day she literally turned her back on me.
“Clearly I struck a nerve,” I press on, being an asshole. But I like that I’m back in the driver’s seat again.
Katja Belov has one hell of a temper. And when she’s fired up, she can become lethal with her tongue. But a beat down Katja, a worried Katja, and a broke Katja is so much easier to handle.
“I’m not going to file bankruptcy and risk losing The Whitney. Ever.”
I shrug. “It seems to me that your loving husband left you with few options.”
“That’s true. He used The Whitney as collateral for almost every bad deal he made,” she confesses. Her eyes look back up at me. “So, no. Bankruptcy is not an option. Losing The Whitney will never be an option. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my legacy.” She clears her throat and stares out the window. “I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything is okay, because it’s not. Far from it. And I’m furious with myself that I allowed this to happen while choosing to be blind. And that’s exactly what I did. I chose to be blind. I chose to close my eyes to everything Tristan did. I don’t know why exactly, other than it was easier.” She gives a light chuckle and shakes her head from side to side. “I’ve actually prided myself on just how well I observe other people. I have a notebook full of all my observations. Nothing could get past me. I could spot a secret a mile away. I could smell corruption or blackmail in the air. I saw all. I heard all. And yet… I chose to be blind when it came to my own husband and my own life. He distracted me with his infidelity. Little did I know, that was the least of his sins.”
“He was an ass.”
She nods sadly, still staring blankly out the window. “He was. And yet, I chose to ignore that. And my actions are catching up with me now. I risk losing everything that ever meant anything to me because I chose an easier route rather than facing a failing marriage and failing life head on.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad,” her eyes dart my way for a moment but then return to the window, not willing to settle on her reality. “Far worse than I expected.”
She takes a deep breath that wavers as she inhales. “I can’t afford the new windows. I can’t afford the more secure network. I can’t afford the seafood. I’m not saying no to Z because I’m being a bitch. I’m saying no because the money isn’t there.”
“Well, The Whitney needs to come first,” I say. “And since these expenses are due to my part of the business, I’ll cover them.”
Her eyebrow raises as she looks at me. I see her neck stiffen and the cords become visible as she asks, “For a price? One of your consequences? Because if that’s the case, you can take your money and shove—”
“It’s my part of the business, therefore my expense,” I interrupt. “But I get the feeling that you need more money now. A lot more. Am I wrong in sensing that desperation?”
“You aren’t wrong.” She looks down at her hands that are fidgeting on top of the table. “With news of Tristan’s death, his collectors are hounding me, and The Whitney is used as collateral for many of them.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“How much?”
“I need $475,000 to settle the more pressing debts. There are more, but I think The Whitney will be able to pay off the rest once we get back on our feet. I’ve already seen a growth in revenue—”