I thought about it. Honestly, did I give a shit if he had some nefarious reason for wanting me to call him Weston and wear my hair up? It wouldn’t kill me, and he could certainly request much worse. “What’s number three?”
“You’ll have dinner with me once a week.”
My entire face scrunched up in disdain. “I’m not going out with you!”
“Think of it as a business meeting. We’re running a hotel together. I’m sure there will be plenty of things we’ll need to discuss.”
He had a point, yet the thought of sitting across from him and sharing a meal really made me feel unsettled.
“Lunch,” I said.
He shook his head. “My conditions are not negotiable. Take it or leave it.”
I growled. “If I agree to your ridiculous conditions, you have to keep your end of the bargain. You will not mention what happened last night—not to one of your stupid friends, not to a staff member, certainly not to any of your obnoxious family. My momentary lapse in sanity will be forever locked away in your birdbrain, never to be spoken of again.”
Weston held out his hand. I hesitated for so many reasons. Though in the end, I was going to have to work with him for a while, and it was my idea to put everything behind us so we could move forward as professionals. And professionals did shake hands. So while every bone in my body told me to avoid him at all costs, I nevertheless placed my hand in his.
Like in a sappy romance movie, the jolt that ran through my body made every hair on my arm jump to attention. And my luck, the idiot had to notice.
He took in the goose bumps prickling on my skin and smirked. “Dinner at seven tomorrow evening. I’ll let you know where.”
Thankfully, our nine o’clock appointment knocked and put an end to our private discussion. The hotel’s general manager opened the door. He walked to my side of the table first. “I’m Louis Canter.”
“Sophia Sterling. It’s very nice to meet you.” We shook.
Louis then reached out to Weston, and the two men shook while Weston introduced himself.
“Thank you for coming,” I said. “I know you usually work from eleven to seven, so I appreciate you arriving early so we can spend a little time before your busy day starts.”
“No problem.”
“I read that you’re the longest-running employee at The Countess. Is that right?”
He nodded. “It is. Started when I was fifteen, doing odd jobs for Ms. Copeland and both your grandfathers. Pretty sure I’ve held just about every position there is to have here over the years.”
I smiled and motioned to the chair at the head of the table, the one between Weston and me. “That’s incredible. We’re very lucky to have someone with so much knowledge and experience. Please, have a seat. We just wanted to discuss the transition and listen to any concerns you might have.”
“Actually.” Weston stood. “Something’s come up, and I need to step out. I probably won’t be back until this evening.”
I blinked a few times. “What are you talking about? When did something come up?”
Weston spoke to the general manager. “I apologize, Louis. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. I’m confident you and Ms. Sterling will be able to handle anything that needs to be handled for the time being. Sophia can fill me in tomorrow evening on what I’ve missed.”
Seriously? We had a half-dozen meetings scheduled with key employees today, the entire purpose of which was to assure people their jobs were safe, and everything would continue to run smoothly. Everyone knew the Sterlings and the Lockwoods despised each other, which made them extra nervous. And he decides to ditch the meetings? What kind of a message would that send? One of the new owners doesn’t even have time for you?
“Umm…” I stood. “Could I speak to you a moment before you go, Lockwoo—Weston?”
He flashed a gratified smile.
I nodded toward the conference room door. “Outside in the hall.” I turned back to Louis. “Excuse me for just one minute, please.”
“Take your time.”
Once we were in the hall, I looked around to make sure no staff were in the vicinity. Planting my hands on my hips, I attempted to keep my voice down. “What the hell? We have a full day of meetings. What’s so important that you’re ditching?”
Like he’d done last night, Weston wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger and gave it a firm tug. “You can handle it, Fifi. You’re a people pleaser. I’m sure you’ll have all the staff feeling like the old bat kicking the bucket was a good thing by the time you’re done.”
I slapped his hand away from my hair. “I’m not your secretary. What you miss is your problem. Don’t expect me to report back to you.”