Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Will you be staying on to manage The Countess?” Elizabeth asked.
“I’m not sure yet. There’s a position open on the west coast, but I haven’t made up my mind where I’ll land.”
She nodded. “Well, I’ll keep in touch until you tell me otherwise.”
“Thank you.”
Elizabeth extended a hand to Otto Potter. “It was nice meeting you, Otto. I wish you the best of luck with Easy Feet.”
“Considering the check you just handed me, I think Easy Feet will be walking on Easy Street for a while.”
She smiled. “Are you heading back uptown? Want to share a cab?”
Otto shook his head. “Actually, I’m going to hang around here for a bit.”
The two shook, and then it was just Otto and me left. He smiled warmly. “I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment, if you have time.”
I extended a hand back to our seats. “Sure. I have plenty of time.”
After we settled in, Otto took a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He slid it across the table to my side. “The terms of the bidding were confidential. But I figured now that the papers are all signed, and you’re the majority shareholder of The Countess, there’s no harm in sharing the bid I received from the Lockwoods.”
I picked up the paper and skimmed it. It was the same offer form I’d signed to submit my family’s bid, only this one had $1.00 filled in the spot where the bid amount was to go. My eyes scanned down to the bottom to check the signature. Sure enough, none other than Weston Lockwood had signed it.
I shook my head and looked up at Otto. “I don’t understand.”
He shrugged. “Neither did I. So I called Weston to make sure there wasn’t a mistake. He confirmed that this was indeed his family’s bid.”
“But…that means he wanted to lose?”
Otto took the paper back and folded it up. Sticking it in his pocket, he said, “I think it’s more like he wanted to make sure someone else won.”
***
My heart raced as I stood in front of the door. The last few weeks had been hell. Every step I’d taken had felt like walking over a long bridge. Today was supposed to be the day I finally crossed to the other side. But instead, I stood right back at the place I’d started.
This morning, my plan had been to sign the legal paperwork for The Countess to make things official and then try to relax and figure out what was next for me. I’d told my grandfather I’d get back to him about the west coast job by tomorrow, so I had some big decisions to make. I’d assumed I’d be in a better mental place after today’s formalities. But I was more confused than ever now, and I needed to hear things straight from the horse’s mouth.
So I raised my hand and took a deep breath as I knocked on Weston’s hotel room door. It had been eight days since I saw him in that conference room. His office had been dark and shut, and he was nowhere to be found in the hotel. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he left. But I did know better, because I’d monitored the hotel’s reservation system to see if he’d checked out. As of last night, he hadn’t.
On a jagged exhale, I forced my knuckles to connect with his door. My heart pounded as I waited for it to open, and my head felt almost as if I had a cold—full of foggy thoughts I couldn’t clear. I had so many questions. After a minute or two and no response, I knocked again, this time louder. While I waited, the elevator down the hall dinged, and the doors slid open. A bellman pushed a full luggage cart out and walked in my direction. He tipped his hat.
“Afternoon, Ms. Sterling.”
“Call me, Sophia, please.”
“Alright.” He slid a key into a room two doors down and proceeded to take the bags inside. When he was done, he pointed at the door I stood in front of.
“Are you looking for Mr. Lockwood?”
“I am. Yes.”
He shook his head. “I think he might’ve checked out a little while ago. Saw him with his luggage at the front desk when I came in, about nine o’clock.”
It felt like my heart stopped. “Oh. Okay.”
Since there was no point in standing here, I debated going downstairs to the front desk and confirming what the bellman had said. But I wasn’t sure I could hold back the tears once I did. So instead, I walked to the elevator and hit the button for my own floor. At least it was afternoon, so technically I wouldn’t be drinking in the morning.
It took all of my effort to put one foot in front of the other and exit the car, but when I did, my sluggish steps faltered.