‘“The faux Victorian furniture is twee. It must also be noted that the motel has an extremely limited meal service.”’
He switched off his phone and dropped it to the table. ‘The motel is a mess!’
She seized her own phone. ‘Shame on you. I know exactly which review you just referred to. It’s Mick Bowen’s, and he goes on to say that despite all those failings he wouldn’t stay anywhere else when he’s visiting this part of the world. He praises the made-to-order breakfasts, the firm beds and deep pillows. He appreciates the size of the rooms and the cleanliness of the bathrooms.’ She fixed him with a glare that was half-triumph half-annoyance. ‘You’ll have noticed that he says “the hospitality is exceptional.”’
Xavier tried to smother a scowl.
She flung both arms out wide. ‘Have you ever read a better review in your life?’
‘It doesn’t change the fact that the motel needs work!’
‘Work that you can afford to do without destroying the tenor of the place or its...spirit. That review makes it clear what the clientele value. Shouldn’t you be capitalising on the motel’s strengths?’
‘I do five-star hotels—not three-star motor inns!’
‘Well, maybe it’s time you started—because the one thing the Gold Coast doesn’t need is another luxury hotel!’
They both seemed to realise at the same time that they were half out of their chairs and yelling.
They both sat back.
Wynne straightened her blouse. ‘You’re a businessman, Xavier. It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at the place, you’re never going to manage beach views. As for a resort-style pool—there’s just not enough room. So why on earth would the coffee tantrum-throwing crowd ever choose Villa Lorenzo over the Golden Palace?’
‘If I build up, the hotel will have beach views one side and canal views on the other. If I build up I can put a resort pool on the roof.’
She stilled as if he’d slid a knife in between her ribs—as if by remaining still it would mitigate the pain. His heart started to pound. It was his hotel!
Finally she swallowed. ‘You mean demolish the existing building?’
He kept his chin raised, but his heart started to ache—which made no sense at all. ‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
‘To build something on the same scale as this?’
He thrust his jaw out. ‘Better than this.’
‘You think Lorenzo would choose marble bathrooms and gold taps over warmth and kindness?’
‘It doesn’t have to be either or!’
‘Really? Well, let me tell you something for nothing, Xavier. The staff here wouldn’t intrude on a client who had their Do Not Disturb sign up. They wouldn’t dare, for fear of looking unprofessional. And apparently their mission statement doesn’t run to consoling a child. They’re too afraid to give a crying four-year-old a cuddle because—heaven forbid—it might upset his parents!’
Her words speared into the centre of him. She hadn’t cared what anyone thought when she’d pulled that little boy onto her lap. She’d just wanted to comfort him. He admired her for it.
She pointed a finger at him and he couldn’t help but notice how it trembled.
‘That’s not a world I want to live in. And I wouldn’t have thought it was one you wanted to live in either.’
He pushed his chair back and shot to his feet. She didn’t know it, but she’d just accused him of being like his grandmother—entitled, selfish...cold. A part of him couldn’t help wondering if she was right. A part of him couldn’t help wondering if that was the reason Luis had become so guarded around him.
He made his voice as frosty as he could. ‘You’re straying perilously close to the personal, Wynne. It’s time we returned to the motel.’
* * *
Wynne marched down the nursing home’s corridor, hands clenched and mind racing. She so had to work on her deference skills. But...
He wanted to build a ludicrous palace to offer up on the altar of indulgence and extravagance! What was a body supposed to do? She and her staff would once again be told they weren’t good enough, that they didn’t measure up, and they’d all be out on their ears. It was enough to make her scream!
She’d been told she wasn’t good enough for Duncan’s world because she didn’t wear designer clothes and apparently her robust social conscience was unfashionable—‘So last week, darling!’ The fact that she’d loved him hadn’t counted for anything. He’d treated her like rubbish that needed disposing of—had mentally assigned her to the trash when he’d got what he’d wanted. That casual cruelty had turned her life upside down.
Libby and the others from the Down Syndrome shelter weren’t considered good enough because they’d been born a bit different. Her teeth ground together. They had as much right as anyone to a place in the world.
As for April and Justin... Sure, they’d made mistakes—mistakes that had cost them dearly—but everyone was entitled to a second chance.
They were all good enough and she wouldn’t let anyone tell them differently! She wouldn’t let anyone break them the way Duncan had almost broken her.
She came to an abrupt halt.
Could she change Xavier’s mind?
The Golden Palace provided excellence in standards and service, but where was the brotherly love and the milk of human kindness? It’d been sacrificed for efficiency and opulence. She’d forced Xavier to see the impersonality and sterility hidden behind all that luxury...and the fact that the Golden Palace’s benevolence only extended to the chosen few. He hadn’t liked what he saw—hadn’t approved of it. Surely it wasn’t something he wanted to imitate or support?
It might yet be possible to change his mind.
Yeah, right, and pigs might fly.
She set off once more for her grandmother’s room. She refused to surrender just yet. Xavier might think a luxurious monolith was a fitting tribute to Lorenzo, but maybe she could get him to see that something more...human would better commemorate Lorenzo’s memory.
Or pigs might fly.
She bit back a sigh and entered her grandmother’s room. She so had to work on her negotiation skills.
Aggie looked up. ‘Do I know you, dear?’
‘Hello, Nanna, it’s Wynne’
‘Wynne?’
‘Your granddaughter.
‘I have a granddaughter?’
‘You do.’
It was the same ritual every visit. It no longer caught at her heart the way it had used to. Which just went to show that a body could get used to just about anything.
Aggie sat in a plush recliner. Wynne took the visitor’s chair next to it and nodded towards the hot pink gerbera daisies sitting on the bedside table. ‘They’re pretty.’
‘One of the nurses brings them in every week. At least she says she’s a nurse, but I know that she’s not.’ She leaned forward in a confidential manner. ‘She’s really my daughter.’
‘Coral?’
‘Is that my daughter’s name? Well, yes, of course it is. Yes—Coral brings them every week. She’s going to take me home soon.’
Wynne had a standing order with a local florist, and she knew that Aggie would never be coming home, but she didn’t have the heart to tell her either of those things. Aggie received the very best of care here, and she had an opportunity to mix with the other folk in the nursing home too, as well as to attend the occasional outing. And yet she’d never been able to reconcile herself to being there.
‘Coral is in France, Nanna.’ She lifted the latest postcard propped up against the vase. ‘See? She sends her love.’
‘She’ll be back to take me home soon.’
Wynne pulled a bag of sweets from her purse. ‘I brought you a present.’
Aggie’s face lit up. She reached in
to the bag and pulled out several jelly babies, the creases around her eyes deepening in pleasure as she munched on the sweets. Wynne savoured the moment. Seeing her grandmother enjoy herself had become the exception rather than the rule. Wynne couldn’t get used to that. The memory loss and the confusion she could harden herself to, but not Aggie’s lack of joy...her misery and fury.
More and more she’d gone from someone determined to wring every drop of pleasure from each day to an angry, resentful stranger.
‘Nanna, do you remember a man from Spain called Lorenzo?’
Aggie stilled, and just for a moment Wynne thought the shock of hearing the name might bring a long-buried memory to the fore...that for a few brief moments a lucid Aggie would emerge. It did still happen on occasions.
This wasn’t one of those occasions.
‘The nurses are trying to kill me.’
Aggie’s face darkened and Wynne bit back a sigh. ‘But they bring you flowers.’
‘They want my money.’
Wynne shook her head. ‘You don’t have any money, Nanna.’
‘But I need money to buy my lunch. What will I do if I can’t buy my lunch?’
‘That’s all been taken care of. You don’t have to worry about money any more.’
The faded blue eyes grew cloudy with confusion. ‘You’re my granddaughter?’
‘That’s right. I’m Wynne.’
Aggie’s chin wobbled. ‘Will you take me home?’
A lump formed in her throat and her eyes stung. ‘This is your home now. Don’t you remember?’
Aggie’s lips twisted and her eyes flashed. ‘You’re my granddaughter, but you won’t take me home? You must be a bad granddaughter.’ Her voice rose. ‘You must be a wicked girl!’
A handful of jelly babies flew across to pelt Wynne’s cheek and neck.
‘You’re trying to kill me too!’
Two nurses rushed into the room. One planted a placating hand on Aggie’s arm. ‘Now, now, Ms Stephens, we don’t want you getting too excited. Remember what the doctor said?’
Aggie let her second handful of jelly baby ammunition drop to her lap. ‘Have I been ill?’
‘That’s right.’
The other nurse gently but inexorably led Wynne from the room. ‘It’s probably best if your grandmother rests now.’
Wynne couldn’t stop from glancing back over her shoulder at Aggie. Her heart clutched at how small and frail and scared her grandmother looked.
‘I promise she’s getting the very best of care.’
‘I know,’ Wynne managed through the lump in her throat. ‘And I’m truly grateful.’
She held off the tears until she was inside her car, where they wouldn’t inconvenience anyone.
* * *
Wynne didn’t return to the hotel until nearly four o’clock.
‘I said I want that picture removed now!’
Wynne stumbled to a halt in the foyer doorway as Xavier’s lethal tones reached her. Dear God! Xavier loomed across the check-in desk over a white-faced but defiant Tina. Neither one of them had seen her.
She closed her eyes and pulled in a breath.
Right. Bright. Breezy. Deferential. Smile!
‘Good afternoon, Xavier... Tina.’
She breezed in as if she didn’t have a care in the world...picking up the mail and flicking through it as she moved behind the counter...as if it hadn’t shaken her to find Xavier castigating her staff in tones that would have made her want to shrivel up inside if they’d been directed at her.
‘Xavier, I couldn’t help overhearing you just now. When, precisely, did you make your request to have Aggie’s portrait taken down?’
His eyes shot white-hot sparks across the distance between them. ‘You’re supposed to be out. Away. Enjoying your free afternoon.’ Each word was bitten out.
‘I had a lovely time, thank you.’
How on earth was she going to fix this? Difficult customers were one thing. A difficult boss was an altogether scarier proposition. She’d known her observations at the Golden Palace earlier had raised his hackles. She’d expected him to take it out on her, though, not on anyone else.
She set the mail down. ‘Tina, when did Mr Ramos request that Aggie’s portrait be taken down?’
‘Just after you left. At around twelve-thirty.’
Tina’s words emerged short and clipped, and it was all Wynne could do not to wince.
Xavier looked at his watch. ‘It is now after four. I refuse to countenance such blatant insubordination.’
‘So my free afternoon was granted to me entirely altruistically, was it?’
He scowled at her. She shrugged. It was better than him scowling at Tina. Tina didn’t get paid enough to put up with that sort of nonsense.
‘Tina, would you be an absolute love and put the kettle on? I expect the boys will be trooping in shortly for a glass of milk and a cookie, and I’d kill for a cup of tea.’
Tina left and Wynne turned back to Xavier. ‘On Thursdays the maintenance man works until midday. If you’d made your request prior to that, the picture would’ve been taken down today.’ She held up a hand when he looked as if he were about to speak. ‘It’s not just that it isn’t Tina’s job to clamber up a ladder to remove a picture—it’s an Occupational Health and Safety issue.’
He slammed his hands on his hips. ‘Why did she not explain this to me herself?’
‘Did you give her the chance?’
The flare of his nostrils told its own story. No, he hadn’t. Instead he’d flown off the handle, interpreting Tina’s actions as a deliberate act of rebellion.
‘So yelling at Tina as if she were an...an utter incompetent is how you saw fit to deal with this?’
His lethal gaze swung back to her. ‘You will take care not to speak to me as if I am an utter incompetent!’
He stabbed a finger at her and something inside her snapped. ‘As soon as you stop acting like an utter incompetent and a bully, I’ll stop treating you like one! Your behaviour as I walked into the foyer this afternoon wasn’t just appalling but totally unacceptable! It bordered on workplace bullying! Back in Spain you might be a total autocrat, but here you will learn to treat your staff with the respect they deserve. They’re not peasants that you can stomp beneath your feet, or minions to be crushed to your will or...or... They’re just good people, doing their best to lead good lives!’
His face turned black. ‘You’re—’
‘No!’ She cut him off. He couldn’t fire her. She grasped for a straw and found one. ‘What kind of example is that to set for your son?’
He blinked, and some of the fire drained from his eyes.
She gulped.
Their gazes clashed and locked. The very air between them seemed to simmer. For a moment he appeared darker, taller, stronger, and something inside her yearned towards him.
And then the drawing room door was flung open and both Blake and Heath came hurling out. ‘Wynne, is Luis here yet? We need him to play cricket!’
‘I’m afraid not.’ She glanced at Xavier. ‘Do we know when Luis is arriving?’
He stared at each of them in turn, his gaze hooded. ‘Tomorrow.’
Both boys cheered and Wynne ushered them back into the drawing room. She took a deep breath before turning and facing Xavier once more.
He rubbed his nape. ‘They are nice boys.’
‘Yes.’
His dark eyes throbbed into hers. ‘I overreacted with Tina.’
‘Yes.’ She kept herself to single syllables, not trusting herself with anything more.
‘You are...cross with me, yes?’
‘Furious.’ Oops, that was three syllables.
‘How can I temper this fury?’
She folded her ar
ms. ‘You can start by apologising to Tina.’
He spun on his heel and entered the drawing room. ‘Tina?’
Wynne glanced over his shoulder to see Tina turn to him warily.
‘I am very sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier. It was out of line. I promise it won’t happen again.’
Tina swallowed, nodded, shrugged. ‘No problem. It’s all good.’
Xavier came back into the foyer and Wynne ducked behind the counter. She needed to keep it between herself and Xavier. It made her feel...safer. Especially now his anger was spent.
She straightened a pen, the phone, the computer. Xavier moved to lean on the counter, those watchful eyes making her want to fidget even more.
‘How is your fury now?’
‘Starting to diminish.’
‘Not gone completely?’
She shook her head.
‘I should apologise to you too, Wynne. Today has not gone as I’d planned or hoped.’
That much was evident.
‘And then I came down here and saw Aggie’s picture still on the wall, after I’d asked Tina to have it removed, and...’ He glanced up at the portrait, his eyes stormy. ‘It felt like she was laughing at me in the same way she must’ve laughed at Lorenzo.’
The lines about his mouth deepened. His grief was so deep and so raw. She wished she could help allay it.
‘So you lost your temper?’
He dragged a hand down his face.
‘And then you jumped to unfounded conclusions. Xavier, I know you’re grieving for your grandfather, and I’m truly sorry for that, but you can’t talk to the staff the way you just spoke to Tina. It’s not fair. Please stop treating us like your enemies. We’re not plotting behind your back. Do you truly begrudge us the fond memories we have of Aggie’s Retreat? They won’t prevent us from developing fond memories of Villa Lorenzo too.’
Though heaven only knew how long the Villa Lorenzo would remain before he tore it all down.
‘Things change...time moves on...’ Lives were upended and hearts broken. ‘We’re all aware of that.’
Beneath his tan he’d paled, and she knew she’d made her point.
‘So to a couple of practical issues,’ she pressed on. ‘The maintenance man won’t be back till Saturday. I can have Aggie’s portrait removed then. My job description doesn’t involve climbing ladders either, but if you decide yours does then a ladder is kept locked in the storeroom cupboard beneath the second staircase. The key is in the drawer here. Also, you need to know that it’s been a long time since we’ve painted these walls. There’s going to be a noticeable rectangle on the wall once that picture comes down. All the paint around it will have faded. Have you thought what you might like to put up there instead? Do you have a picture of Lorenzo we could put up in its place?’
The Spanish Tycoon's Takeover Page 8