Libby was a housemaid? It took three beats before the deeper implications of that sank in. Before acid started to burn his stomach...the back of his throat. It was all he could do not to drop his head to his hands.
‘Yes, you can. But first come and meet Mr Xavier—the new owner of Aggie’s Retreat.’ She turned to Xavier. Her eyes had turned murky...cloudy...but she tilted her chin at a defiant angle. ‘Xavier, this is Libby—one of our housekeeping staff.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr Xavier.’ Libby spoiled the effect of her polite formality when she grinned up at him. ‘You have the best motel in the whole world and I love working here.’
Her smile was so wide and guileless it almost broke his heart.
‘Thank you, Libby. It is a great pleasure to meet you.’
‘Okay, here are the flowers.’
Wynne handed them to Libby, who took them reverently.
They watched her take the stairs slowly. Only when she’d disappeared from view did Xavier turn back to Wynne. In his chest, his heart pounded. Damn it all to hell!
‘I expect you now have some point to make?’ he said.
She knew that in the culture of luxury he wanted to create here there would be no place for the Libbys of the world. And that knowledge burned at him. He recalled Wynne’s passionate, ‘That’s not a world I want to live in.’ Now he understood why.
He’d bet Libby was just the tip of the iceberg.
He dragged a hand down his face. Wynne had built something unique here. Something good. Did he really have it in him to destroy it?
Lorenzo deserves the best!
‘A point to make?’
Wynne shrugged and, he suspected, chose deliberately to misunderstand him.
‘You want to know about the flowers? One of our regular guests—Mrs Amini—once let slip how much she loved pink and yellow carnations. So whenever she stays we make sure to have a bunch in her room. Believe it or not, she now drives half an hour out of her way, since her sales route changed last year, to stay here. She’s sent at least three of her fellow salespeople to us.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s a nice way to do business.’
‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’
But perhaps, in a roundabout way, it was. She was telling him that the people who stayed here—and the people who worked here—were just as important as the high-flying clients he had in mind for The Lorenzo. And he would agree with her. It was just...
Lorenzo deserves the best!
She swallowed, gripping her hands together. ‘Would you like me to write you a report?’
Turmoil rocked through him. ‘No.’ Not that he expected her to heed him. He could practically see her mentally drafting the said report.
‘Tía Wynne, can Libby play with me again tomorrow?’
Luis had taken to calling Wynne tía—aunt. For some reason that made Xavier’s chest clench up even tighter. So did the brilliant smile that Wynne sent his son.
‘I’ll see what I can arrange, pumpkin.’
She made her smile wide enough to encompass him as well. ‘Enjoy your afternoon, gentlemen. I’ll see you both at dinnertime.’
And then she left, leaving questions he couldn’t answer pounding through him.
He glanced at Luis. ‘Can I play?’
Luis shook his head. ‘It’s finished now. And I know you are very busy and have a lot of work to do.’
Dios! Nobody wanted his company—not even his son.
* * *
For the next week and a half Wynne only saw Xavier at brief moments throughout the day and at dinnertime. He’d said he wanted time to go over all of the motel’s records and account books. He’d said he was busy running the rest of the Ramos hotel empire, and that Aggie’s Retreat was small fry as far as he was concerned.
She didn’t believe that last bit—it had been said to put her in her place. She’d worked out that he called the motel Aggie’s Retreat when he was being critical, and Villa Lorenzo when he was being complimentary.
He’d told her simply to get on with the job he paid her to do.
And she didn’t blame him for that. Not in the slightest.
Way to go, Wynne. Tell your boss you don’t like him. What a winning move!
She didn’t know how to unsay it, though. Not without revealing that she’d said it deliberately to create distance between them because she found him far too tempting.
On Monday—eleven days after her ill-advised ‘While I respect you, I’m not sure I like you very much either’ comment—she was waltzing down the corridor with seventy-year-old Horace Golding when Xavier called her in to the conference room.
She forced herself to beam at him. ‘Horace has been waltzing me down that corridor since I was fifteen years old.’
Xavier pressed the fingers and thumb of one hand to his eyes and she knew in that moment that today was D-Day—the day the motel’s fate would be decided.
She collapsed into the chair opposite, and they faced each other across the table like opponents. With hands that shook, she opened her laptop. She opened a new document and then went to her recent browsing history and selected ‘Hostage Negotiation Techniques’. It didn’t seem too over the top. It felt as if Xavier were holding the motel to ransom.
The first instruction read: Don’t be direct. Apparently that could come across as aggressive and rude.
Okay. Um...
She smiled at Xavier. ‘Can I get you any refreshments? It’d only take a moment to put the coffee pot on.’
He shook his head. Then he frowned. ‘Do you want coffee?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ She wasn’t sure her stomach was stable enough even for water.
Don’t be direct.
‘I hope everything has been going well in the Ramos hotel world? You’ve been flat chat.’
‘Flat chat?’
‘Busy.’
Suspicion flitted across his face. ‘Are you hoping to hear that my corporation is about to fall over?’
‘No!’ She stared at him, her heart dashing itself against her ribcage. How could he have so badly misinterpreted her? ‘Dear Lord!’ She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘That’d be a disaster. Think of all of those jobs lost! It doesn’t bear thinking about. That would be very unwelcome news for Ag—Villa Lorenzo.’
He glared. ‘So why ask?’
‘I...uh...’ Her mouth went dry. ‘I was just making small talk.’
She glanced at her screen. Tip number two: Get them to say no, not yes. Saying yes would apparently make him feel trapped. Phrasing a question that he could answer in the negative would apparently make him feel safe.
Oka-a-y.
She looked up at him. ‘But of course you don’t pay me to make polite small talk, do you?’
She tried to accompany her words with a smile, though she feared it was a weak effort.
He stared at her, and for the briefest moment she thought he might smile. ‘That’s not strictly speaking true.’
No! You’re supposed to say no!
‘Your ability to make small talk with the guests at the motel is a valuable skill.’
His words shocked her so much she said, ‘You think I can be an asset here?’ And then she realised what she’d done. ‘No, no—don’t answer that.’
The frown in his eyes deepened. ‘Why not?’
‘Because it sounded like I was fishing for a compliment, and I’m quite certain that’s not the point of this meeting.’
Which begged the question—what was the point of this meeting? She couldn’t ask outright because that would be too direct.
Tip three: Let them feel in control. He was in control! Ah... But did he feel he was the one setting the agenda? Or did he feel she was railroading him?
She opened her mouth�
��Don’t ask a direct question. She closed it again. Argh!
‘Wynne, do you feel all right?’
No! Her head was spinning so fast her temples had started to throb. ‘I’m fine. Truly,’ she added at the look he sent her—a Look with a capital L.
She glanced at her computer screen for help. Defuse the negative. Which she was supposed to do by acknowledging what she thought he’d perceive as all the negatives in relation to his dealings with her. Uh-huh. She swallowed. Did he have all day?
‘Look, Xavier, I know I must seem difficult to work with. And maybe you think I haven’t been listening to you closely enough on how you want this motel to be a fitting tribute to Lorenzo. But I truly only want to help you make that dream a reality.’
As long as I get to keep my staff.
He sat back. ‘I appreciate that.’
She glanced back at her computer. There were two tips left. Somehow she had to get him to say the words That’s right. Once he said those words it would indicate that he felt she understood him.
She panicked for a moment, then suddenly stilled. ‘You loved your grandfather. You want to create a place that he’d be proud of.’
‘Yes.’
Could that be interpreted as That’s right?
The final tip advised her to Play dumb. The article gave her examples.
She swallowed and nodded. ‘How can I help you do that?’
She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes and it took all her strength not to fidget under his gaze.
‘That is what this meeting is about,’ he said finally.
‘Okay.’ She nodded, and hoped her expression looked winningly open.
‘Wynne, are you sure you feel okay? You look...odd.’
‘Just nervous,’ she confessed, her shoulders slumping. She tried to stiffen them again.
‘Why?’
‘Because I suspect you must think me cold and rude, not to mention unfriendly. And...’ She grimaced. ‘It makes me feel...’
‘Nervous?’
Was he laughing at her?
‘This is because of what happened in your back yard eleven days ago, yes?’
‘Um...yes.’
‘I do not think you are cold or rude or unfriendly.’
Why didn’t she feel reassured? ‘Okay, then. That’s a relief.’
‘Anything else?’ he enquired.
She couldn’t help feeling his felicity was faked. ‘Did you know that Aggie would’ve loved to turn this place into a luxury hotel?’
He didn’t so much as blink. ‘Then she won the wrong venue.’
His words didn’t make sense.
‘I have considered what you said to me after we visited the Golden Palace. I have considered many options.’
Her heart thundered up into her throat.
‘For the moment I do not mean to pursue the option of turning this place into a luxury hotel.’
Her mouth opened and closed. ‘So...no demolition?’
He shook his head.
Direct or not, she had to ask the question. ‘Do you mean to close us down?’
His head rocked back. ‘Absolutely not.’
She sagged.
‘So that is why you’ve been acting so odd?’
She sent him a weak smile. ‘It was one of the options that had been passing through my mind.’
‘Lorenzo wanted to buy this place back. He didn’t want me to destroy it.’
That was something, at least. As long as the motel was a going concern, then she could continue to advocate for her staff. ‘That’s good news.’
He shook his head again, as if the conclusion she’d jumped to completely baffled him. ‘I want to make changes, yes. Significant changes. I want the entire motel refurbished—I want a complete revamp of the decor—I want to expand into budget romantic getaways. But you have created a consistent and loyal clientele. I do not want to lose their business.’
She sat up straighter. He was giving them a chance to prove themselves! ‘Would now be a bad time for me to tell you what I see as the motel’s strengths?’
Finally he smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, but at the moment she would take whatever she could get.
‘No.’
He’d said no! She was getting better at these negotiation techniques.
‘Now would be a very good time to tell me what you see as the motel’s strengths. We can compare notes and see if we’re on the same page.’
It suddenly occurred to her that Xavier’s negotiating techniques were far, far stronger than her own.
* * *
An hour later, Xavier sat back and studied Wynne. He had a razor-sharp mind and comprehensive business acumen, and he hadn’t slowed down to let her catch up. But, while she might lack a university business degree, he hadn’t needed to. She’d kept up with him effortlessly. She was wasted here.
In the interests of both cost and efficiency, Xavier had been all set to standardise the décor, basically making all the rooms carbon copies of each other. She’d argued—gently—against that. Apart from its laudable hospitality, Aggie’s Retreat’s biggest draw-card was its eccentricity. The personalisation that was evident in the hospitality extended to each guest was also reflected in the individuality of the rooms.
According to Wynne, her regular guests had favourite rooms that were given to them whenever possible. She’d argued that it created a sense of ownership, of investment...a sense of truly feeling that this was a home away from home. She’d illustrated her argument with guest testimonials and reviews.
It might not be the way a Ramos luxury hotel was run, but the demographic at Aggie’s Retreat was very different from what he was used to—and he was starting to see that Wynne’s guests truly wanted different things from what his signature hotels offered.
He found that difference invigorating.
‘So let me see if I have this right.’ Wynne punched keys on her laptop. ‘You don’t have any...appreciation for this twee Victorian manor house décor, do you?’
‘I do not.’
Her lips twitched and, as ever, her mirth proved contagious—though he tried to keep his answering amusement under wraps. She’d told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything romantic with him. He would keep his distance.
‘But you don’t dislike the idea of making over the motel in a Spanish theme?’
‘I do like that idea.’ It seemed somehow symmetrical.
‘Then let me wow you with this splendidness.’
She turned her computer towards him—and she did wow him.
He pulled the laptop closer to flick through the files she’d created. ‘How did you pull all of this together in so short a time?’
Colour bloomed high on her cheeks. ‘Oh, I...’ Her gaze slid away. ‘I thought I’d work on it a little in the evenings and I...’
She trailed off with a shrug. Was she sleeping as badly as he was?
‘I guess I got carried away.’
He glanced from the files back to her. ‘This has to have taken longer than the odd hour here and there.’
She’d created exact replicas of the motel rooms using a computer-assisted drawing program, but rather than copying their current English Victorian incarnations she’d decorated them in a Spanish-Moorish style.
There were rounded arches in place of squared fretwork. Arabic calligraphy and decorative tiles abounded. The themes and colours changed from room to room. In one room there was a decorative sofa with ornate carvings and inlays, in another a Persian rug in hues of blue and cream. Cedar chests, high-backed chairs with ebony-coloured inlays, beds hung with rich brocade, tapestries on the walls, tooled leather, silver braziers—the rooms had been created in such fine detail he could almost smell them!
>
‘Wynne, this is extraordinary. You have a remarkable eye.’
She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, still not looking at him. ‘You have to understand that for many years now I’ve played with different ideas for redecorating the motel. It’s been a bit of a...hobby.’
Suddenly he understood. ‘But this, perhaps, has made you feel you are not being quite true to your grandmother?’
Her head shot back. ‘Absolutely not! You don’t know how wrong you are.’
He didn’t think he was wrong. There was something about her manner that didn’t ring true...something altogether out of character with her usual openness. He didn’t pursue it. She was entitled to her secrets.
‘So, given this hobby of yours, when you found out the prospective new owner was Spanish...?’
She stared doggedly at the computer screen. ‘There didn’t seem to be any harm in playing with some ideas.’
‘No harm whatsoever. I like these ideas a great deal. Can we get costings for the work as soon as possible?’
‘Absolutely!’ She started to push her chair back. ‘Would you like me to get on to it now?’
‘No.’ He might have given up on the idea of creating something splendidly luxurious, and transforming the motel in homage to Lorenzo was long overdue, but there was one more matter they needed to discuss. ‘I want to talk to you about your staffing arrangements here. I’ve read over all the files.’
The colour drained from her face. Her stricken expression knifed through him. She obviously thought him completely without a heart.
He watched her master her dread...or at least the appearance of it. In its place she donned an expression of careful interest and an attitude of deference that set his teeth on edge. He steepled his fingers and counselled himself not to snap at her.
‘You currently employ Libby, along with two other part-time housemaids and two part-time gardeners from a local shelter.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You feel that their slower efficiency rates are worth the public service you are providing to the wider community?’
‘We receive government subsidies for hiring from the shelter, so there are sound business reasons underpinning that decision. I mean, we can’t afford to carry staff who don’t pull their weight—this is a business, after all.’
The Spanish Tycoon's Takeover Page 11