The Rivals - Vi Keeland Page 0,14

Sundeck. It’s an exact replica of The Imperial Salon but also with a private rooftop sundeck.”

“I didn’t realize there was a rooftop sundeck.”

He shook his head. “There isn’t. That’s part of the problem. Construction is barely even started up there, or in the new main ballroom space. And the weddings we booked two years ago are approaching pretty fast. The clients booked expecting to have an outdoor cocktail hour or service. We have the first one coming up in only three months. As you can imagine, the hotel serves some very influential families. The first event is for the niece of the mayor.”

My eyes widened. Shit.

Things continued to go downhill from there. While from a visitor’s perspective, the grand hotel appeared in tiptop shape, it had a laundry list of major issues that had been building over a long period of time. And now those issues were my issues. Over the next three-and-a-half hours, Louis unloaded problem after problem. We had so much to discuss that I had to reschedule the other appointments I’d made with senior managers this morning. By the time we finished our meeting, my head was spinning.

I stood at the door of the conference room. “Thank you so much for filling me in on everything today.”

He smiled. “I guess it’s a good thing there are two of you. There’s a lot of work to do.”

Weston Lockwood was the last thing on my mind, and Louis saw the confusion on my face.

“I was referring to Mr. Lockwood,” he said, “meaning it must be nice to have someone in the trenches with you to handle all of this.”

I smiled rather than tell him getting the Sterlings and Lockwoods to agree on anything might be the top problem for this hotel.

“Yes.” I feigned the best smile I could muster. “It’s nice to have someone I can count on.” To disappear, like he did today.

“Let me know however I can help.”

“Thank you, Louis.”

After he left the conference room, I slouched in a chair, trying to organize my thoughts. I’d believed I was coming to New York to babysit a hotel while my family worked on buying out the minority owner. Apparently, I had my work cut out for me. While I sat feeling a bit shell-shocked, my cell started to buzz on the table.

I picked it up and sighed audibly.

There was only one man I wanted to avoid discussing everything I’d just learned with more than Weston Lockwood. So naturally, he had to call at this very moment. Taking a deep breath, I figured it was best to get the tirade over with. So I swiped to answer.

“Hi, Dad…”

Chapter 4

* * *

Sophia

“How the hell did this happen?”

My father started barking before we sat down at our table. He’d hung up on me five minutes after he’d called earlier today—the moment I’d mentioned a looming strike. I hadn’t even had a chance to tell him about the rest of the issues. A half hour after he’d slammed the phone down in my ear, his secretary emailed to tell me my father would land at seven and dinner would be at Prime, one of the restaurants in The Countess. She didn’t ask if I was available, rather she’d told me where we would be eating.

Not to mention, it had also been the first I’d heard that my father was even planning on coming to town tonight. And I definitely had no idea my half-brother, Spencer, would be accompanying him. Though in hindsight, I should have suspected as much on both counts.

“Well,” I said. “Ms. Copeland was sick, and she let some things slide, thinking she would take care of them when she felt better. She obviously never had that opportunity.”

The waiter came over to take our drink order. My father didn’t give the poor man an opportunity to finish asking what we wanted before he rudely cut him off and barked “Scotch on the rocks—Glenlivet XXV Single Malt.”

Because alcohol had to cost more than five-hundred dollars a bottle for him to find it worthy of consumption.

My puppet of a half-brother raised his hand. “Make that two.”

No please.

No thank you.

And clearly neither of them had ever heard of ladies first.

I attempted to make up for their rudeness when it was my turn to order. “May I please have a glass of merlot? Whatever you have open is fine.” I smiled. “Thank you very much.”

If my father noticed my over-the-top abundance of manners, he didn’t seem to care.

“Spencer can handle the union,” he said.