Page 14 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

My lips tip up, but I quickly force them down. “You do?”

“Yes, Lance.”

I have no idea how he knows that, but I keep our conversation moving. “Anyway, they’re raising his rent so high he can’t afford it. He’ll be closing his doors if he can’t find investors to pay out the remainder of his lease and invest in a new location.”

He doesn’t say anything and we sit in silence for at least five minutes. This is how he works. “Remind me why this is my concern…”

“Because it’s a great restaurant. A staple of New York and—”

“You have a vested interest because you’ve been going there for so long that you now have a personal relationship with the owner. How many times have I told you that you can’t mix personal feelings with business? I can’t just go in there and buy The Orchid.” He puts his forearms on the desk.

“I’m not suggesting you buy The Orchid. I’m suggesting we invest in Nico’s.”

“And mix business affairs with the Asburys? I like the fact we have nothing to do with one another. They’re slimy people, Lance.”

I nod before he has time to finish. “Exactly. Maybe we move him into one of our hotels. Or a Nico’s On-the-Go with a smaller menu.”

He sighs. “I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t see where this benefits Whitmore Hotels. We make our money on the rooms. The restaurants are mere perks.”

“Perks that can make someone choose our hotel or condo building over another.”

“I’m sorry, Grandson, restaurants are a dime a dozen and they’re a hard industry to make money in. The profit margins are razor thin. Restaurants thrive or die in this city every year. I understand that you like this Nico guy and you’ve always been empathetic to other people’s problems, but this isn’t your problem and I’m not going to put money into something that’s already failing.”

“But—”

“The answer is no, Lance, and that’s final.” He presses the button on his desk phone.

“Good morning, Mr. Whitmore. What can I do for you?” Estelle, his secretary, answers.

“Good, you’re here. I’d like my coffee now.”

“I’ll be right in.”

I stand from the chair and put out my hand to shake my grandfather’s. “Thanks for your time.”

“Don’t be angry.”

“I’m not.” I am.

When I decided to take the role in my family’s company that my dad was supposed to take thirty years ago, I never thought it would be this frustrating to implement my ideas. But I see why my dad didn’t want to work for his father. It’s his way or no way.

“But I do have my own money to invest—” He opens his mouth, but I continue. “There’s no stipulation on my trust fund. I can spend it the way I want.”

“You’re going to lose it if you invest in that restaurant. That’s a promise.” The bite in his tone doesn’t surprise me because he wants control of everything and everyone around him. It’s like he can’t help himself.

“It’s mine to lose. Thank you again, Grandfather.”

I walk across his office and open the door to Estelle, carrying a silver tray. I shake my head at how old school everything is around here. They’re the ones who won’t survive the new century if they continue to run this company as if it’s the 1950s.

After going to the café on the bottom floor of our building, I sit in my office all morning, contemplating investing in Nico’s myself. I go into my portfolio, then look up the statistics on restaurants in New York City. I weigh the pros and cons. The cons win, which means I’d usually decline the offer to invest, but for some reason, I can’t. Something about Nico’s story won’t let me go. I’m not positive, but I think it has something to do with his family recipes and my big family in Alaska.

“Fuck it.” I slide out of my chair and grab my coat and messenger bag.

I’ve definitely done a lot of stupid things this week. At least investing in Nico’s won’t rip out my heart, like knowing Kenzie is marrying Asbury the Ass will.

“I’ll call you,” I tell Josh, my assistant, and press the button on the elevator.

“Have a good day, Mr. Whitmore.”

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