Page 9 of The CEO Enemy

I’m over the moon, and the idea of attending alone doesn’t bother me in the slightest. “Norman. You shouldn’t have?—”

“Think of it as an investment in the right art piece for the lobby… and a small gesture to mend any lingering grievances between us. So you keep me in good memories.”

My shoulders drop. “Well, I suppose that’s a pretty clever move,” I tease.

He brings me into a fatherly hug. While Norman’s news has thrown me for a loop, it’s hard to stay mad at him, and I’m determined to look on the bright side.

Change is good.

It’s a normal part of life.

Change shouldn’t be feared.

Maybe the new owner won’t be so bad. At least it won’t be me training a newbie with zero experience. I’ll be working with a peer who understands. Perhaps he can offer valuable insights. Maybe I can learn a thing or two from Mr. Billionaire Mogul.

These positive thoughts get me through the rest of the day and help me look forward to our meeting.

Everything is going to turn out perfectly fine.

4

SEAN

Done and done.

Deal closed. Papers have been signed.

The meeting with Norman Whitman went off without a hitch.

I’m on a roll.

The board has been on my ass about closing the deal, and I’ll be glad when they can focus on other matters. Securing the other half of the Westerlyn Hotels is our top priority, and I have full confidence that we’ll achieve it. However, my father, Douglas Blackwood, the board’s head, isn’t exactly known for his patience. My relationship with him is strained at best. He’s always been more of a boss than a father, even before I started working alongside him.

Right on time, I stride into the headquarters of Blackwood Holdings Inc., a towering high-tech construction of gleaming steel and tinted glass. With our many hotel and resort properties spread across the East Coast, we set up shop in New York City because it made sense. Our first hotel was in the city. Understanding the power of NYC connections is fundamental in my line of work. Our company is proud to be located in one of the city’s leading high-rises, with the executive offices on top.

When I walk into my office on the polished granite floor, my personal assistant, Jasmine Williams, smiles up at me. She’s in her late fifties, always impeccably dressed, and her black hair is neatly tied up in a tight bun. Sometimes she acts more like a mother than an assistant, fussing over me and making sure I actually take my breaks and have something for lunch. But I let her get away with it because she’s a good worker.

“Good morning, Mr. Blackwood,” she says. “There are several messages in your inbox. The paperwork for the Westerlyn Hotels has been filed with Legal, and everything is set for the transition to Blackwood. Oh, and your meeting with the board is in one hour.”

“Good. Anything else I need to know?”

“Mr. O’Malley is back from his business trip.”

“Let him know I’m in. Otherwise, hold my calls.”

“You got it.”

I go into my office and close the door behind me. Outside, the sun is bright, and my view of the city stretches for miles with the cloudless sky. I ignore it, more interested in the steaming coffee cup on my desk. Some of the black liquid is downed in one gulp. I settle in my chair and pull over my work tablet to review some documents. These are the same papers I meticulously reviewed before signing off on the Westerlyn Hotels acquisition, but now, with the ink dry and the deal sealed, I revisit some of the financial reports and the property’s history.

Tomorrow, I’m headed to the hotel to meet the co-owner. While I’ve found that ninety-nine percent of partners who initially refuse to sell change their minds once they glimpse those zeros on the check, there’s no harm in fine-tuning my pitch and preparing for the next phase.

About half an hour later, my office phone rings. “What?”

My assistant’s voice comes through. “Mr. O’Malley is here.”

“Let him in.”

“Of course, sir.”

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