“In the next hundred years?” She pressed her hands to her temples. “I have an opening in two weeks. We need to at least have the kitchen in some sort of safe, working order. The rest we can do in phases.”
“If they agree to take on the job, they would do the urgent items right away. If they agree to take it on,” he underscored. “Because of De Campo’s relationship with them, I think we have some leverage. They’ve offered to come look at the hotel next week.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “If you like, I will stay and do the walk-through with you.”
Her lips formed the words yes, please. She needed his contact because no one else was calling her back. She was terrified Le Belle Bleu wasn’t going to open on time. But she was also clear on why Matteo was doing this. The closer he inserted himself into Luxe’s operations, the harder it would be for her not to choose De Campo.
It was also so not her style to accept help and Lord knew, the Quinn of last night was a terrifying, alien creature not helped by Matteo’s continued presence on this island. However, the panic raking its way up her throat was all-consuming. The hotel was a disaster.
“They will not screw you over, Quinn.” Matteo gave her an even look. “I know these guys. If anyone can fix this, they can.”
“All right.” She nodded. “But you need to understand, this will in no way help you in the bid process.”
He nodded and stood abruptly, his expression hardening into one that was all business. “Let me see if I can get them before dinner.”
Matteo strode off in the direction of his suite. Quinn wondered why her heart was now somewhere in the vicinity of her toes.
He was going to help her, wasn’t he? Help her drag Le Belle Bleu out of the mess it was in before her hotel chain’s reputation went into the toilet? This was no time to pine for him to acknowledge how amazing their night together had been.
Her grip around her wineglass tightened. Oh, my God. That’s exactly what she’d wanted him to do. She’d been expecting him to rehash last night, when all he’d wanted to do was help her relaunch her hotel, and, in doing so, ingratiate himself even more to Davis Investments.
Where in all this had she become that creature?
And if a man was crazy to walk away from her, then how had he just done it so easily?
Quinn, the queen of business, the queen of logic, suddenly had to swallow a very bitter pill. Last night might have been explosive. A once-in-a-lifetime chemistry. But she wasn’t worth a ten-million-dollar deal.
It was that simple.
She stood up with a squeal of her chair that made the couple at the next table stare. It’s not as if she should be surprised. When it came to Quinn Davis, there was always a reason to leave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THINGS ALWAYS GOT worse before they got better.
Wasn’t that the saying?
Matteo sat at the lobby bar of Le Belle Bleu knocking back a local beer as the last of the contractors beat a hasty retreat before Quinn could catch them and ask for just one more thing to be done. They were wary of her perfectionism, working like dogs to get the last cosmetic fixes done to the restaurant and bar before the hotel was unveiled to everyone who mattered in five days. But at some point they had to sleep. Not that Quinn seemed to have noticed. Or needed to herself...
When the scale of the work to be done had become clear, he’d offered to stay and help manage the contractors. Quinn couldn’t do it all on her own and his familiarity with the contractors went a long way. He had to be back in New York right after the reopening for a board meeting and then in Chicago for the pitch, but at least he could help her get the doors open. Make the hotel shine for its debut.
He’d worked side by side, day and night with her and François to get the menus fixed and the human machinery of the bar and restaurant functioning as a five-star hotel should. Now it was just a question of execution. Could the chefs perfect the dishes? Could the bartenders master the complex cocktail list they’d created? Could the staff come together like the well-oiled machine they needed to be to impress a crowd that would be discerning to a fault?
He reached up and massaged the back of his neck. He was beat. Exhausted. But it was worth it. Daniel Williams had boarded a flight back to the outback looking utterly disgruntled at leaving the competition behind. Quinn was relying more on Matteo every day. It was exactly where he wanted to be. But funnily enough, this hadn’t been all about his endgame. Quinn was struggling. She’d taken on a task no human being could do by themselves and refused to admit she was in over her head. She’d plowed ahead against the odds with a mind so patently brilliant he could see why she’d gotten where she had at such a young age.