“Dollars?” Ellie nearly choked. That amount covered all her father’s debts and back-taxes, putting the hotel in the clear. But it wouldn’t include the renovations necessary to bring to hotel back to half of its former glory. “You really think the liquor and wine is worth that much?”
“Collectors can be rabid when it comes to their obsession. The stash could go for even more.”
She took a sip of her rum, this one more palatable than the first, and wondered, “Carter, how did you know the secret room was there?”
“I went down to the basement earlier to inspect the pipes and boilers. At one point I was following this series of pipes along the ceiling when I noticed one pipe separated from the others and disappeared overhead. I didn’t remember a room there. Curious, I dug a space around the pipe since the wood was damp and rotting. I reached up until I hit polished wood floorboards. I figured there had to be a room there.”
She strove for a nonchalant tone. “You were in the basement?”
“I poked around for a few hours early this morning, checking the boiler pressure, the condition of the pipes, looking for any leakage.” He frowned.
Seeing his look of concern, Ellie’s throat tightened. The last time she went down to the basement was with the town’s plumber who’d shared unfortunate news. Tree roots had penetrated the plumbing system. An entire section of piping had to be ripped out and replaced with PVC pipes before a buyer would even take a second glance.
The pipes hadn’t been replaced. There was no money. And as of now, there was no buyer.
Unless she convinced Carter that their booze-stocked secret room made it worth buying and renovating the hotel—basement to attic—no one else would see their fun discovery before the structure was condemned. Except Arnoff Applestone.
She cleared her throat. “I had someone take a look at the plumbing. Everything is supposed to be okay,” she lied.
Carter set his glass down. “Ellie, everything’s not okay.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She took a deep swig of her drink.
“The pipes I followed to that old room were slick, dripping with condensation. It’s the end of November, and while this has been a warmer season for South Carolina, pipes don’t do that in winter.”
“How do you know?” she asked into her glass, downing another gulp.
“Growing up with a single mom, I handled a lot of things most kids that have dads don’t deal with. That includes fixing things that are broken.”
Carter always had a knack for fixing the irreparable. Had she been the broken thing he’d tried to fix? Was she just another one of his projects?
When they first met he’d rescued her. In some ways she was still adrift—in need of his rescue now more than ever. A thought stabbed at her mind. Had he seen this as an opportunity to play hero? To manipulate her emotions until she was desperate, begging, while he dangled his millions in front of her face?
Emotions riled, she plunked down her glass. “I’m not as broken as I seem, Carter. I’m not desperate for your money. I don’t need saving.”
He said evenly, “Don’t you?”
She met his steady gaze. “You’re here to prove I do.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
The smoky look in his eyes spoke of seduction, and he answered softly, “You.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks. “You’re just like the other investor. Here with an agenda.” She downed her drink and scooted her stool back. “While I have to stand by and accept it.”
Grabbing her elbow, he demanded, “What other investor?”
She glared at him. “Arnoff Applestone.”
“The casino owner from Atlanta?” He looked appalled.
“What does it matter? You’re acting just like him, a rich guy who thinks he’s superior to everybody else and can buy people like commodities. Forget it, Carter. You can go sell that crap somewhere else.”
Wrenching from his grasp, she stormed away.
“Ellie.”
He called her twice more. She ignored him all three times. She wasn’t like the women who worked for him—or any of his women, for that matter—a slave to his commands.
Steaming mad, she went to her room, threw on a pair of Nike’s, and struck out toward the beach. She needed to walk, to cool her temper. To figure out how far she was willing to go to save her hotel.
Only this time, she had to make up her mind. Tomorrow was Wednesday. By Friday, she’d know her fate.
Even if she sold the 1920’s bootlegged treasure, she severely doubted it would go for the value Carter claimed. Still, there was only one way to find out. She retrieved her cell phone, praying it got reception.