Before he could continue, she cut in. ‘You should know something first. I’m not backing down. The hotel stays.’
‘The hotel will be demolished.’
‘It won’t.’
They locked eyes.
A waitress appeared silently with a teapot and cups. Oliver didn’t drink tea. Lucy poured.
‘There you go,’ she said pleasantly.
He eyed the cup. She nodded encouragingly. It seemed he was expected to drink. He took a cautious sip and regretted it instantly. Smoke and bitterness flooded his mouth. He forced it down.
She didn’t touch hers.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘you were saying?’
He unrolled his plans across the table and weighted them with a stone.
‘I’ve made adjustments,’ he said. ‘To accommodate the — ’ He paused, then forced the word. ‘Community.’
One eyebrow flicked upward.
‘This entire section here,’ he continued, pointing, ‘will be opened into a shared space. With garden access. Free use. Free rent.’
She leaned in and studied the plans.
‘The darkest part of the building,’ she said quietly. ‘Right beside the service alley.’
‘It’s quiet.’
‘And boxed in.’ Her finger traced the solid wall separating the space from the rest of the hotel. ‘No access to anything else. No bar. No facilities.’
‘It’s still a major concession.’
‘It’s a sop.’
He straightened. ‘It’s generous.’
‘It’s segregation.’
He stood. ‘You’re deliberately misreading this.’
‘No. I’m reading it exactly as it is. You take our heritage, replace it with your palace and throw us a windowless room near the bins.’
Silence stretched between them, heavy as the humid air.
‘I came here as a courtesy,’ he said at last. ‘But I don’t need your approval. I’ll take this straight to the village.’
‘Do,’ she said. ‘You won’t get far.’
‘I always get far,’ he said. ‘I always win.’
Her smile faltered — just a fraction. Only someone looking closely would have seen it. He did.
He rolled up the plans. ‘Thanks for the tea.’
‘You enjoyed it?’
