"The presentation's not until tomorrow," she protested. "And I'm busy."
"You need the distraction."
"I thought that was what you've been doing," she said, looking me up and down.
"Oh, there will be plenty of that. I promise you," I said, snaking my arms around her.
57
Hazel
Iwas glad that I could spend the day before the big Art Zurich announcement with Archer. He was a good distraction in more ways than one.
"Do you mind stopping at my office?" he asked as we pulled out of the parking deck. "I need to meet with Mike."
Archer pulled up in front of a huge glass-and-steel tower. I gawked at it as Archer handed the valet the keys to his sports car.
"Big, isn't it? Also"—he pointed to the sign—"it has my name on it!"
"Actually," Greg said, coming up behind us, "it hasmyname on it."
He walked with us to the elevators. Archer pushed the button for the sixtieth floor and the one for the ninety-second.
"I talked to Hunter," Greg began, "about your situation."
"Not now," Archer said tersely.
"Fine, but there's a portfolio of foreclosed properties one of my bank contacts says is coming up in Harrogate. I'm going to buy the properties. I might consider allowing you to put a small percentage of your hotels in them.Might consider."
Leaving Greg, we stepped off the elevator on the sixtieth floor and walked into the Greyson Hotel Group office.
"This your first time here?" Mike asked me, standing up to shake my hand. Eli and Tristan were at their desks, poring over spreadsheets and data sets.
"Yes. It's a nice office, but I expected a lot more, I don't know, designy stuff."
"It's all in the next room," he said, ushering me into a bright room with material samples and vision boards laid out.
"This is all for a new hotel going up in Brooklyn," Archer explained. "We have to compete with Airbnb. Everyone wants an authentic experience. This hotel has mainly suites with kitchens and living areas. We're targeting families and people in the city on extended stays." He handed me a board with color samples. "Olivia said you're good with colors and design."
"I'm not an interior designer," I said, looking at the swatches. "I just help her out with her projects."
"Maybe you could help me with my projects," Archer offered.
"What, like move to Manhattan with you?" I laughed. "I spent the critical years of my life slaving away in Manhattan."
"Oh," he said under his breath. "Well, that answers that."
I didn't know what Archer was implying. Did he want me to work for him? Or did he want me to be the fun, quirky artist who he went back to when he was bored? It was one thing to hang with him in Harrogate, but in Manhattan, he was in his element, not mine.
* * *
After leaving Archer's office,we drove to his condo. When we pulled into the garage, Archer double-parked, straddling two spaces. "I don't want anyone scratching my car."
"Aren't the other tenants going to be mad?" I asked. "The HOA could fine you."
Archer snorted. "The only people who live here are my brothers. This was the first building Svensson Investment developed. The building isn't that big. There are maybe thirty units, one on each floor, like they have in Brazil."
"It's nice that your family is so close," I said.
