Chapter 11

Chandler

I never counted pennies.Making seven figures a year afforded me the freedom to do and get whatever I wanted without having to ever check the price. I did, however, check my monthly expenses—personally and professionally—on the last day of the month. My accountant would put together a spreadsheet so I could see where my money was going.

When I told Cheyanne to book her favorite hotel, I should have known her bougie ass was about to be on some shit, because she sent me the link for approval instead of just booking it like she usually did. I was getting more and more curious about her and her bloodline these days. It was getting harder to respect her desire for secrecy.

The penthouse she stayed in was twelve-thousand dollars a month. They required three times the rent a month in wages, and I didn't pay her that much. Hearing that her grandfather didn't just pay the rent but had bought the unit let me know he was either a multi-millionaire or billionaire. If that was the case, it should have been easier to do research to find out who he was since he lived in our city, but I was trying to wait for her to share that information with me.

It wasn't going to change anything between us or the way I viewed her. More than anything, I was curious about who he was and what he did and if he was someone I could possibly connect with or learn from.

I smiled at the thought of our conversation last night. When she sent me the link for the executive room at the Four Seasons at Ten Trinity Square, it amused me. I called her immediately.

"Yes, Mr. Jones?"

"What you send me that room for? You know I only do suites."

"Well, yes, but the smallest suite starts at two thousand a night. I wasn't sure if you wanted to spend that for the rest of the week plus my room."

"I know you're not trying to insult me, so I'm going to overlook your lapse in memory. What suite do you stay in when you go, Cheyanne?"

She sighed into the receiver. "I don't stay in a suite; I stay in a residence, but Papa pays for it."

"Hmm," I replied, lips stretching into a smile. For some reason, the distinct difference impressed me. And hearing that her grandfather opted for a grander stay than a suite made me want to one up him. I wanted to show her that I could not only take care of her as well as him but better. "Send me the full hotel link. And don't hang up."

"All right," she agreed. The line remained silent for no more than a minute before I received the text with the link.

"Which one do you usually stay in?" I asked, looking over the suites and residences.

"The one-bedroom residence." It was a little over four thousand dollars a night. "But you really don't have to get that for me, Mr. Jones. I wasn't trying to suggest you couldn't afford it, just that you've never spent that much on my sleeping arrangements when we travel."

I scrolled down, not even bothering to look at the other options or reply to what she'd said. When I got to the last two, which were the most expensive, I looked at the names and prices. The second biggest was the Royal Residence. At just over four thousand square feet, it was sixteen thousand dollars a night. The biggest was the Skyline Penthouse. It was just over nine thousand feet and had four bedrooms plus a gym and theater. The price wasn't on the website, and you had to call to book it, so I figured it was forty to fifty thousand a night.

"The Skyline Penthouse is appealing to me because of the gym and theater, but I like the way the Royal Residence looks. The floor-to-ceiling windows and large terrace with views of the city are breathtaking. Which one do you think we should get?"

"U-uh," she stuttered before coughing, making me hold back my laugh. "E-either sounds fine, Chandler. It just depends on what you think you'll get the most enjoyment out of—the view or the gym and theater."

I was going to get the most enjoyment out of finally impressing this woman, and there was no doubt in my mind this was the way to do it. Money might not have impressed her, but doing something better than her grandfather would.

"Let's go with the Skyline Penthouse. Go ahead and call them and book it for the rest of the week."

"O-okay. I'll uh… forward the confirmation email to you when it's done."

"Do that." I agreed before disconnecting the call.

She had me fucked up, thinking only her beloved Papa could spoil her.

Now I could only chuckle and shake my head as we headed to the hotel from the airport. Booking the most expensive penthouse at the hotel came with several perks, and a limousine service from the airport plus a chauffeured Rolls Royce for the length of our stay was two of them. We would also have meals prepared by a private chef, in-room spa services, and a private, personalized wine tasting. And you'd better damn well believe we were going to take full advantage of all of it.

When we arrived at the hotel, I could practically feel the excitement radiating from her. Still, I wanted to hear her actually say it, so I asked, "Are you excited to be here?"

"Yes!" She squealed, skipping toward the hotel. "Not just the city but this hotel. I love experiences, and this will be one. I know it."

"I'm glad you do. I meant it when I said we're taking advantage of everything this place has to offer."

Though she laughed, I was dead serious. After we were checked in, we were led to the penthouse. It was massive. The two-story space had a small boardroom and office when you first went in. We went room by room, checking everything out—the kitchen, library, sitting room, theater, gym. I was glad I chose this one because it had a private terrace and garden as well.

"All right, you know the drill," I told her as we made it to the master bedroom with the super king bed.

"Oh no. Absolutely not. I'm not taking this room, Chandler. The rest of the rooms have regular king beds. I'll be more than okay in one of those."

"Cheyanne…"

"As much as you paid for this, no."

"Money is a resource to me, and I use it to get what I want. What I want is for you to enjoy yourself, be comfortable, and take this room."

Her head shook as she looked around the large room. "Nope. This is one time I'm putting my foot down. You have this room. I really want you to."

I didn't have much time to go back and forth with her about it, so I agreed. I was anxious to meet with Jacobs, and we were set to meet in three hours.

"Fine."

"Are you going to try and take a nap before the meeting?"

"Just an hour. Please don't let me oversleep."

"I got you."

I didn't doubt that, because she always did.

Three Hours Later

"Wow,"I muttered at the sight of Cheyanne. She might not have liked fancy dinners at Michelin restaurants, but damn if she didn't look gorgeous going to them. The white minidress she had on showed off every one of her curves. Most often, she dressed in black, white, or cream, and I think my favorite shade against her cinnamon-hued skin was white. Her hair was pulled up into an updo with two spirally curls hanging in the front and back of her head.

"Is this too much?" she asked, nude heels stabbing the floor as she walked over to me. "I know this is a business meeting, but the vibe seems super chill and artsy, based on my research."

"Damn, Chy." I had to pull my hands behind me to keep from touching her. "You look phenomenal. If London have you popping out like this, I need to bring you here all the time."

She giggled as she told me, "Let's go, sir. You look great, by the way."

I was on the same wave as her—trying to keep it professional but not looking too out of place. My white button-down shirt had the first few buttons open with no tie. I wore white slacks with a brown belt and loafers with my customary gold jewelry.

By the time we made it down, the driver was already waiting for us. It didn't take us long to get to sketch, which I appreciated. I was more nervous than I wanted to admit. This deal meant a lot to me, and I was hoping Jacobs wouldn't renege. I realized I wasn't hiding my nervousness as well as I thought I was when we pulled up to the restaurant and Cheyanne rested her hand on my shaking leg.

"You got this, and I got you," she said. The words were simple in form, but they were exactly what I needed to calm down.

It felt like a gross misrepresentation to say sketch was unlike any other restaurant I'd ever been to. It was, in fact, artsy and chill. Each room had a different vibe and color scheme. We ended up meeting Jacobs and his team in The Gallery, which was an all-yellow room with different color accents.

He spent the bulk of the meeting eating and drinking on my dime, which I was used to. Some people would try and draw negotiations out to get as much out of me as they could. Both Cheyanne and I tried to continuously steer him back to the reason for our presence to begin with. Jacobs seemed to soften with Cheyanne, which I understood, since she was a woman. I didn't think he expected her to be as vocal this time around, but he entertained her and eventually found himself talking business with her too.

She pulled me back into the conversation, and I was able to reassure him that allowing me to buy his LLC and every umbrella company underneath was a good idea. By the time we left, he promised me that he'd give me his final answer within forty-eight hours. I accepted that and hoped he wouldn't take that full amount of time.

By the time the meeting was over, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. I was hoping Cheyanne didn't want to see the city tonight. Thankfully, she was just as tired as me. We ended up going back to the hotel, and as soon as I undressed and got into bed, I went straight to sleep.