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“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.
