“I’m staring at them as we speak.” He paused, crossed his fingers and hoped Luc didn’t require any additional information. He’d just as soon not explain tricky details like how the deal liaison on the Tradewinds acquisition turned out to be the runaway assistant manager from Las Ventanas.
Luc cursed. The single word conveyed his frustration at being pulled into the situation. “You bought this hornet’s nest when you bought Las Ventanas.”
“Yes.”
“At last we agree on one thing. You realize she will likely sue us for wrongful termination?”
“We agree on two things,” Rafe replied. “But she’ll lose. The emails speak for themselves. Buy her cooperation with a severance package if you need to, but make sure she agrees to refrain from contacting the former assistant manager again.”
Luc sighed. “Send me the emails, and the termination paperwork. I will do this for you. Once.”
“Thank you.” Hopefully the words rang sincere, because much as he hated asking his father for assistance, he was thankful.
“You’re welcome. Unlike Barrington, I can be useful. Please advise Miss Wayne so she can concentrate on finalizing our deal.”
So much for keeping the tricky details to himself. No matter. As long as Cindy left Las Ventanas today with a security escort by her side and her personal effects in a box, mission accomplished.
His father might not admire the timing, but he’d supported Rafe’s decision, and that felt strangely like a triumph.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The brush of a cool palm against her cheek pulled Chelsea the rest of the way out of the comfortable fog she’d been lingering in, just between asleep and awake. She blinked Rafe’s face into focus, and dealt with the reckless acceleration in her pulse. A wave of thick, dark hair fell over his forehead. Stubble shadowed his jaw. The corner of his mouth tilted up, but the result couldn’t be classified as a smile thanks to the furrow between his brows.
She pushed herself into a sitting position and realized she felt a little better. He was to thank, but what came out of her mouth instead, was, “You didn’t have to stay.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I got you sick.”
She steeled herself against his touch, because her heart wanted to read too much into the offhand gesture. “I assumed the risk when I pushed my way into your villa.”
“About that?
?”
Last night sat well down on the list of topics she wished to rehash. “Did you get my message about the easement?”
He eyed her for a moment, but went along with her change of topic. “I caught the resolved part, but not the details. Did they go for a payoff?”
“They weren’t interested in money at all. They’re all about the land.”
One black brow arched. “They want some other piece of the property? St. Sebastian won’t agree to that.”
“No, no. They only care about their piece. The MILC representatives simply hope to preserve a slice of old Hawaii. They don’t want the trail paved over or, like you said, turned into a super-highway. They’d like the passage maintained exactly as it is now. They believe the land, preserved in a natural state, serves as a living memorial to their ancestors, who carved the trail hundreds of years ago.”
“That’s it? Keep the path as it is?”
“I may have committed you to one tiny additional thing.”
“Describe tiny.”
“The MILC representatives weren’t very reassured by the idea of a signed piece of paper outlining everyone’s good intentions. They said a piece of paper ends up in a drawer gathering dust. People forget. I couldn’t argue, considering the Templetons basically forgot about the conveyance restriction they signed. I suggested we install a plaque at the entrance to the trail, to honor the original islanders who forged the path, and their descendants, who graciously share it with visitors.”
She thought he’d be ecstatic, but he stared at her for so long she thought perhaps she’d made the stupidest move since leaving a Santa costume in Paul’s office. Finally, he said, “A plaque for the easement?”
For God’s sake, she’d saved the deal, not to mention his shot at taking over the St. Sebastian empire. Didn’t that merit at least a smile? “Tradewinds will fund the design and installation. St. Sebastian will have to absorb the cost of future maintenance, which should be minimal. Is that a problem?”
A sweep of his hand brushed the comment aside, and she remembered the feel of that hand sweeping over her bare skin. “No. You found a win for everyone. How can I show my appreciation?”
He didn’t appear appreciative, sitting there watching her like a hawk staring down a field mouse.