Good Girl Complex(Avalon Bay #1)(48)

Her derisive sniff reveals exactly how she feels about all this. “This town will never be like Miami. It has too much charm,” I assure her.

“The developers don’t care about charm. They only see dollar signs.” Lydia picks up her teacup. “My only terms are that whoever buys my hotel has to preserve the intent. Maintain the character. I want to move closer to my grandkids, spend whatever time I have left with my family.” She sighs. “But I simply can’t bear to leave without knowing The Beacon is well cared for.”

“I can make you that promise,” I say honestly. “It’s the charm of the place that made me fall in love with it. I can commit to restoring everything as close to original as possible. Update the wiring and plumbing. Reinforce the bones. Make sure it survives another fifty years.”

Lydia examines me, as if gauging whether to take me seriously or write me off as a silly college girl who’s wasting her time.

Several seconds tick by before she gives a slow nod. “Well, then, young lady, write down a number.”

A number? I know nothing about the hotel real estate market, so I’m completely flying by the seat of my pants as I type a figure into the Notes app on my phone. It’s my best estimation of how much a property like this might cost, but also not enough to clean out my entire business account.

I slide the phone over. Lydia studies the screen, one eyebrow jerking up as if she’s surprised I have real money to offer.

For the next ten minutes, we go back and forth. It takes some haggling on my part. And I might have been suckered into overpaying by pictures of her grandkids, but eventually we come to a deal.

Just like that, I’m about to be the proud owner of my very own boardwalk hotel.

I feel high after closing my first successful business deal, giddy excitement coursing through my veins. Such a rush. At the same time, it’s insane. I’m twenty years old and I just bought a hotel. Despite how crazy it sounds, it feels so right. My mind immediately races with next steps. In an instant I see my future, my empire growing. I promised my parents I would focus on school, and I still plan to—I’ll just be focusing on my new role as hotel owner at the same time. I can juggle both.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Even after Lydia and I shake on it and I call my lawyer to start the paperwork, it doesn’t feel real until I coax Preston to see the property the next day.

Rather than share in my excitement, however, he sticks a knife straight through my enthusiasm.

“What’s this?” He scowls at the gutted hotel with its crumbling walls and water-damaged furnishings spilling out.

“My new hotel.”

Eyes narrowed, Preston slants his head at me. As if to say, Explain yourself.

“I know it isn’t much now. You have to imagine it after a complete renovation.” I almost cringe at the note of desperation I hear in my voice. “I’m going to restore it entirely. Totally vintage. Postwar luxury all the way. Turn this place into a five-star resort.”

“You’re not serious.” His expression falls flat. Mouth presses into a hard line. Not exactly the reception I’d hoped for.

“Okay, I get that I don’t know anything about owning a hotel, but I’ll learn. I didn’t know anything about building a website or running a business either. But that didn’t stop me before, right? Maybe I’ll change majors to hospitality or something.”

He doesn’t answer.

Each second of silence slowly sucks away more of my joy.

“Preston. What’s wrong?” I ask weakly.

He shakes his head, tosses up his hands. “I’m really at a loss here, Mackenzie. This has got to be the most irresponsible, immature thing you’ve ever done.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He sounds like my dad, which I don’t appreciate in the least. Granted, I didn’t put a lot of thought into this venture before pulling the trigger—I tend to act more on gut instinct. Still, I thought he’d be a little happy for me.

“I’m very disappointed in you, frankly. I thought after our talk—after your little mistake—we were on the same page. About the plan. Our future.”

“Preston, that’s not fair.” Throwing the kiss back in my face is a low blow. One has nothing to do with the other.

He ignores me, finishing with, “That plan doesn’t include a hotel.” His lips twist into a disapproving frown.

“You don’t see the potential here? At all?” I ask unhappily.

“Potential? Look at this place. It’s a dump. A teardown at best. Maybe you can get something out of the land, but a renovation? You’re out of your mind. You don’t know the first thing about any of this. Did you even think for two seconds before leveraging your trust fund for this stupid distraction?”

Indignation shoots through me. “I’m more capable than you think. And I didn’t use my trust fund. I have the cash on hand, if you must know.”

“How?” he demands.

I jut my chin. “From my websites.”

Pres looks startled. “Your silly little tech thing?”

Now I’m pissed. I can feel the heat pouring out of my face as my nails dig into my palms. “Yes, my silly little tech thing,” I echo bitterly.

I’ve never elaborated on how much money my sites have generated, and he has never seemed particularly interested beyond poking fun at them. I thought it was a guy thing. Harmless teasing. Sometimes he’d come over when I was working on BoyfriendFails and tell me how cute I looked with my face all furrowed in concentration. He’d grin and call me his “sexy tycoon.” I thought he was proud of me, proud of all the work I was putting into the venture.