The Billionaire’s Bidding

But Ryan and Gunter were both major shareholders in Garrison Hotels. And they were both convinced that Alex’s reputation as a hard-ass was hurting business. They even thought some recent, decisive takeover bids had harmed employee morale and impacted on convention business.

As a result, they were forcing him to behave like a boy scout in public. He wasn’t allowed to argue, wasn’t even allowed to scowl. Soon they’d have him kissing babies and helping little old ladies across the street.

“Why don’t you marry her?” he asked Ryan.

“Because I’m not the one with the image problem,” Ryan countered. “Besides, I’m not the CEO, and I’m not the public face of Garrison Hotels. Profits were up fifteen percent for the quarter.”

Alex glanced at his watch. “That could’ve been anything.” He wasn’t ready to accept that the kinder, gentler Alex was responsible for such an enormous turnaround.

“So what are the details?” asked Ryan.

Alex looked up. “Huh?”

“What’s left to sort out with Katie.”

“Nothing. It’s not Katie. It’s Emma now. And she’s still making up her mind.” Alex couldn’t believe he’d proposed to two different women in the space of forty-eight hours.

Ryan cocked his head. “I thought you proposed to the pretty one.”

“The pretty one said no. So I proposed to Emma instead. She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“I guess not,” Ryan scoffed.

Alex’s spine stiffened. Sure, Emma wasn’t a knockout like Katie, but there was no need to get insulting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s tough and scary.”

Alex stood up. “Wimp.”

Emma wasn’t tough and scary. She was frustrated and panicking. Which worked in his favor, actually.

Ryan stood with him. “One sister or the other. You make this work or bail on the project.”

Bail on the project? Alex didn’t think so. McKinley had prime beachfront property on Kayven Island. Prime beachfront property whose value was about to go through the roof when the cruise ship facility was finally announced.

He might have to sweeten the deal or find another vulnerability to exploit. But he wasn’t walking away from this one.

“What are we going to do?” Katie’s face was pale as she leaned across the table at the Chateau Moulin restaurant off the lobby of the McKinley Inn Fifth Avenue. The flickering hurricane lamp emphasized her worry, reflecting in a window that was blackened by the park beyond.

“I don’t know,” Emma answered honestly with a shake of her head. “I’ll have to call the bank in the morning.”

“And tell them what?” Katie’s voice rose to high C, matching the note of a grand piano tinkling in the corner.

“We’ll restructure the mortgages, maybe use the Martha’s Vineyard property as extra collateral.”

“You know that won’t work.”

Emma didn’t answer, because Katie was right. Equity in the Martha’s Vineyards property wouldn’t make a dent in the amount their father owed.

Things had been tough for McKinley the past few years. Bookings were down, costs up. Their father was always reluctant to let staff go. And they were locked into major renovations on three ski resort properties, while snow conditions had remained poor two winters in a row.

They were over a barrel, and Alex Garrison knew it. The man might be amoral, but he wasn’t stupid.

“I’m going to have to marry him,” said Katie, raising her palms in a gesture of defeat.

“And what about David?”

“I’ll explain it to him somehow.”

Emma took a drink from her martini glass, mimicking her sister’s voice. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But I’m going to have to marry another man for his money.”

“I won’t say it like that.”

“There’s no way to say it and make it sound good.”

“Well, are you going to marry him?”

Emma didn’t answer as the waitress set salads in front of them.

“At least I don’t have a boyfriend,” she hissed, after the waitress left.

Katie straightened, looking tragically hopeful. “Is that a yes?”

“No, it’s not a yes.” Then Emma paused, desperately trying to gather her thoughts. “We can’t…” She clenched her jaw. “It’s not right…It galls me to even think about giving in to that man.”

“At least we’d keep half the company.”

Fair point. Emma took another sip of her drink. If Alex got the bank to call in the loan instead, they’d be lucky to keep one hotel.

If only they had more time. If only they knew someone who could underwrite them quickly and extensively. If only their father’s heart hadn’t given out.

The three of them were a team. They’d weathered storms before, and she was sure they could have found a way out of this maze.

“Emma?” Katie prompted.

Emma picked up her fork and stabbed into the shrimp salad. “We’ll need to talk to Legal.”

Katie’s blue eyes dimmed in the lamplight. “To declare bankruptcy.”

Emma drew a bracing breath. No. They weren’t declaring bankruptcy. Not when they had a slightly more palatable choice.

They were going to throw their lot in with Alex Garrison. If they didn’t, they’d be out on the street, and he’d be undermining their father’s life’s work by this time tomorrow.

At least with Alex there was a chance. If they had a few good years, maybe they could buy him out.

And it wasn’t like Emma had a boyfriend waiting anywhere in the wings. Nor was she likely to have one in the foreseeable future. Plain-looking, plainspoken hotel executives who traveled half the year weren’t exactly hot prospects on dating dot com.

Truth was, a marriage on paper wouldn’t be that big of an inconvenience for her. A justice of the peace, a couple of publicity snapshots, and they’d barely have to see each other again.

She looked Katie straight in the eyes, not giving herself time to rethink the decision. “We have to talk to Legal so we can make sure Alex can’t do something crazy with our inns.”

Katie’s eyes went wide. “You’re going to do it?”

Emma dropped her fork and drained her glass. “I’m going to do it.”

Two

Mrs. Nash had been calling Alex Alex his entire life. But since he’d moved out of his penthouse and back into the family’s Long Island mansion six months ago-another of Ryan’s brilliant plans to improve his image-she’d taken to calling him Mr. Garrison. Every time she did it, Alex glanced around for his father.

The old man might have been dead for three years, but he still had the power to make Alex jump. It was bad enough that Alex had taken over his father’s study, he didn’t need to take on his name as well.

“Call me Alex,” he grumbled, glancing up from the financial section.

Mrs. Nash squared her shoulders in the doorway. “Mr. Garrison.” Her faint British accent grew more pronounced when she was annoyed. “A Ms. McKinley has arrived to see you.”

Alex flipped his newspaper down at the fold, his senses coming on alert. “Which one?”

Mrs. Nash’s formidable brow went up. “Ms. Emma McKinley, sir.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying annoy me.”