Chapter 2 HIS FIRST UNANSWERED CALL

Isabelle Rowan started her morning-8:15 sharp-with enough money in a new contract to cover the last three months and then some. Chloe, her assistant, handed over coffee like she'd just found out the office was saved.

"Tell me that's the Ashford contract," Chloe said.

"It is."

"How much?"

Isabelle turned her screen, and Chloe nearly spilled half the caffeine.

"That's enough to keep us alive for half a year," Chloe said.

"Unless he changes his mind tomorrow," Isabelle replied.

"Why would he? He called you himself."

"Yeah, after I told him his whole reopening plan was rubbish."

Chloe, not missing a beat, slid a chair next to Isabelle.

"Maybe he likes women who disagree with him."

Isabelle shot her a look. "He's a billionaire. He probably likes people who agree with him. I doubt he even remembers what disagreement sounds like."

She scrolled. Generous fee, decent timeline, expenses covered. Not bad-except for one clause.

All final creative decisions remain subject to the approval of the executive director.

Isabelle sighed, leaned back, dialed Daniel Price.

"Morning, Daniel. Isabelle Rowan."

"Morning, Miss Rowan. Have you had time to review the contract?"

"I have. There's a problem."

"What is it?"

"Clause fourteen. It lets Mr. Ashford overrule everything creative I do."

He hesitated. "That's standard company policy."

"Your company needs a better policy."

"I'll discuss it with legal."

"Do that. I also want my agency named as creative lead, and I want confirmation my team answers directly to me."

"I'll pass those requests along."

"Thanks."

She hung up, looked at Chloe. "Let's see if the billionaire can handle having his contract corrected."

Meanwhile, at Ashford Grand Seaside, Nathaniel was already working when Daniel came in with a tablet.

"Miss Rowan's reviewed the contract," Daniel said.

"And?"

"She's got objections."

Nathaniel kept signing documents. "Of course."

"She wants creative independence, direct authority, and recognition as creative lead."

Nathaniel looked up. "Anything else?"

"She wants clause fourteen gone."

"That clause exists for a reason."

"She says it makes the contract pointless."

Nathaniel put down his pen. "She's getting paid to manage an event, not run my hotel."

"She knows the difference-she just wants authority to match her responsibility."

Nathaniel stared. Seven years Daniel had worked for him and rarely voiced opinions. Now he did and it was annoying.

"Send her the revised agreement when legal's finished."

"Yes, sir."

"Daniel-make sure she knows the hotel has standards."

"I think she gets that, sir."

Nathaniel checked the clock. He had zero intention of calling Isabelle again. Or so he told himself.

By 11:30, Isabelle had the revised contract. Clause fourteen was fixed. Her agency was credited. Authority? Front and center. A few things left to haggle over, but it was vastly better.

She signed, and almost instantly, her phone rang.

"Miss Rowan," Daniel said, "Mr. Ashford wants you at the hotel tomorrow at ten for the first project meeting."

"Tomorrow?"

"Ten o'clock."

"I can make that."

"Excellent. I'll send the details."

Before hanging up, Isabelle paused.

"Daniel?"

"Yes?"

"Does Mr. Ashford always use other people to talk for him?"

A beat. "Not always."

"Interesting."

She grinned as she ended the call.

Next morning, she got to the hotel early. The lobby was pure luxury-marble floors, ocean views, a chandelier screaming, 'Money!' Staff moved quietly. Designers debated near the entrance.

She headed to reception. "Morning. Here to see Mr. Ashford."

The receptionist checked. "Miss Rowan? He's waiting. Private elevator to executive floor."

Isabelle followed directions, laptop and folder in hand.

Daniel met her as the elevator doors opened.

"Morning. Welcome back."

"Thanks. Hope everyone's ready for me."

Daniel smiled. "Some are still recovering from your last visit."

"Maybe they needed stronger coffee," she said.

He laughed and led her in.

Nathaniel stood at the windows, black suit and a phone pressed to his ear. He looked like he'd been up since dawn.

He glanced over. "Miss Rowan."

"Mr. Ashford."

He hung up. "You're punctual."

"I try not to disappoint people before they pay me."

He eyed her folder. "New proposal?"

"A realistic one."

"That's comforting."

"It should be."

She set up her laptop and started her pitch. Twenty minutes-the reopening would ditch the exclusive investor party and kick off with a community preview, food events, live performances, private celebrations. Nathaniel listened in silence.

At the end, he studied her slides.

"You want to invite local businesses onto my property?"

"Yes."

"Some compete with our restaurants."

"Some offer what your restaurants don't."

"We've got a reputation to protect."

"And a reputation to rebuild."

He raised his eyes. Isabelle met the look head-on.

Nathaniel came over, scanned the budget. "You want more funding."

"I want the experience we're selling to matter."

"And if the event flops?"

"Then blame me for what I control, not the choices you refuse to make."

He held her gaze.

"You've always got an answer."

"Only when someone asks."

He almost smiled. Almost.

"Fine. Proceed. I'll review the final budget this afternoon."

She closed her laptop. "Great. I'll need staff schedules and supplier contracts."

"Daniel will handle it."

"And I need to talk to the head chef."

"Why?"

"Because he's feeding your guests. I'd rather not design a food festival without talking to the chef."

Nathaniel nodded. "Arrange it."

She gathered her stuff. "Thanks."

At the door, he stopped her.

"Miss Rowan."

She turned. "Yes?"

"Try not to challenge every decision I make."

She smiled. "Try not to make every decision worth challenging."

Daniel hid a grin. Nathaniel just watched as she left.

That night, Isabelle was in her apartment kitchen, cooking dinner, when her phone rang.

Nathaniel Ashford.

She stared at the screen. Nine o'clock. She thought about answering but then decided-she was at home, not in his conference room, and the guy could turn anything into a negotiation.

Her phone stopped. Seconds later, he messaged.

We need to discuss supplier arrangements. Call me.

Isabelle sighed, finished prepping food, and wrote back.

I'll review the documents first thing tomorrow. We can talk during working hours.

Three minutes passed. Another message.

It will take five minutes.

She smiled.

Then it can wait until tomorrow.

Across town, Nathaniel stared at his phone. Not being answered burned a little. He honestly couldn't recall the last time someone just ignored his call, especially without an excuse.

Daniel came in, saw his face. "Problem, sir?"

Nathaniel locked his phone. "No."

Daniel glanced, saw the name, looked away. "Miss Rowan?"

Nathaniel fixed him with a look. "Get back to work, Daniel."

"Of course."

But after Daniel left, Nathaniel looked at the unanswered conversation again. He couldn't shake it-the woman who challenged him in front of twenty-three executives was becoming impossible to ignore.

And tomorrow, he was determined to figure out why.