Chapter 3 NINETY DAYS WITH THE DEVIL

By ten o'clock, Isabelle Rowan already knew working for Nathaniel Ashford would test her patience more than running her own business ever did.

Not because he was impossible to understand-though he was, honestly-but because he seemed convinced that every issue could be fixed just by issuing an order and expecting the universe to snap to attention.

Too bad for Nathaniel, she wasn't the universe.

She stood in the middle of the Ashford Grand's main reception hall, folder clutched to her chest, as two managers bickered over a decorative fountain's position.

"Mr. Ashford approved the original arrangement," one insisted.

"And I've approved a better one," Isabelle said, voice steady. "The fountain blocks the entrance. Guests shouldn't have to dodge a marble obstacle just to check in."

The older man frowned. "You've been here less than twenty-four hours."

"And I've already found the problem."

A soft cough sounded behind her.

She turned. Nathaniel stood there, suit sharp and tailored to remind everyone he could buy the building if he felt like it. His gaze flicked from the fountain to the managers.

"Is there a problem?"

"No problem," Isabelle said. "Just a small discussion. I prefer guests to feel welcome, not annoyed."

One manager stared at the floor.

Nathaniel's face gave little away. "What do you recommend?"

"Move the fountain to the east courtyard. Make it a highlight out there, not a barrier in here."

"Do it."

The older manager started to protest. "But, sir-"

"Miss Rowan is in charge of the reopening. Take any professional objections to her. Otherwise, follow her orders."

She watched the two men retreat, then looked back at Nathaniel.

"That was almost supportive."

"Don't sound so shocked."

"I didn't think you had that setting."

His mouth tightened. If she had to guess, he was fighting off a smile.

"Are you done with the reception?"

"Not even close. I've barely started."

"Then stop arguing and show me your plan."

"Your staff aren't the problem, Mr. Ashford. The problem is everyone keeps waiting for your approval when they're perfectly capable of making good decisions."

He studied her for a moment. "That another critique of my management?"

"Consider it a bonus in the contract."

He eyed her folder. "You're comfortable telling me how to run things."

"I'm comfortable doing the job you hired me for."

"Even if it means telling me I'm wrong?"

"Especially then."

For a beat, neither of them moved. The hotel seemed to hush around them, everyone suddenly aware their boss was standing a bit too close to the woman who'd just challenged him in front of his staff.

Finally, Nathaniel stepped aside.

"Show me."

She opened the folder and led him to the reception desk. She explained her reimagined guest journey-the welcome details, the new registration flow, the little touches she was introducing throughout the building. She had photos, sketches, supplier quotes, and a detailed schedule for the entire opening weekend.

Nathaniel didn't interrupt once. That, more than anything, threw her off balance.

When she finished, he looked at the last page. "You want local businesses involved, no vendor fees?"

"Yes. They'll get exposure, and we'll pay them for anything they sell. I want the hotel woven into the community, not just stuck beside it."

"That makes the logistics tricky."

"Good planning usually is."

"Your budget needs tweaking."

"I did that. There's a second version."

He raised an eyebrow.

She handed it over.

He scanned the numbers, pausing at the final figures. "You cut the entertainment budget by nearly twenty percent."

"A big-name entertainer doesn't make the night memorable. The right atmosphere, good people, and a genuine welcome do."

"And the board?"

"They can explain why they bothered hiring me."

He looked up.

She held his stare. She wasn't about to soften it, just because he signed her checks.

After a long moment, he closed the folder.

"Go ahead."

She almost smiled. "Easier than I thought."

"Don't expect it next time."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He made for the corridor, then paused.

"One more thing."

He turned.

"I want a meeting with all department heads tomorrow. Not just the seniors. Housekeeping, kitchen, maintenance, front desk, security. Everyone who'll actually keep this opening running."

"That'll take time."

"Then we'll find the time."

Nathaniel looked at her like he was deciding whether she was pushing him on purpose.

"Arrange it with Daniel."

"Thank you."

"Miss Rowan?"

"Yes?"

"You're not here to change everything."

"No," she said. "I'm here to give people a reason to come back."

Something flickered in his expression-too fast to catch.

"Let's see if you can."

By lunch, Isabelle had met six department heads, approved three new suppliers, and learned that the kitchen manager protected his equipment like it was family.

She was reviewing a catering proposal when Daniel appeared.

"Miss Rowan, Mr. Ashford wants to see you in his office."

"Does he realize I'm working?"

Daniel gave a polite smile. "I think I see why he finds you interesting."

She looked up, surprised. "Interesting?"

"Professionally."

"Of course."

His expression said he was very entertained.

She grabbed her notes and followed him up.

Nathaniel stood behind his desk, already on the phone. He raised a finger for her to wait, then wrapped up the call.

"I've looked over your staffing plan."

"And?"

"I have some questions."

"Good thing this is a meeting."

He leaned against his desk. "You want temporary authority over multiple departments during the opening."

"I need enough authority to run the event. I'm not after a permanent title."

"Some department heads report to me."

"And that won't change. But for reopening decisions, I need them to talk to me instead of waiting three days for your agreement."

He crossed his arms. "You really don't make small requests."

"I tried that yesterday. You shot them down."

His mouth twitched. "You're determined to remind me."

"Until you stop giving me reasons."

He glanced at the paperwork again.

"Fine. You'll get direct access on anything tied to the event. Permanent staff changes, big spending, or policy still goes upstairs for approval."

"That's actually fair."

"Did we just agree on something?"

"Don't get too excited. Lightning probably won't strike twice."

He laughed.

It was brief and real-nothing like that tight-lipped look he usually wore. Isabelle forgot what she'd planned to say.

Nathaniel seemed almost surprised, too.

Then his phone buzzed, snapping them back. The spell broke.

"Daniel will send the new authority memo."

"Good. I guess we're done."

"Not quite."

She stopped at the door.

"There's a dinner for the investors Friday. I want you there."

"Why?"

"You're in charge of the reopening."

"Send me the agenda, then."

His eyes narrowed. "You don't go to social events?"

"I go to work events that matter to my work."

"This one's both."

"I'll let you know after I see the schedule."

He shook his head, amused. "You're impossible."

"And you keep hiring me."

That night, Isabelle got home exhausted but satisfied.

The hotel was already shifting. She had a pile of problems, but for the first time, she could see the event taking shape.

She tossed her bag on the sofa, opened her laptop.

A new message from Chloe: Did the billionaire behave today?

Isabelle grinned and replied: He signed off on my plan after grilling it for half an hour.

Chloe answered right away: So, just another Tuesday.

Isabelle laughed and closed her laptop.

The phone rang.

Nathaniel.

She stared at his name, hesitated, picked up.

"Mr. Ashford?"

"Isabelle."

She straightened a little. First time he'd used her first name without an edge.

"Something wrong?"

"No. I want to know if you've seen the revised supplier list."

"I already sent my notes to Daniel before I left."

"I haven't gotten them."

"Then ask Daniel."

A pause.

"You won't talk about it now?"

"No. I'm off the clock."

"That's not really an answer."

"It's the only answer you're getting. Work's over."

He went quiet. She could imagine his face.

"You're strict about boundaries."

"I learned to be. People like you assume everyone else's time is yours."

"People like me?"

"People with assistants who smooth everything over."

He laughed, soft and short. "Goodnight, Isabelle."

"Goodnight, Nathaniel."

She hung up before he could turn a simple call into another meeting.

Across the city, Nathaniel stared at his phone.

He'd worked with people who scrambled to answer before he finished speaking. Everyone anticipated his next command; plenty treated his attention as a gift.

Isabelle Rowan told him to talk to his assistant and went back to her evening.

He should've found it annoying.

Instead, he was smiling.

And that? That felt like a problem.