Owen’s jaw clenched tightly, a heavy barrel of conflicting emotions tearing through his chest. Linda was like a little sister to him, his best friend on this island, and his primary instinct was to protect her from any corporate scheme the Wayne Group might be running.
He felt a sharp, painful pull in his heart as his gaze shifted back to Isabel's profile through the glass doors. He desperately hoped that Linda already knew the truth about their family name, because if she didn't, it meant Isabel was actively keeping a massive deception alive. And if she was lying to Linda, where did that leave his own growing friendship with her? How could he trust the warmth in her eyes if her presence on the island was built on a corporate lie?
They stepped through the rear doors into the hotel foyer, about to cross the tiled floor toward the conference room entrance, when Owen gently caught her sleeve and pulled her aside near the wide front windows.
"Linda, I have to speak to you privately before we go in there with the rest of the crew," Owen said, his expression completely grave.
“Are you worried about my relationship with Darius?” Linda stopped, turning to face him with a soft sigh. "Owen, you are so sweet for looking out for me like this, but I promise you?—"
Her words were cut off cleanly when noticed he was no longer looking at her. She followed Owen's gaze which drifted past her shoulder toward the exterior driveway. Her head turned to see two figures had just cleared the parking lot, walking with a confident, familiar stride toward the main entrance of the hotel. Owen froze, the blood turning to ice in his veins as his eyeslocked onto the sharp, clinical features of the woman leading the way.
"Of all the nerve," Owen hissed, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides as his dark eyes flashed with a dangerous light.
ISABEL
Noticing that Linda and Owen weren't in the conference room where the college students were finishing up the snack tables, Isabel turned back toward the main corridor to go find them. She stepped out onto the polished tile floor of the lobby and stopped short when she saw Owen pull Linda into a secluded corner near the heavy front doors.
Her heart did a strange, sudden thump against her ribs, a wave of heat spreading through her chest that she couldn't quite understand. She stood frozen for a split second, her breath catching in her throat as she watched the tight, urgent way Owen held Linda’s sleeve. Then her practical logic returned, pushing the confusing emotion aside. She reminded herself of how close they were. They were old colleagues and best friends who had worked together in the field for years. It made perfect sense that Owen would want to speak to Linda privately about the latest developments with the pool excavation before the rest of the volunteer crew assembled. They were both dedicated archaeologists, after all, dealing with a great historic discovery on the property.
She was about to turn around and leave them to their private conversation when she noticed Owen's entire posture completely freeze. His jaw set into a rigid line as his eyes locked onto something beyond the open front door.
Isabel followed his gaze and felt her stomach drop. Walking across the parking lot toward the hotel entrance was the sharp, clinical woman she recognized from the diner, and right behind her, carrying a leather briefcase, was Baxter.
"What the heck!" Isabel hissed under her breath.
Her fingers fumbled frantically inside her pocket as a rush of adrenaline made her palms turn slick. With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone and scrambled to hit her brother's number.
Darius answered on the second ring, his tone sharp. "Isabel? Is everything okay?"
"I'm not sure," Isabel said softly into the receiver, stepping back behind a large indoor palm planter to stay out of sight. She watched in absolute horror as the two figures reached the shaded porch. “Hold on.”
Before she could explain any further, the two people step inside the cool foyer. A thick wave of heavy perfume cut through the cool air conditioning of the lobby. Owen still had Linda cornered near the window, his eyes blazing with a rigid anger as he stared down the pair who had just invaded the foyer.
The woman stopped in the center of the rug, her hands flying to her chest as her eyes misted over instantly. "Owen, darling," she gushed, her voice carrying an intense, dramatic pitch that echoed off the high ceiling. "You're actually here." She breathed out the words like a tragic actress staging a grand reveal.
Isabel pressed the phone tighter to her ear, watching from behind the green fronds as she silently criticized the sheer theatricality of the performance, though she quickly admonished herself for being uncharacteristically catty.
"What are you doing here?" Owen asked. His voice was deathly cold, his posture straight as stone. His tone was flat, utterly devoid of any normal human warmth, but his eyes blazed and looked like two chips of sharp glass.
"I've been looking for you for so long," the woman purred, her bottom lip beginning to quiver in a practiced routine as her eyes grew mistier by the second, looking as though she was about to burst into tears right there on the tile.
Isabel had to stop herself from rolling her eyes and scoffing aloud. Judging by the tight, disgusted line of Linda’s jaw, she was just as disgusted and sickened by the newcomer’s feigned dramatic shock. If anything, Isabel was willing to bet her corporate salary that this woman knew exactly where Owen was located before she ever set foot on the island. As she watched the woman step closer to him, a sharp emotion sliced straight through Isabel’s stomach, a dark wave of heat that felt a lot like jealousy.
The realization stunned her, making her chest tighten.
Jealousy? No, that can't be right,she told herself, her fingers gripping her phone tighter. She was a widow who had spent years guarding her heart against any kind of romantic clutter. She had no business feeling possessive over a quiet archaeologist she had only known for a few weeks.
She was yanked from her internal dialogue when Owen spoke again, his voice cutting through the silent foyer like a knife.
"I asked you a question," Owen repeated, his tone completely unyielding. "What are you doing here?"
"Can't you even manage to give me a proper hello after all this time?" the woman whined, her voice quivering perfectly along with her lower lip.
It took every single ounce of Isabel’s self-control not to step out from behind the planter and clap her hands together, shouting bravo at the performance. If Penny were standing beside her she would’ve done it.
Isabel shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.Stop it, Isabel,she told herself silently.What on earth has gotten into you? You are not this kind of person.
"Isabel?" Darius's voice rattled loudly through the phone receiver against her ear, his tone rising in panic. She had almost forgotten she was still holding him on an active line. "Speak to me. What is going on in that lobby?"
