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“Well,” he says. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.”
I lean against the table. “I just wanted to thank you for trusting Exciteur with this project,” I say. The next words are rehearsed. “I’m not sure if you remember what happened in the lobby of your hotel, almost a year ago, but if you do, I can assure you that you’ll get nothing but professionalism from me going forward.”
One of Isaac’s eyebrows rises. “You planned this speech ahead of time?”
The questionalmostthrows me off my game. I give him my most corporate of smiles. “I did. This project is important to me, as is doing a good job. Is there a chance we could forget about what happened?”
“There is.” He looks down at the papers I’m carrying, the folder with the Exciteur logo on it. And then he says the next few sentences matter-of-factly, like we’re still discussing his company. “We delayed your husband’s check-out process by forty-five minutes. From the curses he aimed at my staff, I believe we ensured he missed an important business meeting.”
I blink at him. “Oh.”
“We threatened to sue him for civil indecency too, for leaving his hotel room naked,” Isaac says. Face still serious, eyes unreadable on mine, but with the same quirk to his eyebrow. “He’s not welcome back as a guest. Ever.”
It takes me a moment to find the words. My hand tightens around the hem of my blazer. “Thank you. He’d have seen that as a pretty heavy blow.”
“Well, I don’t take kindly to people exposing themselves in my hotel hallways.”
I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. “No, of course not. That makes sense.”
“So you divorced him.”
Isaac’s words aren’t a question, but I nod anyway. My left hand curves into a fist. The absence of my rings has finally started to feel normal. Freeing, even. “Yes.”
Isaac uncrosses his arms. His face looks settled, as if something that previously bothered him had been resolved. “This can be our first meeting, if you’d like. What happened in the lobby won’t affect our working relationship.”
Working relationship.Familiar words. They lead me back to safe ground and my professional smile stretches back into place. “Thank you, Mr. Winter. I appreciate that a great deal.”
He extends a hand, and this time, the shake lasts longer. Dark brown eyes lock on mine.
“I’m looking forward to working with you… Miss Bishop.”
3
ISAAC
The Exciteur team comes back three days later.
Judging by the emails my own team is getting, and the few ones that get filtered through to me, they’re on top of things. Asking for preferred color palettes and budgeting guidelines and endless lists of follow-ups.
She’s thorough,I think. And then I have to correct myself.They’re thorough.
Sophia is head of a team. A team my brother helped me hire through Victor St. Clair, and a team I have significant expectations from.
I get into the elevator from my apartment on the twentieth floor. Not thatmineis the right word, exactly. It’s the Winter apartment, built into the hotel itself, and each generation has used it. My brother and I spent a lot of time there as kids.
Not that my parents ever actually lived there. They’d preferred the townhouse, with my father coming in to the hotel every day. And then every other day.
And then every third…
The lack of oversight had made its mark on the place when I finally took the reins.
The elevator moves too slowly. I look in the gilded mirror and see the familiar face staring back at me. Gray suit, dark hair, the same set jaw as my father. My brother had inherited it too, and damn if it didn’t make all of us look like surly bastards.
What came first, the look or the attitude?
I run a hand down my face. I’d shaved, and perhaps that makes me look somewhat younger, but there’s no denying the man staring back at me isn’t twenty-five anymore, and he’s not thirty, either. It’s not something I’ve thought about in a long time. Hadn’t cared.
I shake off the thought and step out of the elevator.
