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He nods. “We’ll move ahead today.”

The meeting breaks up around me. Laptops close, papers are gathered, and chairs scrape across the floor. Within a few minutes, Tom and I are the only ones left.

“You know she won, right?”

I look at him.

“The lane,” Tom says. “Rachel won.”

“Thank you, Tom. I’d somehow missed that.”

He grins and walks out. I study the original design one last time, then return to my office.

Rachel won, and I expected that to annoy me more than it does. Instead, I understand why she refused to share the service lane. She carries the Hartwell the same way I carry Voss. Every decision bears her family’s name, and every mistake matters more because someone trusted her with everything they built. If our positions were reversed, I’d tell her no too.

By the time I sit behind my desk, my mind has returned to the green room—to Rachel’s hand against my face and the look in her eyes before she kissed me. What happened between us felt like far more than a kiss. That’s the part I can’t stop thinking about.

Most people are careful when they disagree with me. Rachel isn’t. She says exactly what she thinks, and my name and money don’t impress her. Until yesterday, I thought she was stubborn because she enjoyed the fight. Now I know she’s protecting the hotel and the people who depend on her. I respect that.

Now I keep wondering whether I moved too fast, whether I read her right, and whether she regretted it the moment she walked away. I don’t usually rethink a kiss this many times. I certainly don’t worry about whether I handled it well. The fact that I care this much is unsettling.

I pick up my phone and open her contact. A joke feels too careless after what she told me. An invitation to my bed would only prove every bad thing she already thinks about me. I set the phone down again.

I want to get this right. That scares me more than I’d like to admit.

Before I can think about it any longer, my office phone rings.

“Eric Voss.”

“It’s Chicago,” my assistant says. “Things just got worse.”

14

RACHEL

By Thursday afternoon, Eric has left me alone for three days. No emails. No gifts. No ridiculous notes. It’s exactly what I wanted, yet I’ve checked my phone far more often than I’m willing to admit.

I tell myself it’s only habit. Eric spent all of last week finding new ways to get in my way, so of course I notice when he suddenly stops. It’s the change that feels strange. Nothing more.

An email from the Planning Department arrives while I’m in my office. I open the attached plans and find a new design for the ground floor of the Voss hotel.

Their service lane now runs along the edge of their own property, right beside ours. Every mention of using the Hartwell’s lane is gone.

They don’t need us anymore.

Oh.

That’s why he went quiet. I was right about him from the start. He flirted with me because he wanted access to our lane. Now that he knows he can’t have it, I’m no longer useful.

My chest tightens as I stare at the screen. I should be pleased that he had to change his hotel. Instead, I think about the green room. For a few minutes, I thought we understood each other. Then he touched me, and I let myself believe his interest was real.

I’m an idiot. Eric wanted something from me, so he tried money, charm, and finally himself. When none of it worked, he moved on. The worst part is that I let myself believe he wanted more.

A knock sounds at my door before I can sink any deeper into that thought. Mia steps inside carrying a cream envelope sealed in gold.

“This came for you.” She sets it on my desk. “I thought you weren’t going this year.”

The envelope is from the Alton Hills Hospitality Awards. I’ve attended almost every year since I started working at the Hartwell, always with Granddad and Grandma. This would be the first one without him.