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“Oh, this is interesting. The three of them went to boarding school. Eric studied business, spent two years working in London, and speaks fluent French. Daniel is the CFO, and Tom is the COO⁠—”

“Why are you reading me his résumé?”

“Do you have any idea how useful this could be? I’ve been trying to sign one of the Voss brothers for years, and now you’ve met Eric.”

“Met is generous. I got his hotel project delayed and refused to share my service lane with him.”

“That still counts as a connection.”

I push some rice around my plate. “None of them will want anything to do with you once they learn your best friend is trying to stop their hotel.”

For the first time since she started searching, Chloe’s keyboard goes quiet.

“I won’t lead with that,” she says.

“I wouldn’t.” I take the chance to change the subject. “How many weddings do you have this weekend?”

“Two.” Her laptop closes. “Both on Saturday. I’ll have three hours to change dresses and convince myself that champagne counts as dinner.”

Chloe loves her clients’ weddings. Each invitation proves she got another match right. She attends so many that she has a whole section of her closet for wedding guest dresses, sorted by season and dress code.

Most of her clients are busy people who know what they want. They pay Chloe to skip the bad dates and find someone who wants the same kind of life. She asks about marriage, children, money, and where they want to live before she puts two people in the same room. Judging by all those weddings, she’s very good at it.

Chloe and I are both thirty-five and single, though she’d never put us in the same category. According to her, she’s single because she has high standards. I’m single because she hasn’t found the right man for me yet. But with the men I meet, staying single usually feels like the better choice.

We make plans to meet soon and end the call. After cleaning the kitchen, I carry my laptop into the living room and check my email. My inbox is full of messages that can wait until morning. I should leave them there, but I never do. The Hartwell may be eight blocks away, but I’m never completely off duty.

A new email appears at the top of the screen. The sender’s name stops me.

Eric Voss.

3

ERIC

Aservice lane barely twenty feet wide is holding up my hotel.

I study the plans on my laptop, searching for a solution I might have missed. The only other place for the service entrance would take space from the lobby, and I won’t allow that.

The lobby is perfect. I spent months working with the architects on every detail, from the height of the ceiling to the placement of the stairs. It will be the first thing guests see, and I want them to remember it. Taking space from it would upset the whole ground floor. Reception would have to move, the hallways would narrow, and every service area behind them would need to change.

It wouldn’t be one simple adjustment. The architects would have to redesign most of the site, costing us rooms, months, and millions. All because Rachel Hartwell refuses to share a lane that’s already there.

I treated access to it as certain. The old department store had used it for years, and I assumed the Hartwell would agree for the right price. That was careless. It wasn’t fatal.

I’ve spent the afternoon reading property maps, old agreements, and every record tied to the lane. Voss has no legal right to use it. The former owner’s agreement with Rachel’s grandfather ended when we bought the property.

Rachel was right and I find that deeply inconvenient.

“You invited Ava McLeod to bid for the Voss Awards?” Daniel asks, walking into my office without knocking.

I look up from the plans. He stops across from my desk, his navy tie perfectly straight against a crisp white shirt. Even this late, his dark suit is immaculate. Daniel usually looks mildly annoyed, even when he’s in a good mood. Tonight, the anger is unmistakable.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask.

It’s almost eight. Most of the staff left over two hours ago, and the top floor is quiet. Beyond the windows, red and white lights move through downtown Alton Hills.

“I had a call with the Singapore team,” Daniel says. “Afterward, I checked the list of event planners invited to bid for the Voss Awards. Her name was on it.”