Chapter 2
RAPHAEL
“The Columbus remodel is behind schedule.” Chandler stood across from my desk, tablet in hand, posture relaxed in the way only someone highly competent could afford to be.
Chandler had been my right-hand man since before I started in this business.
After graduating and settling in Ohio, I got into the real estate industry, which led me to my bread and butter.
Hotels. There was no one who did hotels and hospitality better than Chandler.
I ran the business while he made sure our hotels were top-of-the-line experiences.
“Delayed how much?” I asked.
“Two weeks if inspections stall. The historical board is nitpicking stonework.”
“They always do.”
The Columbus property would anchor our Ohio expansion once renovations were finished.
Location, structure, history; it was worth the delay, but not inefficiency.
While Chandler excelled with the glamour and extravagance of it all, I stayed tied to the bottom line, and that bottom line stayed in place with efficiency.
“Pennsylvania holdings are stable,” he continued, not even looking up from his tablet. “Pittsburgh occupancy is up. Here, Cleveland is steady. Cincinnati is slightly above projections.”
“Staffing?” I asked.
“Handled.”
Geoffrey stood near the window reviewing printed schedules, immaculate as always.
Geoffrey was the closest thing I had to family in the States.
He had worked for my family for as long as I could remember, and after I graduated from college, he joined me.
He ran almost everything from my schedule to the estate.
It was safe to say that these two men had seen me at my best and my worst and were still around. Loyalty means everything in my world.
“The new cleaning rotation arrives at eight,” Geoffrey added in his posh British accent.
I glanced at the clock.
7:48.
“Hopefully, this one will be more competent."
The previous service had been dismissed in under a month. The one before that lasted less time than that. I did not keep distractions. Efficiency required consistency. Staff who lingered, talked, hovered, or treated proximity like permission did not remain employed.
“We are working with a new company. Hopefully, you will find them more suitable,” Geoffrey said.
Chandler shot a smirk at Geoffrey.
The gate monitor chimed softly. Geoffrey glanced toward it.
“She’s arrived.”
I didn’t move at first. There was no reason to. Chandler shifted slightly, watching the screen.
A small purple van covered in stickers rolled through the gates and stopped near the side entrance. It was immediately out of place.
The driver’s door opened. She stepped out and revealed a solid stance. I like that. Her hair was pulled back neatly, even if a few brown curls escaped. Her uniform was plain and functional. She shut the van door firmly, then pressed it once more to be certain it latched.
My eyes lingered on her a bit longer. She was pleasing to look at. She had a soft, curvy body, but it looked powerful. I’d have to be careful. That kind of soft power was my kryptonite.
She adjusted her bag on her shoulder as Geoffrey stepped outside to greet her. Her expression was open and attentive. She didn’t seem intimidated by the mere scale of my house. Good.
Chandler glanced sideways at me. “That’s her?”
“Yes.”
She shifted her weight slightly while Geoffrey spoke, sunlight catching along the curve of her cheek. I forced my attention back to the reports.
“She appears efficient,” Chandler said with a smirk I didn’t care for.
That was the thing when you spend the majority of your time with the people who work for you.
While they were both more than efficient at their job, they were both a little too familiar.
And Chandler specifically tended to overstep.
It was only tolerated because, being in the hospitality business, someone had to be hospitable. He was much better at that than I was.
“That’s the requirement,” I replied.
“Of course.”
Chandler’s mouth hinted at a smile, but he said nothing. He resumed. “Atrium renderings for Columbus need final approval before eleven.”
“I’ll review them.”
Outside the office door, faint footsteps moved down the hall.
I kept my eyes on the file, having to reread the same line twice. As I read, I heard Geoffrey’s voice carry faintly down the hall.
“This wing is maintained biweekly. Mr. Renault’s office sits at the end of the hall and is restricted unless specifically requested.”
“Yes, sir,” Belle replied easily.
I rose. There was no operational need to be present during the tour. I wasn’t even sure why I was leaving my study, but even still, I stepped into the corridor.
They were halfway down the east hall when Geoffrey noticed me.
“Sir,” he said smoothly.
Belle turned. Her expression shifted to recognition, then a polite brightness.
“Good morning, sir,” she said.
“I wanted to introduce myself properly, I am Raphael Renault,” I said as I extended my hand.
“Isabelle Blythe, but everyone calls me Belle,” she said as her mouth curled into a warm smile as she took my hand.
The instant our palms met, it was as if I felt an electric current run up my arm. Interesting.
Geoffrey inclined his head slightly.
Belle glanced between us.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” I said with a curt nod.
Geoffrey resumed walking. “The east wing guest rooms are used intermittently. Linens are rotated monthly unless we have a guest arrive.”
Belle nodded, making a note of it.
“And the study?” I added.
Geoffrey paused. “Already addressed on the schedule, sir.”
“I prefer it done weekly.”
Geoffrey’s eyes flicked toward me. “Very good.”
Belle adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Weekly study. Noted.”
They moved again. I followed. Why was I following?
Geoffrey stopped outside the library. “Surfaces only. Books remain precisely as arranged.”
Belle made a note and nodded.
“Good.”
Silence stretched.
Geoffrey cleared his throat. “The upstairs hall is restricted beyond the west landing.”
“Yes,” I said.
Belle’s gaze shifted to me. “Mysterious.”
“It’s private,” I replied.
She held my eyes a fraction too long. “Understood.”
Geoffrey gestured toward the stairwell. “Shall we continue?”
“Yes,” I said.
We all continued, even though my presence was completely unnecessary. Chandler appeared at the end of the corridor, watching openly now.
“You giving tours these days?” he asked with that irritating smirk.
“I’m ensuring standards,” I said.
Belle’s mouth curved slightly. “How very hands-on of you.”
Geoffrey stopped again near the base of the stairs. “That concludes the orientation.”
It did not require my presence. And yet. “If you have questions,” I said to Belle, “you may direct them to Geoffrey.”
“Not to you?” she asked lightly with a hint of playfulness I almost wanted to engage with. Almost.
“No. I do not waste my time in the running of the estate.”
“Good to know.”
A pause.
Geoffrey looked between us. Chandler folded his arms. No one moved. I became aware that I had followed them the entire length of the corridor without a clear justification.
Belle tilted her head slightly. “Am I being evaluated,” she asked, “or escorted?”
“Evaluated,” I said.
“Ah.” She nodded once, thoughtful. “Then I’ll try to be very impressive.”
Geoffrey’s composure held. Chandler’s did not, as evidenced by his small huff of laughter. I stepped back.
“That will be all,” I said.
Geoffrey inclined his head. “Sir.”
Belle gave me a small, bright smile. “Yes, sir.”
My gaze locked onto hers. What was it about her? I didn’t seem to want to leave her orbital force. She wouldn’t last long if she continued to distract me. I turned without a word and made my way down the hallway.
I returned to my office and closed the door. That was peculiar.
Silence settled immediately as order was restored. The desk sat precisely as I had left it. Contracts still sat aligned next to the neatly stacked reports. Columbus renovation schematics waited for final approval.
I opened the file and read the first paragraph, yet didn’t absorb it. Instead, her expression replayed in my mind.
Am I being evaluated or escorted?
She was curious, not intimidated.
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
I had intended to introduce myself. That was all. It was a mere professional courtesy. Instead, I had followed them down the hall like a man uncertain of his own floor plan.
I did not do that. I did not hover. I did not insert myself into minor logistics.
And yet, the image of her shutting the van door replayed in my mind. The deliberate second push to confirm the latch. Her van looked out of place in the drive. So did she, for that matter, but she had walked in like she carried her own gravity.
I adjusted the cuff of my shirt and forced my attention back to the Columbus atrium renderings. Clean lines, glass ceiling, restored marble columns, this is where my focus should be. I belonged with predictable variables and things I could control.
That was the point. Control prevented loss. Control prevented chaos. Control ensured that nothing unexpected took root.
Yet my mind wandered to her. Her humor had not been deferential. It had been steady. She hadn’t been intimidated nor had she performed admiration.
She had simply been present.
The sound of her humming drifted faintly through the corridor. I had dismissed staff for less. In fact, Goeffrey and Chandler often joked that I fired someone for smiling. That was a stretch, but I didn’t like distractions.
Yet, for whatever reason, I didn’t seem to mind her. She wasn’t trying to be a distraction . . . she just was.
I leaned back in my chair. I knew I was being overbearing. The word surfaced without invitation. I had corrected Geoffrey mid-briefing, adjusted schedules unnecessarily, and inserted myself into a tour I did not need to oversee.
I was a Beast. The nickname had circulated in business journals first. It was simple competitor commentary and media shorthand. I had not objected. Beasts were efficient. They protected their territory. They did not hesitate. But beasts were also isolated.
I drummed my fingers once against the desk, then stilled them.
This was temporary. If I had overstepped, it could be corrected. I could reestablish distance and clarify boundaries. She was staff, nothing more.