Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Eli
My hand reaches across empty sheets. Isla is gone. Last night’s security breach and system overhaul had left us both exhausted in my penthouse. The note on her pillow is simple, direct.
Had to check the site. Early reports aren’t good. Meet you there.
-I
Relief comes first. Then something sharper. Because I’ve woken up to an empty bed before. Because Isla always runs before things get too real. This time, she left a note.
She’s waiting.
Twenty minutes later, the rising sun casts long shadows through the Artisan Hotel’s exposed steel framework as I survey the aftermath of last night’s breach. My boots crunch over scattered debris while Wade, our site supervisor, walks me through the damage report.
“Main system’s back online,” Wade says, scrolling through his tablet. “But the living wall took a hit—strategic, deliberate.”
I nod. The damage is too precise to be random. The exposed framework looks like an open wound.
“How long to fix it?”
“Ms. Carrington’s been here since dawn.” Wade scratches his beard. “She’s already planning the reinforcement.”
“Eli.” Isla’s voice carries from above. I look up to find her on the eighth floor, leaning over the safety railing. “You need to see this.”
The construction lift groans as Wade and I ascend. Isla waits for us, tablet displaying system diagnostics.
“The breach targeted specific vulnerabilities in our sustainable systems. Vulnerabilities that only someone intimately familiar with the original Project Cornerstone would know about.”
Wade shifts. “Should I get the crew started on repairs?”
“Not yet,” Isla and I say together. She continues, “We need to document everything first. If Wolfe’s behind this?—“
“We’ll need proof.” I pull out my phone. “I’m calling Xander.”
Isla barely looks up.
“Drake’s compiling everything. But Eli...” Her voice drops.
“This is just the beginning. Wolfe’s testing us.”
“Then we’ll be ready.” I step closer. “We’re stronger together.”
She returns to work, directing her team. Pride mixes with something deeper as I watch her take command.
“Orders, boss?” Wade asks.
“Get me structural integrity reports for the entire building. If Wolfe’s planning something bigger, we need to know every vulnerability.” I look at our wounded project. “And Wade? Double the security teams. No one gets near this site without clearance.”
The executive conference room hums with tension as Xander studies the damage reports displayed across IRIS’s screens. Reyna stands by the windows, watching the Artisan Hotel site.
“The timing’s deliberate,” Xander says, scrolling through the data.
“Right when we’re most vulnerable with the sustainability integration.”
“It’s worse than that.” Isla steps forward. “The breach exploited weaknesses specific to Project Cornerstone’s original design. Weaknesses that were supposed to be classified.”
I watch her explain the technical details, pride mixing with concern in my chest. She belongs here.
“And you’re certain about Wolfe’s involvement?” Reyna asks.
“Drake’s confirmed the signature.” Isla pulls up the code analysis. “The pattern matches other systems we’ve traced back to Wolfe Development.”
“Damn it.” Xander runs a hand through his hair. “He’s getting bolder. This isn’t just about the hotel anymore, is it?”
“No,” I say, meeting his gaze. “This is about legacy. Ours and his.”
IRIS updates the displays with new security footage. Shadows move through the construction site with practiced precision.
“We need to adjust our strategy,” Reyna says. “If Wolfe’s willing to be this aggressive?—“
A knock.
“Mr. Wolfe is here,” the assistant announces.
“Of course he is,” I mutter. Isla meets my eyes—we knew this was coming.
“Show him in,” Xander says. “Let’s hear what story he’s spinning today.”
Isla moves closer.
“Remember,” she whispers, “he’s expecting us to be rattled. To doubt each other.”
“Then let’s disappoint him.” Her presence steadies me.
Wolfe enters, smile cold as he surveys our group.
“I hope I’m not interrupting. But when I heard about the unfortunate security incident, I felt compelled to offer my... expertise.”
“How thoughtful,” Reyna says. “Especially given the sophisticated nature of the breach.”
Wolfe’s expression doesn’t change.
“Indeed. These systems can be so... delicate. One must be absolutely certain of their foundations.”
I feel Isla tense beside me, and in that moment, I know we’re ready for whatever comes next. Together.
“Perhaps we should discuss the foundation of Project Cornerstone first,” Isla says. “Since that’s what this is really about, isn’t it, Mr. Wolfe?”
Wolfe settles into a conference chair.
“My dear, I’m simply concerned about history repeating itself.”
“Bullshit.” The word escapes me. “You’re concerned about losing control.”
“Control?” Wolfe raises an eyebrow. “Coming from Edward’s son, that’s rather ironic, wouldn’t you say?”
IRIS’s screens flash. Drake’s voice cuts in. “You need to see this.”
Security footage rolls—a pattern of breaches matching Wolfe’s tech.
“Interesting timing,” Reyna murmurs. “These align perfectly with your patents.”
“Circumstantial,” Wolfe says. “Besides, I’m here to help. The Artisan Hotel’s success matters to all of us.”
“The way Project Cornerstone mattered?” Isla steps forward. “Before Edward took it from your family?”
Wolfe’s facade cracks. “You’ve done your homework, Ms. Carrington.” He stands. “But do they know why you’re really here? Why Edward chose you specifically for this project?” His smile turns knowing.
“Following in your mother’s footsteps, aren’t you? I wonder if she ever told you the whole truth.” His smirk widens when Isla stiffens. “Edward Alderidge wasn’t the only one with secrets. Neither was she.”
Isla’s breath catches, but she doesn’t respond. And that silence lingers.
I move closer to Isla, but she holds her ground.
“I’m here because I’m the best person for the job. The same can’t be said for your involvement in these breaches.”
“Allegations require proof,” Wolfe says. “And proof has a way of... disappearing. Just ask your mother about that.”
Xander shifts, but Isla speaks first.
“Funny thing about disappearing evidence.” She pulls up another file. “Sometimes it leaves traces. Like the backdoor you installed in our systems – the one using your old Project Cornerstone access codes.”
Surprise crosses Wolfe’s face. Drake’s voice returns: “Full trace complete. Sending confirmation to the Ethics Committee now.”
Wolfe straightens his jacket. “Well played. But remember – you’re not the only ones who can access old systems. Or old secrets.”
He turns to leave, pausing at the door. “Edward taught you well, Elliot. But he never did learn when to let go. I hope you’re smarter than your father.”
The door closes behind him with a soft click.
The silence after Wolfe’s exit hangs heavy. Isla’s hands tremble slightly as she sets down her tablet.
“Well,” Xander says, “that was illuminating.”
“Drake,” Isla calls out, “how secure are we now?”
“Working on a full system lockdown,” Drake replies through IRIS. “But Wolfe wasn’t bluffing about those old access points. There’s... something else you should see.”
New schematics appear on screen – the original Project Cornerstone plans overlaid with our current construction.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, moving closer to the display. “He’s not just attacking the systems. He’s using our own design against us.”
“Not anymore.” Isla steps beside me. “Drake and I have been working on something. A complete redesign of the integration points.”
“Can you implement it without halting construction?” Reyna asks.
“Yes, but...” Isla meets my gaze. “It means scrapping Edward’s design, retrofitting completed floors, and major cost overruns.”
I don’t hesitate. “Do it. Dad’s way got people killed. We fix it—together.”
She turns to the screens, directing Drake through the implementation process. “If we start immediately, we can minimize the construction delays. The living wall system will need the most extensive modifications.”
“Eli.” Xander pulls me aside. “You know this makes you a target too. Wolfe won’t take this lying down.”
“Let him try.” I watch Isla coordinate with her team. “We’re stronger than he expects.”
“We’ll need to brief the Ethics Committee,” Reyna adds. “Mrs. Wu will want assurances about the new system, especially given the timeline changes.”
“Schedule it for tomorrow morning.” I straighten my tie. “Isla and I will present the redesign together. We’ll need a complete cost analysis and implementation schedule.”
“Drake,” Isla calls out, “send the new security protocols and construction modifications to Eli’s office. We’ll need to review everything before tomorrow’s presentation.”
“Already done,” Drake replies. “IRIS has cleared your access to the private conference room. I’ve included the retrofit specifications for the completed floors.”
“Subtle,” Xander mutters, sharing a look with Reyna. “We’ll handle damage control with the board. You two... handle the technical details.”
They leave us alone with our plans spread across the screens. The challenges ahead are daunting, but for the first time since this all began, I’m certain we’ll succeed.
The night deepens as Isla and I review cost projections. She leans over the conference table, pointing out integration details, but my focus keeps drifting to the curve of her neck, the way she bites her lip when concentrating.
“These numbers...” She taps the screen. Her perfume teases my senses. “We need to justify the retrofit costs.”
I step closer, ostensibly to see the display. “Show me.”
Her breath catches as my chest brushes her back. The professional distance we’ve maintained all evening crumbles. When she turns, our faces are inches apart.
“Eli...” Her voice wavers, something unreadable in her eyes. For a second, it looks like she might say something else—something important.
But instead, she pulls me closer. And I let her.
My hands find her hips, lifting her onto the conference table. Folders scatter. She pulls me between her thighs, legs wrapping around my waist. Our kiss is hungry, desperate with need.
“We shouldn’t...” But her fingers are already loosening my tie.
“We should.” I trail kisses down her neck. “We definitely should.”
Her suit jacket hits the floor. My hands slide under her silk blouse, finding warm skin. She gasps, arching into my touch.
“IRIS, privacy mode,” I manage between kisses. The windows frost instantly.
I pull Isla closer, her body pressing into mine, heat radiating from her skin. My hands grip her waist, fingers digging into soft flesh, drawing a gasp from deep within her. Her pulse pounds beneath my lips as I trail kisses down her throat, her breath hitching when my teeth graze sensitive skin.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as she arches into my touch. Her moans are soft, breathy whispers against my ear, driving me wild. I slip my hands beneath her blouse, tracing the smooth curve of her spine. She trembles, and I know—she’s already lost in this, just like I am.
Her hands move to my belt, fingers urgent, desperate. I help her, and when the leather falls away, she pushes my pants down, freeing me. Her grip around me is firm, sure, sending pleasure shooting through me. My head falls back, a groan ripping from my chest.
I reach for her, unbuttoning her blouse with trembling fingers. She shrugs it off, revealing lace beneath. I unzip her skirt, letting it pool at her feet. She stands before me, clad only in matching lingerie, her beauty stealing my breath.
“Isla,” I rasp, my hands steadying her hips on the edge of the table, her legs already locked around my waist. My hands explore her, tracing the dip of her waist, the curve of her breasts. My mouth follows, teasing, tasting, drawing desperate little noises from her lips as she writhes beneath me.
When I slide my fingers inside her, she gasps, hips lifting to meet my touch. I stroke her, my mouth following, my tongue teasing the place I know will unravel her. Her moans sharpen, her nails digging into my shoulders, her body tightening around me.
She shatters, trembling against me, and I drink in the sight of her coming apart in my hands. But I need more.
I position myself at her entrance, locking eyes with her. There’s trust there. Need. A quiet surrender that makes my chest tighten.
I push inside, her body stretching to take me, a perfect fit. A strangled moan escapes her lips as she clings to me, her breath coming in short gasps as I move.
We find our rhythm, bodies moving in sync, chasing the inevitable. And when release crashes over us, it’s not just pleasure. It’s everything—longing, restraint finally breaking.
I press my forehead to hers, still buried deep inside her, our bodies trembling, our breaths tangled.
For the first time in a long time, neither of us is running.