7. Magnolia Steel
Chapter 7
Magnolia Steel
The revolving doors of the Harbourview Grand sweep open with a soft whoosh, and just inside, the doorman greets me with a polite nod. The lobby, with its sleek marble floors and quiet luxury, feels familiar now, almost welcoming in a way it didn’t before. It’s just a hotel, but knowing it belongs to Caesar’s family makes me see it differently—maybe even like it a little more. It feels more personal, like it holds a part of him, a glimpse into the world he comes from.
I cross the lobby and step into the waiting elevator, replaying our evening in my head—his easy smile, the way he looked at me like I was someone worth knowing.
The elevator arrives at my floor, and I step out, making my way down the hall. I’m halfway there when Sophie’s door swings open, and Elijah steps out—shirt untucked and hair disheveled.
I stop dead in my tracks. Perfect. Exactly who I don’t want to run into, but there’s no avoiding him now.
He freezes when he sees me, fumbling to smooth his shirt as if that’ll somehow hide the fact that he looks like he just crawled out of Sophie’s bed. Could he not have the decency to stay until morning and then do the walk of shame like a normal person?
“Uh… hey… umm.” He stumbles over his words, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just, uh, checking in with Sophie about our plans for tomorrow. The coastal walk is still on.”
I raise a brow, biting back a smirk. “Glad to hear nothing has changed.” Since dinner.
His obvious lie makes the moment painfully awkward. He shifts uncomfortably under my gaze, his eyes dropping to my blouse. I notice him zero in on the extra button I left undone, revealing a little cleavage, and his expression shifts.
“Have you been out?” His words carry a sharp edge, as if he actually believes he has the right to question my whereabouts.
The fucking nerve.
“Just went for a walk.”
His frown deepens. “You shouldn’t be out walking alone at night in a city you don’t know. I would’ve been happy to go with you.”
Disgust simmers inside me. He has the gall to say that, right after slipping out of Sophie’s bed? And now he thinks he’s somehow my protector, like I need him to keep me safe.
My smile remains firmly in place though it’s brittle around the edges. “While I appreciate the concern, Elijah, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”
What I don’t tell him is that I learned how to handle men at a young age. Honestly, I could probably protect him better than he could protect me.
“Goodnight, Elijah.” The finality in my words leaves no room for argument.
I turn on my heel and head toward my room, leaving him standing there with whatever excuse or charm he was about to throw my way.
The door clicks behind me, and I kick off my shoes, striding to the window. Sydney’s breathtaking view sprawls before me, but my mind is tangled in what I did tonight with Caesar.
It was wrong. Meeting him is a direct violation of company policy, and if anyone at Soul Sync finds out, I could be terminated.
Twisting my hair absentmindedly over one shoulder, I wonder what Gabby would think if she knew. Gabby trusted me with this assignment, and here I am, risking it all.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I rub my temples. I shouldn’t have gone to meet him. I knew better, and I did it anyway.
But the truth is I’m not sure I’d take it back.
The attraction to him will pass––that’s what I told myself, but it’s even worse now that I’ve met him. Because Julius Caesar isn’t just easy to talk to; he’s impossible to ignore. The pull is stronger now, sharper, and being around him feels like stepping too close to the edge.
And that’s a problem.
I don’t know what to do. My head is spinning, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make sense of it. I need to talk to someone––someone who can help me sort this out before I make a bigger mistake.
Not Robin or Charlene. They’d both say the same thing: the guy has money, so go for it.
There’s only one person in the world I can trust with this information—someone who will give me real advice, not tell me what I want to hear.
My phone rests on the nightstand, and I grab it, taking a deep breath. If anyone can help me figure this out, it’s Violet.
She picks up almost immediately. “Mags? What the hell are you doing up this late? It’s the middle of the night down under, isn’t it?”
“One a.m.,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “But your day’s just starting, right?”
“Oh yeah, it’s Fri-yay, baby!” she laughs, and I hear papers shuffling in the background. “You must be having one hell of a night if you’re still up.”
“Not exactly.” Tonight has been a lot. “I need to talk.”
Violet’s concern cuts through immediately. “Uh oh. Wait, is this about Elijah? Did something happen?”
The image of him slipping out of Sophie’s room, looking rumpled and guilty, flashes in my mind. But I don’t want to get into it with Violet. Not tonight. “No, it’s not about Elijah.”
The words spill out of me, more like a confession than a story—something I need to release before it takes over. I tell her everything: how I met Caesar in the dating suite, how we talked longer than we should have. I recount every detail—from the way he asked me to help calm his nerves to the conversation that stretched on until his match finally arrived.
“Gabby asked us to take on extra roles for this assignment, so when Caesar asked to talk, I felt like I had to say yes. I was doing my job.”
Saying it aloud doesn’t make me feel any better.
“At least, that’s how it started. Then I found myself drawn to him. But I swear, I never intended to act on it.” The words make everything feel that much more real—and that much more dangerous.
I press a hand to my temple, trying to calm the chaos swirling in my head. “But then today, after we talked again, just as I was leaving the suite, he blurted out where he’d be tonight—like he wanted me to know, like it was an invitation.”
“And you went.” There’s a hint of disbelief simmering beneath her words.
I sigh, feeling like a huge turd. “Yeah, I went.”
“Oof.” She inhales sharply, that familiar sound of hers—the way she always sucks in air through her teeth when things are about to get messy. “Damn, girl. That’s next-level crazy… but also kinda iconic.”
I let out a tired laugh, knowing she’s right. “I know.”
“Okay, so what did you think of him?”
I fall back against the pillows, letting out a soft sigh. “We didn’t get much time to talk. It was already late by the time I got there. But oh, Vi…” I trail off, a grin tugging at my lips.
Violet’s laugh crackles through the line. “Don’t you dare stop there! Spill it, Mags. Is he gorgeous? What’s he like? I need details.”
My pulse quickens at the thought of Caesar. “He’s half Swedish, half Samoan, with this inherent beauty… and black-ink tattoos.”
I’ve always had a type, and he fits it so perfectly it’s almost unsettling.
I can still picture him in that crisp white button-down, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders, the open collar displaying the edge of his tattoos—dark patterns curling along his golden-brown skin, warm and sun-kissed, like endless summers and ocean sunsets. “The way his skin contrasted with that white shirt…” I shake my head, a soft laugh escaping as I get lost in the memory. “God, it worked. And his glossy black hair—just messy enough to make you want to run your hands through it. And his dark eyes? Flawless, Violet. Chef’s kiss.”
There’s a beat of silence before Violet speaks, her teasing edge unmistakable. “Wait… are you saying Dak might’ve slipped to second place?”
I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “I haven’t thought about Dak once since I met this guy.”
“This is huge,” Violet says, exaggerating every word with playful dramatics. “You never get excited about guys.”
“That’s because I’ve never met this guy,” I say, unable to keep the grin off my face.
I shift against the pillows, my smile widening. “He’s rugged, Vi, exactly the way I like ’em. Not some polished pretty boy. He’s got an edge about him—just rough enough to be dangerous but in all the best ways. And his voice––” I let out a small laugh. “That smooth, deep Australian accent could make anything sound like an invitation.”
It could charm the panties right off a girl.
“Okay, but let’s not forget—this guy’s a client, Mags. And he’s been matched with someone else. You’re playing with fire here.”
I sigh, the reality creeping back in. “I know, and I feel guilty. Caesar paid a ton of money for this match as did Cleopatra. And now, I might be the reason it’s not working out between them.”
Violet’s words take on a practical edge. “This guy lives in Australia. You live in Charleston. In three months, you’ll be back home. This could never develop into more than a fling.”
“The logical part of my brain knows that.”
Violet’s laughter spills through the line. “Are you sure the logical part of your brain is still functioning?”
I laugh along with her, shaking my head. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This guy has me completely unhinged, and I’m low-key okay with it.”
Violet’s words are edged with gentle concern. “Be realistic for a second. What do you actually think can happen with him?”
“I don’t know, Vi.” I twist a strand of hair around my finger, the motion as aimless as my thoughts. “The only thing I know for sure is that I’m drawn to him—in a way that doesn’t even make sense.”
“Who is he?” she asks, shifting into full-blown detective mode.
“That’s the thing—I don’t know.”
“Not even after meeting him?”
“ Especially after meeting him.” I let out a sigh. “He said he’s in the hotel business. I strongly suspect some kind of hotelier magnate.”
“Hmm.” Violet perks up. “So, obviously he’s not famous -famous? Are we talking billionaire-with-a-private-jet famous?”
“No idea. But his family owns the hotel we’re staying in.”
Violet hums thoughtfully. “Since you know he owns the hotel, finding out who he is would be easy enough.”
I sit up straighter, frowning. “No. That would be crossing a line.”
“Magnolia Steel,” she says, balancing patience with a hint of reproach. “As if you haven’t already crossed lines.”
“I can’t see him again, can I?” The moment the words leave my mouth, a pang ripples through me, unexpected and unsettling. The thought of never seeing Caesar again feels heavier than I’d anticipated, gnawing in a way I can’t quite shake.
“You’re asking the wrong question, Magnolia. It’s not about whether you can see him again—it’s about whether you should. You need to let this one go.”
“Thanks, Vi. I needed a reality check.” Violet always knows how to set me straight, pulling me back when I’m on the edge of making a bad decision. “It’s late, and I’m meeting the others in the morning. I should go.”
“Anytime. And whatever you decide, please be careful, okay?”
“No worries, Vi. I won’t let this become a problem.”
Who am I kidding? This is already a problem.
I end the call, and the silence in my room feels suffocating. The rational part of my brain knows this has to end before it even begins. But something deeper, something wild and reckless, whispers that I’ve never felt this kind of pull with anyone else before.
I clutch the phone tighter as if the connection to Violet might steady me. But no amount of logic can quiet the ache spreading through me at the thought of walking away from him.
And the worst part? I’m not even sure I want to.