4. Jax
Jax
I couldn’t tell if the pounding in my head was from the scotch or from the fact that Nova had spent the last eight hours sleeping a few feet away from me.
By eight in the morning, the shared sitting room of our penthouse suite was flooded with blinding desert sunlight.
A massive room-service cart sat between us, loaded with silver domes, fresh fruit, and a much-needed carafe of black coffee.
Nova was already fully dressed in her corporate outfit—a crisp, perfectly tailored blazer and pencil skirt—and her dark hair was pinned up in a way that left the elegant line of her neck completely exposed.
“Okay, look at page four of the addendum,” Nova said, tapping her tablet with the back of her pen while she navigated a forkful of eggs.
“I dug into Gold Standard’s historical retention data for major hospitality brands.
If we highlight our long-term ROI instead of just front-loading the creative assets, hopefully we’ll appeal directly to his background. ”
I took a slow sip of my coffee, trying to match her level of professionalism. “His background in international hospitality asset management?”
“Exactly. Before he launched the Apex and broke ground on Onyx, Christian Sterling spent three years restructuring luxury boutique hotels across Europe with his father. He’s an operations guy at his core.
He doesn’t just want a pretty campaign; he wants to see the structural metrics of how GSM is going to scale his brand globally.
” She swiped to a new screen, bringing up a high-res corporate headshot from a recent financial journal.
“Here. I managed to pull a clean bio photo from the Financial Times piece that ran yesterday so you can memorize the face.”
I leaned forward, setting my coffee cup down onto the glass table, and squinted at the screen.
The man in the photo was wearing a flawless navy suit. His dark hair was sharply styled, his jawline precise, and he had a distinct, unshakeable glint of supreme confidence in his silver eyes.
A sudden, freezing jolt of recognition slammed straight into my chest. The coffee in my stomach turned to pure lead.
“Nova,” I said, my voice dropping an octave as I stared at the tablet. “Look at the photo.”
She blinked, leaning in closer to the screen. “I am looking at it. That’s Christian Sterling.”
“No, Nova. Look at his face. The hair. The eyes.” I looked up, meeting her gaze dead-on. “Think back to a few hours ago. The rooftop club.”
Nova’s eyes widened and the color drained from her cheeks. Her mouth dropped open in a perfect, stunned circle.
She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god. He was the one hitting on me. I turned him down.”
“Yeah, the very same man,” I muttered, my jaw tightening as the memory of the guy’s smug, competitive smile flashed through my mind.
“It makes sense,” she whispered, her brain rapidly connecting the dots as she stared at the screen. “Of course he’d be hanging out in his own VIP lounge. The Apex is his flagship property. He was scouting his own floor.”
A sudden, wicked little grin tugged at the corner of her lips, her eyes flashing with that familiar teasing I knew all too well.
“Man,” she said. “If I’d known that was the multi-billion-dollar client, I totally would have flirted back. Think of the leverage we’d have for the GSM contract right now.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” I growled, the words slipping out a little too fast, a little too protective.
I cleared my throat quickly, forcing my professional tone back into place.
“We don’t mix business with… whatever that was.
Come on. Grab your binder. We have a meeting to win, regardless of his nightlife antics. ”
I hated that I was going to go into the meeting trying to sell my family’s business to a man I wanted to punch in the face for flirting with the woman of my dreams.
Ten minutes later, we stepped out of the executive elevators onto the restricted lower level of the Apex.
The chaotic chiming of the casino floor vanished, replaced by the hushed, intimidating quiet of corporate wealth.
The hallways were lined with frosted glass, minimalist art, and security guards who looked like they checked bank statements at the door.
We were escorted into a massive, state-of-the-art boardroom. The center of the room was dominated by a monolithic black marble table, and my stomach did a tight flip when I realized we were heavily outnumbered.
Like Nova had suggested, Christian Sterling hadn’t come alone.
Arrayed down the right side of the table were at least seven other executives—sharp-faced men and women in dark gray suits, holding tablets and looking at us like we were a minor annoyance on their morning schedule.
At the head of the table sat the man of the hour. Up close, in the stark overhead lighting of the boardroom, Christian Sterling looked even more formidable than he had under the neon lights of the club.
“Mr. Mylonas,” Sterling said, rising smoothly from his leather chair and extending a hand. If he recognized us from the rooftop lounge, he didn’t let it show on his face. “Welcome to the Apex. I’m Christian Sterling. My team tells me Gold Standard Media has a rather ambitious vision for Onyx.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sterling,” I said, gripping his hand firmly, matching his handshake pound for pound. “We appreciate the opportunity to show you what GSM can do for your portfolio.”
Sterling’s sharp eyes drifted past my shoulder, locking instantly onto Nova. His lips curved into a slow, highly intrigued smile—the exact same look he’d given her when she was wearing that emerald green dress.
“And you must be Miss Clark,” Sterling murmured, his tone polite but laced with a hidden layer of pure amusement. “I was informed that you’d be joining us during this visit.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Sterling,” Nova answered smoothly, her voice entirely professional as she stepped up beside me without a single hint of hesitation.
“Please, sit,” Sterling said, gesturing to the empty seats across from his small army of executives. “Let’s see if your presentation lives up to the reputation.”
An hour later, the boardroom doors had barely clicked shut behind us before I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding since the meeting had started.
The pitch had gone incredibly well. I had easily gone through my planned pitch, and Nova had been flawless, stepping in and hitting every metric and tracking a few asset-scaling questions without missing a single beat.
We’d held our own against his wall of seven gray-suited executioners, and for the first time all morning, I felt the heavy knot in my stomach start to loosen.
We actually had a real shot at landing this account.
We were halfway down the plush, quiet executive corridor heading toward the elevators when the heavy mahogany door behind us reopened.
“Mr. Mylonas. Miss Clark,” a smooth, cultured voice called out.
I stopped, my shoulders tightening instantly as I turned back.
Christian Sterling was walking toward us, his hands casually slipped into the pockets of his tailored trousers.
He’d dropped the formidable, stone-faced persona he’d held at the head of the boardroom table, replacing it with the same effortless, predatory charm he’d exuded on the rooftop lounge.
“Mr. Sterling,” I said, keeping my tone strictly professional as he stopped a few feet away. “Did we leave something behind?”
“Just a bit of formality,” he said, a slow, easy smile playing on his lips.
He nodded, but his focus immediately drifted away from me.
His sharp, eyes locked onto Nova. I watched the corporate barrier completely vanish, and the predatory rival from the night before stepped right into the sunlight.
“Please, lose the ‘Mr. Sterling.’ When we’re outside the boardroom, everyone calls me Kit.
” He said the last with his eyes on Nova.
“Kit,” Nova repeated with a smile. I felt my back teeth clench.
“I have to say, Nova,” Kit murmured, his voice dropping into that low, intimate purr that made my jaw grind.
“Your analysis on our metrics was spectacular. It’s rare to find someone who understands the luxury hospitality market with that kind of precision.
And, if I may say so, your presentation attire is just as captivating as the emerald green dress you wore last night. ”
Nova blinked, a small caught-off-guard smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you, Kit. I believe in being thoroughly prepared.”
“Clearly,” Kit said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he openly, unashamedly flirted with her right in front of me.
He took a half-step closer, entirely ignoring my existence for a second.
“I’m hosting a small, private dinner tonight at Prime’s, the vintage lounge inside the VIP wing.
Very exclusive, excellent wine. I’d love for you to join me, Nova.
I think we have a lot more to discuss regarding your vision for Onyx. ”
My chest tightened, a hot, territorial anger burning through my veins. Before I could step between them and politely decline on her behalf, Kit glanced my way, a look of pure, competitive amusement flashing in his eyes.
“And, of course,” Kit added, his tone conversational, almost like an afterthought, “you’re more than welcome to tag along too, if you’d like to join us.”
Tag along. Like I was her chaperone. Like I wasn’t the senior account executive leading the damn pitch for GSM, my family’s business.
I clenched my fist inside my pocket, forcing my face to remain an unreadable, professional mask while every protective, jealous instinct I possessed screamed at me to pull Nova against my side and walk away.
Kit Sterling wasn’t just testing his luck anymore.
He was actively trying to take what was mine—even if Nova didn’t know she belonged to me yet.
The elevator ride up to the penthouse was a study in suffocating silence.
“Tag along,” I muttered, the muscle in my jaw practically twitching as I stared at the digital floor indicator rising rapidly. “The guy literally looked at me like I was your paid bodyguard.”
Nova let out a soft laugh, shifting her binder under her arm.
“Oh, come on. He was just being hospitable. Plus, it’s a private dinner at Prime’s.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a table there?
This is a massive win for GSM. We are in his inner circle after just one pitch. ” She almost squealed it.
“He doesn’t want GSM in his inner circle, Nova. He wants you,” I said dryly, turning my head to look at her. The protective roar in my chest hadn’t quieted down one bit. “He was openly hitting on you right in front of your supervisor.”
Nova rolled her eyes, but a tiny hint of a flush crept up her neck. “I am perfectly capable of handling a little corporate flirtation if it secures the biggest contract that GSM has seen in years. I told you, I’m playing for keeps on this trip.”
The elevator chimed, saving me from saying something entirely too honest.
We agreed that we both needed a break, so we retreated to our rooms and changed into something more…
us. When I walked back out into the sitting room ten minutes later, I’d swapped my tailored suit for a pair of comfortably worn jeans, a plain black T-shirt, and an unbuttoned red-and-black flannel.
The jacket had been too heavy last time.
Nova emerged a second later, and my chest squeezed once again. She’d let her hair down and looked effortlessly beautiful in a pair of fitted blue jeans, a simple white tank top, and bright red Chuck Taylors. She looked exactly like the girl I’d spent my entire youth falling in love with.
“I feel much better,” she declared, bouncing slightly on her sneakers. “Now, take me somewhere that doesn’t serve food under a silver dome. I want grease.”
“I know just the spot.” I smiled, the lingering tension from the meeting finally fading into the background.
Outside, a rare layer of high desert clouds had rolled over the valley, blocking out the oppressive midday sun and cooling the afternoon down to a perfect, comfortable warmth.
A light breeze stirred the air as we stepped onto the sidewalk of the Strip, making the walk feel like a luxury instead of an endurance test.
We headed to the lower end of the Strip to a rustic, multi-level spot specializing in low-and-slow barbecue. Up on the expansive rooftop patio, we scored a table right against the railing, surrounded by the ambient noise of the city and the smell of smoked brisket.
There was a band playing and couples dancing to the music in front of the stage area.
I ordered an ice-cold beer while Nova picked a sweet frozen cocktail. We ordered a massive platter of ribs and cornbread.
“All right, let’s look at the data objectively,” Nova said, leaning her elbows on the table and swirling her drink with her straw.
“Jerk or not, Kit Sterling was impressed with the presentation. When we go to dinner tonight, we need to push the regional ad-buy strategy. I bet we can get him to agree to that framework over appetizers.”
“You really think we can trust him to keep his hands above the table?” I asked, taking a long pull from my beer. I hated how much space the guy was taking up in my head, but I couldn’t ignore the predatory vibe he put off.
“I think Kit is a man who likes a challenge, in and out of the boardroom,” Nova said thoughtfully, her eyes fixed on the distant steel frame of the Onyx construction site up the road.
“But I also think he respects competence. As long as we keep the boundary clear, we use his interest to lock GSM into his budget for all his Colorado marketing needs over the next three years.” She looked back across the table at me, her gaze softening with that fierce, unshakeable loyalty that always blew me away.
“I’m not letting him—or anyone else—stand in the way of what you’ve earned, Jax. ”
I looked at her as the cool condensation dripped down my beer bottle and felt a dangerous shift in my own resolve. Kit Sterling thought he could play games with us, but he didn’t know the history he was trying to compete with.