FOUR

“Carrie, can you come in here please?” Grace didn’t wait for the woman to respond before retreating back into her office.

The meeting with Mark had ended less than an hour ago and she was already inundated with emails from the wretched man. Stabbing her foot on the spiky heel of one discarded shoe, Grace let out a chain of curses as she threw herself into her chair and waited for Carrie. She was staring at her computer screen so hard that it took her several seconds before realizing Carrie had already come in and shut the door.

“Is there something you’d like to discuss, Ms. Fitzgerald?” Carrie’s voice was wary, uncertain if she’d been summoned to solve a problem or because she’d caused one. Several months had passed since Mr. Donovan’s last stay, but Carrie remembered in painful detail every combative call he’d made to the front desk the morning Grace had taken pity on her and finally gone up to the villa to deal with him herself.

“What is this?” Without looking Carrie’s way, Grace stabbed her computer screen with her finger.

“I don’t know what….”

“Then don’t just stand there. Come here and tell me what this is.”

Grace didn’t usually yell at her employees. She knew it was counterproductive, not to mention wrong. But she felt stretched beyond all reason and her voice came out loud and sharp. Catching Carrie’s flinch out of the corner of her eye, Grace turned towards her and tried to start the conversation again. “Sorry, Carrie. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I’m just preoccupied after this morning’s meeting.”

“Yes.” Carried bobbed her head. “I can understand why.”

“Why?” Grace was all sorts of curious about what Carrie walked away from that disaster thinking.

“He really is very intimidating. And quite direct about what he wants.”

“What he wants?” A tremor raced up Grace’s spine at Carrie’s choice of words. God, she hoped Mark’s reference to their fleeting encounter hadn’t been glaringly obvious to everyone in the room. Grace was running through every plausible excuse she could give the young woman about Mark’s innuendo, when Carrie continued.

“Based on my, um, previous experiences with him, I know Mr. Donovan can be very specific. And very abrupt. But I was still surprised that he was so insistent about everything, especially in front of everyone.”

“Carrie,”—Grace forced herself to sound calm—“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah.” Understanding lit Carrie’s eyes. “Yes, you had to leave. So you weren’t there when he told everyone what he wants done.”

“What he wants done…?” The throbbing pain in Grace’s foot and the one growing behind her left eye were suddenly joined by a sick feeling deep in her stomach. “Carrie, what exactly does Mr. Donovan want done?”

“The Seven Winds Villa, Ms. Fitzgerald. We are to take it out of inventory. Indefinitely.”

Her face blank, Grace stared at Carrie then turned to her computer screen, then back to the young woman. The whole time she prayed that the email open on her screen and Carrie’s comments had nothing to do with each other. A hope that was sinking faster and faster by the second.

“Mr. Donovan doesn’t want guests staying in the villa?”

“Correct,” Carrie confirmed.

“Did he say why?”

“He said it should be removed from the reservations system and that he’d finalize his plans for the villa with the new general manager.”

“That was it? He gave no explanation for why I am to make our premier suite unavailable? No comment about the revenue we’ll lose?”

“Ah, no.” Carrie shook her head.

“And no one thought to ask?” Grace managed not to yell, but only just.

“Ms. Fitzgerald, it was obvious from Mr. Donovan’s tone that it wasn’t up for discussion. And no one wanted to ask. Not with all of his talk about firing staff just minutes before.”

“Fine, fine.” Grace squeezed her eyes shut and heaved out a sigh. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Yes, okay.” Carrie nodded. “Should I remove the villa in the meantime?”

Grace wanted to say no. Very, very badly. But while she didn’t have a problem pushing back against Mark and his orders, she didn’t want Carrie’s job threatened in the process. “Yes, remove the Seven Winds Villa from the reservation system for now. Once I’ve spoken to Mr. Donovan I’ll let you know if we can bring it back.”

“Okay. Will do.” Carrie’s eyes darted over to Grace’s computer. “Did you still have a question?”

Grace looked at the message open on her screen:

 

       Ms. Fitzgerald – you left before we could finish our conversation. We still have things to discuss. Many, in fact. Ms. Harris knows where you need to be and when. 

       M

 

“Did Mr. Donovan say anything to you about needing to see me?”

The nervous expression that Carrie had been wearing when she came into the office returned full force. She glanced down at her watch before looking anxiously at Grace.

“Yes, he said he wanted to see you, ah, about now, actually.”

“Shit.” Grace stood up and forced her feet back into her heels. “Why didn’t you tell me that when you came in?”

“I’m sorry,” Carrie stuttered, “we started talking about the meeting, then you were so focused on the villa. I thought you already knew he wanted to see you, that you were just catching up on what you missed earlier.”

“Yes, well,” Grace ground out, “he did send an email saying he wants to continue our discussion from this morning, but that you would tell me where and when.”

“That’s just it, Ms. Fitzgerald. He didn’t actually say where. He just said he was saving a seat for you on the sofa. That you would know what he was talking about it. And that he had no doubt that you’d be responsive to his needs. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“That motherfu—” Grace cut herself off as Carrie’s eyes widened in surprise. “His needs, indeed,” Grace muttered between clenched teeth.

“His message makes sense?”

“Unfortunately, Carrie, yes. Yes, it does.” Smoothing down her dress, Grace stepped around her desk and up to the young woman. “Next time, if Mr. Donovan asks you to pass on a message, please do that first. Before anything else. Understood?”

Carrie looked down at her feet, but Grace could hear her quiet, “Yes.” 

“Carrie.” Grace waited until she met her gaze. “I am aware that Mr. Donovan can be abrupt. Intimidating. And I remember, quite clearly, how difficult he made it for you that morning. But that does not mean that you should let him steamroll you, right?” Grace nodded until Carrie mirrored the movement.

“You are an intelligent, skilled member of this team. You do your job well. And you rarely let the daily drama get to you. Don’t let it be any different with Mark, okay? Straighten your spine and stand your ground; that always throws bullies off their game.” Grace was pleased when Carrie gave her a small smile. “Besides, I bet his bark is significantly worse than his bite.”

Carrie’s hesitant smile was gone and in its place a look of pure skepticism. “If you say so, Ms. Fitzgerald.”

“Yes, well….” Grace’s voice trailed off as she grabbed her golf cart key from her desk. Because despite what she told Carrie, she had her own suspicions about Mark’s bite. Ones that made her fingers turn to ice even while her core warmed with a disturbing sense of anticipation. Giving Carrie a nod, Grace straightened to her full height and silently repeated her own words.

You are an intelligent, skilled member of this team.

You do your job well.

You rarely let the drama get to you. 

And you’re not going to start today.

Regardless of how much, deep down, she thought she might actually enjoy Mark’s teeth, sharp against her skin. 

 

***

 

This time when Grace knocked on his door, Mark actually answered.

“You’re late.”

“And you were unnecessarily vague with your instructions.” Mark’s large form filled the entrance, and Grace repressed an urge to shove him out of the way. “Are you going to let me in, or do you want to continue our discussion here?”

Mark’s lips twisted slightly, but he stayed silent, waving her in.

It took all of Grace’s ingrained professionalism to respond with a quiet, “Thank you.” But if she expected politeness reciprocated by her new boss, she was going to be disappointed. Before the door even closed behind her, Mark had disappeared into the living room. Grace followed, expecting to find him pacing in front of a sofa, but she whispered a curse when she heard him descend the stairs to the lower level.

You have to be fucking kidding me.

“Ms. Fitzgerald,” he called from below. “The longer you wait up there, the later you’ll be for our meeting. And I do not consider tardiness a good quality in my employees.”

Placing one foot intentionally in front of the other, Grace made it down to the villa’s ground level and mentally applauded herself for not picking up the large vase of orchids from the hall table and hurling it at his head.

“Come. Sit.” Mark patted the spot next to him on the small loveseat, that loveseat, his fingertips lingering against the smooth weave of the fabric.

“I’d much rather stand, thanks.”

“Are you sure?” He actually grinned. “It’s quite comfortable. As you may remember.”

Wrapping one hand around the sleek banister, Grace used the solid surface to ground herself. And as a physical reminder that she couldn’t actually maim the man in front of her. No matter how much she wanted to.

“Yes, Mr. Donovan. Very sure.” Grace directed an exaggerated look at her watch. “For someone so concerned about starting this meeting on time, you don’t seem very interested in getting to the point.” 

“It’s my meeting, Ms. Fitzgerald. I reserve the right to dictate the pace.” Even though Mark’s tone was smooth, neutral, his eyes tracked the length of her legs, lingering on the exposed skin of her thighs. “In my experience, I’ve found my partners usually enjoy a little banter beforehand. Before we, you know, get down to business.”

Grace choked back a startled sound and ignored the innuendo he was so casually throwing around. “I don’t doubt you have a great deal of experience in a great number of things, Mr. Donovan. But I doubt any of it’s relevant to our current conversation.” Even as he lifted one brow, she barreled on. “Perhaps your previous experience at the Seven Winds has given you the wrong idea about what it’s like to work here. I don’t actually have time to stand here, idly chatting. If you have something you’d like to discuss, let’s discuss. Otherwise I need to get back to my office and start dealing with the emails clogging my inbox. Many of which, I’d like to point out, came from you.”

Crossing one leg over the other, Mark lifted one arm to rest across the back of the sofa, the stretch and pull of his muscles visible through the fabric of his dress shirt. He was the picture of a man in control, breath even, eyes calm, lips relaxed. But from where she stood several feet away, Grace could see his muscles tight with tension and an erratic flutter at the base of his throat where his open collar revealed a sliver of tan skin.

Grace fought back the urge to smile. Mark Donovan might be in control, but it was taking him some effort to stay that way.   

“Ms. Fitzgerald,” he murmured, “as I said this morning, I understand that you may find my presence here surprising. And because of that I’m willing to overlook a certain amount of reticence on your part. But not for long. Because I am not going anywhere. The Seven Winds is mine. So if you want to stay here, you’ll have to learn to work with me.” Mark picked an invisible piece of lint off one thigh before lifting his cool gaze. “Do you understand?”

Whatever splinter of triumph Grace felt at the realization that Mark wasn’t as invincible as he tried to appear vanished under the cold logic of his comment. He did own the hotel. The place where she had worked for years. The place she called home and had no desire to leave. And no amount of wishful thinking or willful detachment would change that.

Grace felt a sigh building in her chest and swallowed it down. “Yes, Mr. Donovan. I do understand, quite clearly.”

“Do you?”

There was an edge to his voice that set Grace’s pulse speeding. It wasn’t attraction she was hearing, but power. Two little words imbued with the self-worth of a man who knew what it was like to be in charge and came by the position rightfully. But nothing about Mark’s career leading up to that point made him an expert about this hotel, this island. No. That distinction belonged to Grace. And she was going to be sure he understood it.

“Yes, Mr. Donovan. I do. Regardless of everything else”—she waved loosely at the villa around them, the space that up till that moment had defined the only relationship between them—“I’m quite clear about your position here. As owner of the hotel. Despite how you may have interpreted our conversation earlier, I am not here to fight you on every decision.”

“You aren’t?”

It couldn’t possibly be a hint of disappointment she heard in his voice. “No. In fact, I agree with your decision to fire Marcus. His recklessness was putting both the hotel and the guests at risk. It was only a matter of time before he caused irreparable damage.”

“Yes, well.” Mark’s jaw ticked, and Grace was surprised by the fierce expression that passed over his face before he settled back against the loveseat. “He won’t be stepping foot in this country again. Of that you can be sure.”

“I can say with all honestly I’m relieved.” Grace gave him the smallest flash of a smile. “See? That’s a decision I don’t plan on fighting.”

“But there are others.” There was no hint of a question, and Grace shifted away from the railing to stand closer.

“Yes. There are others.” She kept her eyes trained on his deep blue depths. “What you said this morning about inappropriate behavior amongst our staff. I cannot—will not—accept that. Not when you’re practically a stranger here. Staying as a guest and understanding the daily operations of this place are two wildly different things. And regardless of how skilled you might be in business, you cannot possibly understand what it is like—what it has been like—working here over the past several months. Not after a two-week stay.”

Mark was leaning forward now, his feet flat on the ground, his arms braced on his thighs. Grace couldn’t tell if she was losing her mind or if she really could feel the soft puffs of his breath across her legs.

“What’s it been like, Grace? Tell me.”

With the stress that had culminated over the past few months hitting her solidly in the stomach, Grace locked her knees so she didn’t waver, giving the open spot on the loveseat a fleeting glance.

No. No matter how much Mark softened his tone, Grace had no intention of getting anywhere near that piece of furniture with him. Not ever again.

“Honestly, it’s been hard. Marcus became erratic a while ago, but some of his more recent decisions went beyond idiotic to full-on catastrophic. I can’t begin to guess how much time I’ve spent running interference with guests, smoothing over things where I could, offering free spa or golf services when apologies and complimentary cocktails weren’t enough.

“Even before you and Jack came in January, Marcus was already disappearing for large periods of time, missing important meetings. He was never around when he was supposed to be. And I ended up stepping in to cover for him.”

Mark was watching her intently, absorbing everything she was saying. “Why you?”

Grace half expected the question to come out as a dig, but he sounded genuinely curious.

“It wasn’t intentional, not at first. Just a matter of being in the right place at the right time. Despite being practically invisible to guests, my office is right in the middle of everything. The lobby, the bar, the restaurant, the pools, the resort—it all spans out from the one place I spend more time than any other. If a guest has a problem, I hear about it first. If a member of staff has an issue, I tend to be their first stop. Eventually, coming to me became second nature for everyone. Marcus was disappearing for longer stretches each time, and then it was as if he wasn’t here at all.”

Grace continued, face carefully blank, “By that morning, when I came here and found you….” She dropped her eyes to the spot where she’d found Mark passed out and repressed the image of him spread almost naked on the floor. When she looked up, there was color high on Mark’s cheeks and his fingers looked rigid where he pressed them against his legs.

“Yes, by that morning?” he prompted her to continue.

“Hmm, yes, that morning. By then I was practically default GM of the hotel. Which is why I was the one to come here, to check on a VIP guest who was dissatisfied with something. Given the number of times you called the front desk, your persistent complaints, your status at the hotel—Marcus should have been the one to come here. Not me.”

“Yes. He should have.” Mark agreed so easily Grace was taken aback. “He was the one I wanted, the one I expected. All of those calls, complaints. I was trying to get him here.”

“What, why?” Grace shook her head, confused. “If you wanted to speak with Marcus so badly, why didn’t you just call his office and set up a meeting? He wouldn’t have said no. Not to you.”

Mark’s lips quirked, a glint of humor flashing. “I never expected you to be the one to point out Marcus Baker’s only positive quality.”

“Excuse me?”

Mark’s smile returned for a second, wide, bright and oh so tempting. “That, unlike some, he wouldn’t say no. Not to me.”

“Mr. Donovan.” Grace stepped back.

Ignoring both her response and her questions, Mark continued, “Despite my intentions, I’m actually pleased Marcus was MIA that day. I sincerely doubt I would have enjoyed myself so thoroughly if he’d been the one to find me so…exposed.”

Eager to return to the safer territory, Grace cleared her throat. “Why did you want to see Marcus?”

“That’s not something you need to worry about.”

Grace leaned forward, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest, his casual dismissal infuriating. “Fine. But there are other things I do need to worry about. One, specifically, I need to address right now.”

“And what might that be, Ms. Fitzgerald?”

“You, Mr. Donovan. Because you’ve just arrived and you’re already making decisions that negatively impact the hotel.”

“Really? Please, explain that to me.”

God! How that condescending tone incensed her.

“This villa,” she bit back. “You want this villa out of inventory so that no one can reserve it. Do you have any idea how many thousands of dollars a night we charge for this place?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Making it unavailable to guests is a bad decision. We will lose money. A lot of it. Surely if you are as good at running companies as everyone says, you’d understand that.”

Mark looked up, completely unfazed. “Your point’s only valid if you assume that I don’t have someone already paying for the villa.”

“Oh, and who might that be?

“Well, Ms. Fitzgerald.” Grace tried not to stare as Mark unfolded his long frame and came to stand in front of her, his chest a hairs-breadth from where her arms were banded across her own. “As it happens, I’m paying for it.”

Grace shook her head, “You haven’t reserved it. There’s no payment method recorded in the system. Who is even staying here? And why couldn’t they have gone through the reservation process like everyone else?”

“Oh, Grace.” Mark breathed out her name, and it warmed her lips, the responsive shiver that raced down her spine something she was helpless to stop. “I fear your prejudice against me is making it hard for you to understand.” Grace felt anger color her face and, fuck, if Mark didn’t actually smile. “I’ve already explained. I’m paying for the villa. Or, rather, Donovan Holdings is assuming the cost. And I’m staying here.”

“Why?” Grace needed to know his answer, even though she was sure she’d hate it.

“Because I like it here.” Mark let his gaze fall to her lips, down to the delicate hollow at the base of her neck, then further to her chest, pushed up by her arms. “And because I have good memories from my last stay here.”

He closed his eyes, and Grace prayed he wasn’t recalling their intense encounter as vividly as she was.

She was so absorbed by the forbidden memory, Grace almost found herself agreeing—out loud—when Mark whispered, “Very good memories, Grace.”

But the way her name rolled off his tongue with such languid intent jump-started her nerves, and Grace took several steps back, pulling herself away from the dangerous web Mark was weaving.

“Regardless of why you’ve decided to stay here,” she managed to say, “taking the villa out of the hotel’s room inventory is a bad idea. One I’m sure your new general manager will disagree with.”

His eyes now open, Mark assessed the distance between them before looking at her. “Oh, she already has.”

Grace’s mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. Mark watched, a grin twisting his lips.

“You have a general manager?” she finally asked. “You’ve already spoken with her? She’s arrived?”

“So many questions, so few breaths. Pause for a second, Grace. This is my meeting after all, and I’m not rushing you out the door. Take a moment to decide which question you want me to answer first.”

Grace glared even as she forced her brain into working order. It shouldn’t matter that he had a new GM. It was exactly what she’d wanted. She should be relieved, Grace reminded herself. This was proof he was taking the job seriously. He wasn’t fucking around, wasting time finding Marcus’s replacement. Then why was she so agitated? Why did it bother her so much that he had a new GM—a female one—and that he’d already spoken to her about this villa, this place that held the memories of their fleeting, completely irresponsible minutes together? 

“This new general manager, does she have experience running a property like this?”

Mark nodded. “Yes, quite a bit, actually.”

“And you’re confident she’s a good fit? That she’ll be able to step in without disrupting everything?”

“Ms. Fitzgerald. Grace.” Mark looked like he wanted to grab her hand, to run his thumb across her palm in a way she knew would be so soothing. Grace gripped her sides harder. Mark pursed his lips, but his expression stayed soft. “I’m confident in her capabilities. Very. In fact, I’d go so far to say that she’s the perfect person for the job.”

Grace tried to smile and failed. “Ah, that’s great news. When does she start?”

“Soon, hopefully. I’d like for her to get started right away. But we have to figure out one small thing first.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Well, she hasn’t actually accepted the job.”

“Christ, Mark.” Grace rolled her eyes. “You’re making no sense. How can you have discussed the villa with the new GM if she isn’t even the GM yet?”

Mark chuckled, the low sound dark and thrilling. “Well, Ms. Fitzgerald. As it happens, she’s been so argumentative during our meeting that I haven’t had the chance to offer her the job. But I’m hoping we’re getting to that part.”

Grace was about to respond, her lips already parted, when Mark’s meaning sank in. She rapidly closed her mouth and gave him a hard look.

His blue eyes were serious and steady. “So, what do you say?”

“You’re joking, right? That’s why you asked me up here?” Grace stared. “You better not be fucking around right now, Mark.”

Mark tossed back his head and laughed, the creases fanning out from his eyes, making his angular beauty even more appealing. “Give the woman a hint of power and gone is the last name and out comes the profanity.”

“Uh-uh, don’t change the subject. Are you offering me the job of General Manager of the Seven Winds?”

“Yes.”

His answer was simple, sincere, his eyes as open and clear as they had been the day she’d looked into them from his lap. Damn, was this man going to be trouble. But it was trouble Grace was more than willing to deal with from behind her new desk in the GM’s office.

“I’ve seen your work history, have thoroughly reviewed your résumé. You’ve achieved a lot, Grace. Both here and back home. I think you’re just the person for the role. So, are you accepting the job of General Manager of the Seven Winds?”

“Yes.” She answered so quickly Mark actually looked startled. Like he’d expected her to put up a fight.

“Ok-ay…excellent. Great. Glad that’s sorted.” Mark glanced around, appearing uncertain what to do next.

Grace smiled. She wanted to jump up and down, to shout, to throw her arms around the infuriating man in front of her and squeeze him as hard as she could. But she settled for sticking her hand out and almost laughed when Mark looked at it like it might bite.

“Want to shake on it?”

“Ahhh….” Mark looked from Grace’s hand, up to her face and back down, but made no move to touch her. “Why don’t we wait until the paperwork is signed. Once everything’s official.”

Grace dropped her arm and shrugged. “Sure. Fair enough. When do you want to finalize everything?”

Mark checked his watch before pulling his phone from his pocket. “I have a conference call starting in a few minutes. I’ll come by your office once I’m finished. In two hours or so.”

“Great.” Grace gave him a genuine smile. “I’ll see you then. And, Mark?” She waited until he glanced up from his phone. “Thank you. For considering me for the position, for offering it to me. I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to do this job properly, not just by default. I can’t promise we’ll always see eye to eye, but I do promise to do my best. For the hotel, for the guests, for the team here. And for you.”

Grace kept her spine straight and didn’t let her smile falter as Mark absorbed everything she said. And she refused to react when, at her final words, she saw the sincerity in his eyes cloud with something far darker, distinctly more elemental. For a few moments they just stood there, silently staring, weighing the truce they’d just made against the energy pulsing between them.

When Mark finally spoke, his voice was rough, gravelly. “I am counting on it, Grace.”