My assistant held up a hand. Her pride-and-joy manicured nails gleamed. She had a gorgeous set of French tips, and I had a serious case of envy, mostly because I had no time to get my nails done, and I’d break them if I did.

“If you actually dated, you’d have a greater chance of meeting a man,” Jazmin said.

“Jazz, you know I don’t have time, plus there’s a pretty limited pool around here.” It was one of the few downsides to small-town living.

“You could make the time, especially if you relaxed⁠—”

“I don’t have time to relax.”

She shook her head. “If you relaxed your impossible standards.”

“My standards are not impossible. I want a good guy, with decent employment, who respects me, oh, and loves me.” I couldn’t seem to find that combination, plus I had no time to try.

Jazz sighed.

“Besides, I’m too busy since Langston Hotels bought us. I am too worried that Langston will fly in and wreck everything good about the Windward Resort.”

Jazz’s face turned serious. “I heard he purchased a beachside hotel in Jamaica recently.”

“And?”

“They leveled it.”

I rubbed the pain that flared under my ribs. That was my worst nightmare.

“It was run-down,” Jazz rushed to reassure me. “The Windward Mountain Resort is not.”

“I will do everything to convince him of that.” My tone was vehement. “I don’t want him to change a thing.” Or let any of my people go.

“Honey.” Sympathy filled my assistant’s face. She reached out and gripped my arm. “There will be changes; we can’t help that. But they won’t all be bad.”

I didn’t like change.

Change was waking up and discovering that your parents had died on an icy drive back from Denver. Change was the thing that upended your life and left you feeling adrift.

No, I wouldn’t let Ambrose Langston ruin my hotel, or hurt any of my people.

I’d just have to show him how great it was, just as it stood right now.

2. Ro

Chapter 2

Ro

At the head of the conference table, I sat still with my hands steepled, listening to the construction manager drone on over the video call.

He had plenty of excuses for all of his delays. A muscle ticked in my jaw. My patience was running pretty damn thin.

“I want the construction finished in three weeks, Pierre.” My voice was cutting but I didn’t care. Pierre deserved it. On screen, the man froze. “You’re over time and over budget. I’ve given you plenty of time and leeway, but the guests at the Langston Paris have been inconvenienced enough.”

The man stuttered, full of more excuses.

I detested when people didn’t keep their promises.