They’d died when I was eight. Grief wound around my chest. I touched the bracelet on my wrist. It was a pretty, delicate twist of citrine, garnet, peridot, and blue topaz that my parents had given me at that last birthday dinner. Just days after, they’d been gone. The grief never went away. It had lost some of the sharpest edges, but I thought of them all the time. A grieving eight-year-old was a lot for a twenty-year-old to inherit, but Aunt Emily had never wavered. She’d kept up the birthday dinner tradition at the resort to this very day.

My phone dinged. I pulled it out and rolled my eyes. I’d been doing that a lot lately. Every time I got an email from Ambrose Langston. I was surprised I hadn’t sprained my optic nerve.

Subject: Staffing Reports

Ms. Ashford,

Where are the staffing reports I requested? I asked that they be sent to me today.

Regards,

Ambrose Langston

Using two fingers, I furiously typed on my phone. I’d stayed up late working on the damn reports he’d requested.

Mr. Langston,

It is still today. As I always intended, I will email them…by the close of business today.

Have a wonderful day,

Tessa Ashford

Ms. Ashford,

I am aware of the day.

Ensure the reports aren’t late.

Regards,

Ambrose Langston

I rolled my eyes again and muttered a few choice words. Lucky Langston wasn’t in the vicinity or his ears would be burning. I scrolled through my emails to see he’d emailed me four times through the night with other requests. Did the man not sleep? Maybe he was part-cyborg. He didn’t need to sleep, just plug in and recharge his battery occasionally, like Emily’s electric car.

I also spotted more emails coming in. Most were from my assistant with questions about the masquerade. I needed to get to work.

Charlotte set my coffee on the counter. “There you go.”

I snatched it up, sucking in the delicious scent. “Thanks, Charlie. You’re a lifesaver.”

“So…” She leaned in. “Is he as gorgeous as he looks in photos?”

I wrinkled my nose and sipped my drink. Ahh, sweet, sweet caffeine. I knew exactly who she was talking about. “Who?”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “The billionaire hotel magnate hottie who bought your resort. Ambrose Langston.”

“Oh, him.”

Scion of Langston Hotels Group who owned fabulous resorts and hotels around the world, workaholic cyborg, and the man who held the fate of my hotel in his hands. Suddenly, my latte didn’t taste quite as good. “He’s attractive, yes. I’ve only met him once.”

He’d flown in and spent two hours at the resort when he’d been considering buying it. Who only needed two hours to decide whether to spend millions and millions of dollars?

I didn’t have millions, so I had no idea.