Chapter 3: The Collision Course
Audrey
At 1:55 PM, the sky over the mountains was a brilliant, crisp blue, and the autumn leaves burned in shades of gold and crimson. The Whispering Pines Inn looked picture-perfect.
"Everything is spotless in the lobby, Audrey," said Clara, my head housekeeper, wiping her hands on her apron. "The coffee is fresh, the pastries are out. Whoever this CEO is, he's going to fall in love with the place."
"Thank you, Clara. You're a lifesaver," I smiled, nervously adjusting the collar of my blazer.
A heavy, rhythmic thumping echoed through the valley, growing louder. I frowned, stepping out onto the wrap-around porch. A sleek, black helicopter was descending toward the open meadow we occasionally used for overflow parking.
A helicopter? For a quaint bed-and-breakfast acquisition?
My stomach gave a strange, violent lurch. The hospitality group I had been dealing with was called Vanguard Holdings. They were wealthy, sure, but this felt aggressive. Too corporate.
As the rotors spun down, a black SUV that had been waiting nearby drove up to the meadow, collected the passengers, and began winding its way up the gravel driveway toward the inn.
Inside the house, I could hear the twins giggling wildly. Mrs. Higgins was chasing them down the hallway.
"Boys, keep it in the playroom!" I called out, my voice tight with nerves.
The black SUV pulled to a stop at the base of the porch stairs. The driver stepped out and opened the back door. First, a man in a gray suit stepped out, holding a leather briefcase. Marcus Vance, I assumed.
Then, the second man stepped out.
He was tall. Impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair was styled, but a few strands caught in the autumn wind.
He turned his head.
The air in my lungs vanished. The ground beneath my feet tilted.
Julian.
It was Julian.
Four years hadn't changed the sharp, aristocratic line of his jaw or the intense, commanding presence he carried. But he looked harder, older. There were dark circles under his slate-gray eyes, a harshness to his features that hadn't been there before.
Panic, pure and absolute, paralyzed my limbs. Vanguard Holdings. Vanguard. It was a shell company. A subsidiary. How had I been so stupid? I hadn't researched deep enough into the corporate umbrella.
I wanted to run. I wanted to turn around, lock the heavy oak doors, and flee out the back with my children. But my feet were glued to the wooden floorboards of the porch.
Julian walked up the first two steps, his eyes focused on his phone. He wasn't even looking at me.
"Ms. Hayes, I presume?" the first man, Marcus, asked with a polite smile, reaching the top of the stairs.
Julian’s head snapped up at the sound of the greeting.
May you like
He looked at me.
Time stopped. I watched the phone slip from his hand, clattering violently against the wooden stairs.
