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While I’d stayed here for two nights before Lila and Brynn arrived, and had seen the place at this time of night before, I’d never caught it at just this moment—the golden hour.

“Well, I gotta hand it to you,” Lila said. “I think you were right about taking this job.”

Even though my guts were roiling, I felt the slightest glimmer of satisfaction. “Of course I was. I’m always right about what jobs to take.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Please. What about the bagel empire on Long Island?”

“It wasn’t my fault they went out of business. They didn’t take any of our advice. We did get free bagels while it lasted, though.”

But Lila was serious now. “I’m worried about you, Blake. And Goldman is cutting it close these days, going after our best prospects.”

Irritation shot through me. That little spark of a positive mood vanished. “I’m well aware. I have faith in this project, okay? And you should too.”

I was tempted to show her my bank accounts to prove my point.

My accountant had been horrified when I’d told him what I was doing. He’d advised me strongly against leveraging my personal assets, but I told him the deal was already done.

“So let me get this straight,” he’d said over a video call. “You’re paying for everything until you get this place on its feet again. There’ll be a gap, too, from when you finish your work and the resort begins earning the kind of money it needs to.”

“Yes,” I said. I’d explained everything to him except the reason I was doing it this way.

He’d shaken his head in disbelief, but in the end, it was my business, my money.

Now, a heaviness slid back over me as once more I thought about the gravity of this situation—how deep I’d gotten myself. It wasn’t a guaranteed success. Nothing ever was, and with the way Cassandra felt about me, it was more possible than ever that this whole thing could go sideways. That would not only cost me a shit-ton of money, but the goal I’d been working toward since the beginning.

100 companies saved.

Proof I was a success.

The 100thcompany a resort.

Proof I could do better than him. If I failed at this project, my father would know. He’d never let me forget it.

But I couldn’t think about that. I needed to appear hopeful for this dinner. Excited about the project ahead. Not worrying I’d already fucked it up.

I clenched and unclenched my fists.

While Lila walked the length of the window, peering around the lobby, I adjusted my cufflinks, turning to glance at the clock over the check-in desk. This dinner was going to be fine. This project was going to be fine. I’d taken plenty of business risks before. I’d handled disastrous situations before, too. Whatever happened, I could handle it.

Then the front doors swished open.

What I wasn’t sure I could handle was Cassandra Kelly, looking like sex on a goddamned stick. I had to restrain myself from groaning. Every image I’d had of her over the past few days paled when I saw her before me.

Cassandra walked shoulder to shoulder with her sister. Chelsea was objectively very pretty too, but Cassandra—I realized it right at that moment—she was my fucking kryptonite.

She’d poured herself into a dress that hugged her hourglass figure like a glove. Hers wasn’t the barbie-style hourglass, but a fuller, more luscious give-me-a-handful kind of shape that evoked some caveman gene in my brain. But it wasn’t just how she looked that made heat pool in my abdomen. It was the way she held herself—shoulders back, chin up, eyes scanning the massive space and not missing a beat. Heads turned as she passed, and I felt the strangest kind of protectiveness when I saw the men eyeing her.

Really, I felt like growling like a goddamn guard dog.

She hadn’t seen us yet, so I could watch her with at least a little impunity.

“Jesus, Blake,” Lila hissed, back at my side.

Except I’d forgotten about Lila.

Lila inserted her arm into mine. “Maybe try not to look like you want to eat her for breakfast?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “She just looks different.”