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“Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Well, then—”

“Look, Greta,” Grace read her name on the tag hanging off the front of her pale yellow blouse. Not a very clever choice to gowith her red-haired skin, but Grace was not there to dispense style advice. “Zac is expecting me. Now do yourself a favor and don’t delay me any further.”

“And your name is, ma’am?” Greta inquired with practiced condescension.

“Grace Michaels; Brazen Inc.”

“Oh…” Contempt slid off the woman’s face to be replaced by a kind of awe.

Grace could not resist a cocky line. “Heard of me, have you?”

“Yes. Yes, Ms. Michaels. But Mr. Wills really cannot—”

Grace turned around and clicked her fingers on her way to the elevator. The receptionist must have reached the conclusion that she would rather deal with a reprimand later than a pissed-off Grace Michaels in person. Wise choice, indeed. Grace treated her to a sly smile before the private elevator doors closed.

“Thank you, Greta.”What a good girl,she almost purred.

Oh, she was pumped! Whoever thought they could resort to dirty tricks to steal what she had worked so hard for was in for a rude awakening. Wills’s private secretary greeted her on the top floor with a friendly, if slightly alarmed, smile.

“Ms. Michaels. We weren’t expecting you…”

“Yeah, I know.” Grace pointed with a long-nailed finger, painted blood-red like the Ferrari. “Conference room this way, right?”

“Yes… But—Ms Michaels, if you could just wait a minute, please…”

“Sorry, no.”

chapter 2

Grace powered down the corridor, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the unimaginative surroundings. Muted colors, gray carpets, anemic plants languishing in corners on mismatched furniture... Generic world, she decided. Desperately corporate, uninspired, and deflated. No wonder Wills had been so enthusiastic about her designs and ideas for renovation if he was forced to come to work every day in this dreary place. And their hotels were the same, Grace knew. She would inject a much-needed breath of fresh air to the Excelsior brand, add vibrancy and flair to their hotels, and upgrade their outdated way of thinking at the same time. Business would be flowing again in no time.

“Ah, here it is, yes.”

“Ms. Michaels, if you would just let me announce you…”

Ignoring the secretary’s request as she trotted behind her to match her longer strides, Grace pulled open the double doors of the conference room and let her body language announce her arrival. When she stepped through, she did so with just the right mix of calculated restraint and fiery energy. Nobody would fail to realize that she was here to take command.

“Hello, gentlemen.” She flashed a hard smile, hands on hips, as all eyes turned to her.

“Grace.” An irritated-looking Zac Wills stepped forward to greet her with a firm handshake. “Please, join us.”

“Yes, I believe I will.”

His accountant and three of the directors from the Excelsior board delivered looks as bland as their matching three-piece suits. Grace groaned inwardly. Yes, it was fitting. They all pretty much matched the décor. She turned to face the only other woman in the room, who certainly did not favor bland. She was dressed in a violent-blue pencil skirt and crisp white shirt over a set of ample breasts, which she obviously took care to highlight. Okay, then. Now it all made a lot more sense.

“Well, well,” Grace stated with an amused sneer. “Kathryn Charles, I presume? Or should I call you Katya Barnett? Which is it, darling?”

If looks could kill, Grace would be reduced to mere bones from the way the woman, who turned aggressively to face Wills, first stared.

“What are you doing?” she barked. “This was supposed to be a private negotiation.”

Before he could reply, Grace let out a darkly ironic chuckle. “Yes, I’m sure you wanted it to be. Sorry, babe, but it looks like you’ve lost your chance.”

Wills’s patience seemed to be growing thin as he glanced from one woman to the other. Grace could empathize.