Page 9 of Clock Strikes Paradise (Island Escapes #4)

Chapter Seven

Clay

“Right this way, gentlemen, Ms. Briggs,” Evan Markham said in his deep, professional voice as he led us past the check-in counter and down a quiet hallway.

The air was filled with the murmur of guests checking in and the scent of tropical flowers.

Once again, I appreciated Evan’s discretion in letting us avoid the resort’s usual bustle.

“I’ve arranged a private meeting room for you,” he continued, stopping in front of a set of double doors.

Evan pushed the doors open, and I stepped into the room, my gaze sweeping over the space.

It was a spacious, light-filled room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean.

A large mahogany table dominated the room, surrounded by plush leather chairs.

A state-of-the-art video screen was mounted on one wall, flanked by speakers and a podium with a microphone.

A pitcher of cucumber-infused water and a plate of delicate pastries sat on a side table.

“This meeting room is quiet and secluded, perfect for whatever you might need.” He paused, tilting his head toward me. “Let me know if you need anything at all, Mr. Harmon. I’ll make it happen.”

“An impressive set-up for a beach resort,” I said, nodding my approval. “Though we only require the table for our meeting today.”

“Of course,” Evan said, his smile unwavering. “You have my number if you need anything.” With a final nod, he pulled the doors closed behind him, leaving the three of us alone.

Elise crossed to the side table and poured us each a glass of cucumber water, her movements precise and efficient. She placed the glasses on coasters in front of three chairs, then took her own seat near one end of the table. Pulling her laptop from her bag, she opened it and put on her glasses.

“Thank you, Elise,” I said, my gaze lingering on her for a beat too long.

She was the picture of professional composure in her crisp white blouse and navy skirt, her hair neatly twisted into a bun.

Such a contrast to the woman who had laughed beside me on the dive boat that morning, her hair a tangle of sun-kissed waves, her skin glowing with warmth and…

something else I couldn't quite name. The memory sent a jolt of awareness through me, and I frowned, turning to pull my own laptop out and get to the business at hand.

She glanced up with a quick smile. “Of course. I’m ready when you are.”

I pulled out a chair at the head of the table, my gaze sweeping over Bart as he settled into the seat adjacent to me.

He was dressed in a crisp white linen shirt and khaki pants, his hair neatly combed.

A pleasant contrast from his usual rumpled appearance.

He greeted Elise with a respectful nod, his gaze carefully avoiding hers.

I registered this shift with a sense of satisfaction.

My reprimand had clearly had its intended effect.

However, I was surprised by the intensity of my reaction to Bart's behavior earlier.

Though I made no secret of my zero-tolerance harassment policy, his actions earlier had sparked…

I was still struggling to define it. Protectiveness?

I pushed the thought away, determined to maintain my focus. I opened my briefcase and pulled out the competing proposals, spreading them across the table. The familiar numbers and charts were a welcome distraction, their cool logic a comfort against the unfamiliar turmoil of emotion.

“All right,” I said, my voice regaining its usual crispness as I took charge of the meeting. “Let's discuss our two potential buyers, then we’ll move on to the dinner tonight.”

Bart leaned forward, his gaze intent. “Laurent's offer is the most attractive, financially speaking. And something about Celeste Rhodes makes me uneasy.”

“Uneasy how?” I asked, intrigued. Bart's instincts for financial matters were usually sharp, even if his personal behavior left something to be desired.

“She's too… eager to please,” Bart replied, frowning. “It makes me wonder if she's hiding something.”

“Perhaps she's simply a skilled negotiator,” I suggested, though I understood Bart's reservations. Celeste's warmth and charisma were disarming, a stark contrast to Laurent's aloof arrogance.

“Maybe,” Bart conceded. “But I still think we need to proceed with caution. We can't let her charm us into accepting a lowball offer.”

“Agreed,” I said, nodding. “Elise, make a note to verify TechWeb's financial statements. I want to be absolutely certain their numbers are solid.”

“Already on it,” Elise said, her fingers flying across the keyboard of her laptop. “I've also requested a detailed breakdown of their projected revenue over the next five years. I should have that information by this evening.”

“Good,” I said. Elise’s ability to anticipate my needs was one of the things that made her such a valuable asset.

“One more thing,” Elise added, her dark blue eyes meeting mine over the rim of her glasses. “Should we anticipate any counteroffers from either party during dinner tonight?”

“It's possible,” I replied. “We need to be prepared to respond strategically. Bart, I want you to focus on the financial details. I will handle the negotiation tactics and the overall flow of the conversation. Elise, you jump in if you feel the conversation needs a nudge.”

“Understood,” Bart said, nodding curtly.

“Yes, sir,” Elise added.

I took a sip of the cucumber water, the cool liquid refreshing against my palate. The weight of responsibility for this deal was a constant companion, but I thrived on pressure.

Bart and I continued to dissect each element of the two proposals, exploring various scenarios and mapping out our responses. Elise remained attentive, diligently noting our every word.

“Laurent mentioned his interest in expanding Podium into the European market,” Bart said, tapping his finger on a page of his notes. “We might leverage that ambition during the negotiation.”

“Yes. We could—” Elise’s eyes flashed with surprise as her words stopped.

“Could what?” I prompted.

A delicate flush danced across her face. It made me wonder if her skin would feel warmer there. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I got caught up in the excitement. It’s not my place to interject.”

Bart’s lips lifted into a hint of a sneer, which pissed me off. “I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh. Well, I was just thinking that you could counter by highlighting the potential challenges of such an expansion. And that Celeste’s offer eliminates the need for approvals due to foreign ownership simply because TechWeb is a US company.

Laurent might need to be reminded that it's not as simple as replicating Podium's success in a new territory.”

“Excellent point,” I said, intrigued by her strategic thinking.

She quickly took a gulp of water. “Thank you.”

Even Bart looked a little impressed.

Sensing she was still flummoxed, I refrained from pointing out that Laurent’s extensive experience with sports and diverse multinational businesses would make for a rather seamless transition. “Don’t be afraid to speak up. You’re part of the team here.”

When she glanced up from her water and met my eyes, I forgot to breathe for a moment as our gazes held. The sight of her in that swimsuit this morning flashed through my brain before I could get a grip on my runaway mind. Wrenching my eyes away, I brought up the next report on my laptop.

The remainder of our meeting passed quickly.

We analyzed current market trends, debated legal complexities, and brainstormed ways to maximize Podium's value.

Elise ensured every detail was meticulously documented.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the meeting room, I felt a sense of satisfaction. We were prepared .

Ileaned back in my chair, flexing my shoulders to ease the tension that had settled there. “Good work,” I said, my gaze sweeping over Bart and Elise. “We've covered a lot of ground today.”

“Indeed,” Bart agreed. “We’ve got all our bases covered, and I have a feeling we’re about to hit a home run with this sale.”

“I hope you both managed to take some time to enjoy yourselves this afternoon,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.

I blinked, surprised at my own question.

I rarely inquired about the personal lives of my employees, but the words seemed to hang in the air, demanding an answer.

“I did,” Bart replied easily. “Took a walk along the perimeter path. It goes all around the island. Got in some exercise and enjoyed the view. This place is pretty spectacular, even for someone who’s more of a city guy.”

“I spent some time at the pool. Also, I attended a yoga class yesterday at a studio I came across, Calypso Calm.” Elise’s gaze met mine briefly, a tentative smile on her lips. “It was… surprisingly relaxing. A great way to let go of stress.”

Just the thought of contorting into all those positions nearly made me shudder with distaste. Nate, of all people, had told me he enjoyed yoga. I couldn’t fathom any of it. “I find pressure brings out my best work,” I replied, my voice clipped and professional. “I have no need to relieve stress.”

Elise’s smile faltered, and she straightened her belongings absently, her gaze fixed on her closed computer. A sudden awkward silence settled over the room, and what I’d just said came back to me. I’d just reinforced the image of a cold, unfeeling CEO.

The very image Nate had accused me of perpetuating .

“Maybe you should view the people who work for you as, you know, human beings. Not just pieces on a chessboard.” Nate’s words echoed in my mind, a stark and unwelcome reminder. God, was I really that much of an asshole?

“Right,” Elise murmured. She moved her eyes to her notepad, her pen tapping a silent rhythm against the paper.

Bart cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Well,” he said, forcing a jovial tone. “I'm going to make sure I'm looking my best for tonight. Can't have Laurent thinking we're a bunch of beach bums, can we? Is there anything else?”

I was feeling unaccountably flustered about my words, and it took a moment for his question to sink in. I simply shook my head. “Nothing else. Thank you.”

He rose and headed for the door, his escape a palpable relief. As the door clicked shut behind him, I shifted in my seat, the weight of Elise's silence pressing down on me.

“Elise,” I began, my voice rougher than usual. “Your insights during our meeting were excellent. Especially that point about the challenges Laurent will face in Europe.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, but her eyes regained some of their usual glint. “I try to do my best.”

“You’re excellent at what you do,” I said, and a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the tropical climate outside. “And you’re more than welcome to take time for yourself while we’re here, yoga included. In fact, I’m glad you found something you enjoy.”

My attempt to expand on the compliment felt clunky, the words foreign on my tongue.But, dammit, I wasn’t used to expressing regret! And still wasn’t sure I should be—I was the boss, after all. Wait, did I even apologize to her?

I hated emotions.

Then a touch of forgiveness flickered in her eyes, and my chest loosened a little. So maybe my so-called apology wasn’t so bad after all.

“Thank you,” she repeated, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips. “I appreciate that.”

I pushed back my chair and stood, needing to put some distance between us. The air in the room suddenly felt charged, the silence humming with an energy that was new.

“I’m very pleased with how this trip is progressing,” I said, my voice softening. “And with your dedication to keeping everything running smoothly.” It was the truth. Elise had been invaluable in managing the logistics of the trip and anticipating my every need.

“Thank you, Clay,” she replied, her gaze meeting mine directly.

And for some reason, hearing my name on her lips sent a rush of heat straight to my core.

To cover my reaction, I closed my laptop and placed it in my briefcase.

“Let's each take some time to get ready for dinner,” I said, my voice regaining its usual crisp tone.

“I'll see you and Bart at Orchid at six forty-five.”

I turned and strode out of the meeting room, my footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. As I walked back to my cottage, I stretched my tight back. The strategy session had been productive, and I was confident we were well-prepared.

But my thoughts kept returning to Elise.

To the warmth in her eyes, the sincerity of her smile, her presence next to me during the dive that morning.

The memory of those brief moments of connection, of shared laughter and easy conversation, lingered like the floral scent of the bouquet in the living room of my cottage.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the unwelcome distraction.

Focus on the deal .

Yet as I entered my cottage and poured myself a glass of Macallan, I couldn't ignore the flutter of anticipation that stirred within me. Tonight was a critical juncture. If last night’s reception was the introduction, tonight would be the opening set.

But now the night held the promise of something more, something I hadn’t anticipated.

Something I wasn't quite ready to name.