Page 3

Chapter Three

Roman

F lat. Boring. That’s what these designs are. All of them. They’ve been done time and time again.

It doesn’t scream luxury to me, nor does it spark an emotion that makes me feel like I have to stay at this hotel.

I shuffle through the inspirational images and mood boards they have all provided. The amount of gray in these images casts a dull shadow over my mood.

Why are so many designers obsessed with gray these days? There’s nothing luxurious about the color gray.

Our cheapest room goes for twelve hundred a night. Where’s the incentive to pay that kind of money for a minimalistic room with depressing colors?

A knock sounds at my door. My assistant, Dorothy, peeks her head in.

Dorothy has been with me since I started in this position three years ago. It’s not easy being the president and CEO of a billion-dollar company, but she helps keep me afloat.

Not only does she keep me organized, but she isn’t afraid to tell me like it is. And I let her because I respect her.

“Mr. Bertini, Miss Harlow is here.”

“Let her in, Dorothy,” I respond distractedly as I shuffle all the boards in front of me together and place them off to the side.

When I pictured Walker’s sister, I may have visualized his face on a woman’s body. I’ve never claimed to have a great imagination.

What I didn’t expect was for the woman approaching me to be so damn beautiful.

It’s a different type of beauty than what I’m used to seeing in this city.

Most of the women here wear suits tailored to perfection, designer clothing top to bottom, so much makeup that you know there’s a different face underneath, and an air of confidence that dangerously nears the line of conceited.

I stand up and reach across my desk. “Hi, Miss Harlow,” I say as her hand meets mine.

Her smile is soft. “Please, call me Eva.”

“Eva,” I reply. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” she says graciously.

Her plump lips threaten to distract me—something I’m not used to in an interview. This never happens at work. I shift in my seat—a subtle move to reclaim my focus.

“I appreciate you preparing something on such short notice,” I say. “I know this is moving fast, but it’s critical that the project starts immediately.”

“Of course,” she replies, voice steady. But there’s a faint tremble at the end—a hairline crack that gives her away.

“I’m not sure how much Walker shared, but we own a portfolio of luxury hotels across the globe. Our toughest competitor recently underwent a major renovation, and it’s hit our bottom line hard.”

Just saying it reignites the frustration simmering under my skin. I should’ve acted years ago—trusted my instincts instead of letting my father’s endless critiques derail the vision. Now we’re behind, and every move feels like damage control.

“I’m looking for a design that stops people in their tracks. Something bold. Sophisticated. The kind of luxury you don’t find anywhere else.”

She nods with quiet confidence. “I understand. There’s nothing more powerful than making people feel like they’re part of something unforgettable. Especially when it comes to this level of clientele.”

“That’s exactly right,” I reply.

They have all said that. Every designer I’ve interviewed promised the world—unique concepts, bold visions, fresh ideas. But their work? Safe. Predictable. Forgettable.

I glance at her portfolio, propped neatly against the leg of her chair. “Let’s see what you brought. No need to walk me through your background—Walker already gave me the full rundown.”

Her cheeks flush as she bites her lip. “I’m sorry. He can be … intense. I know my connection to him will have no bearing on who you hire.”

Smart answer.

She opens the black case, sliding out several eight-by-ten boards with practiced ease. I lean back, resting my thumb against my chin as she lines them up with a certain focus I can’t help but admire.

A lock of her hair slips forward. She tucks it behind her ear and straightens, those green eyes locking on to mine—brighter than jade, sharper than I expected.

“I studied the hotel’s history here in the city,” she says. “What I designed pulls from its legacy of old Hollywood glamour.”

That catches my attention.

My brows lift. “Go on.”

“The hotel was once a magnet for icons. Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Marilyn Monroe. It wasn’t just a place to stay; it was a place to be seen. When I think of those names, I think timeless… indulgent.”

She gets it.

My father used to brag about that era. The restaurant here was known for its Michelin-starred chef. A live band played every night. The atmosphere had a heartbeat. It was magic.

Somewhere along the way, we lost that.

“Glamour today is different. I want to bring two worlds together—the beauty and charm of the 1950s with the elegance and simplicity of today.”

“And how would you do that?” I ask.

She places the first board down in front of me. “It starts with the color palette. White and cream help keep things neutral. We’ll use those on the walls but bring in contrast with rich wood moldings—like what was used in the ’50s. It softens the space while grounding it.”

I think about the carpet in our current entryway. It nods to old-world glamour, sure, but by today’s standards, it feels heavy. Dated. This? This feels intentional.

She continues, “I’m imagining a gold statement chandelier with cut crystals in the lobby.

Something dramatic that immediately sets the tone.

Gold will be the anchor color, placed where it counts, but never overpowering.

Sapphire blue will be the subtle accent, threading through the design in furniture and decor. ”

The colors work.

I glance down at the board again. “I’m still having a hard time visualizing the full picture.”

She offers a small smile and slides over another board. “This is a mock-up of the lobby layout.”

It’s impressive. I can already see the direction taking shape—elegance, balance, vision.

“The white walls will have moldings a foot wide to create a sense of grandness. There will be white ceiling tiles with intricate carvings. Hanging from those will be a gold chandelier, layered with long crystals, tiered in three sections, each one slightly longer than the last. It’ll cast light across the entire lobby.

And the contrast with the dark wood floors?

” She taps the photo. “It’s striking. Warm but still clean. ”

She’s right. It’s not just beautiful; it’s cohesive. Everything works.

“What about this design makes it feel like the old-world glamour you mentioned?” I ask.

She picks up her final board and slides it forward.

“It’s all in the details. Vintage-style couches.

Accent chairs in deep velvets. Gold and glass coffee and side tables.

And the materials? Rich. Expensive. Intentional.

It’s not just about copying the old; it’s about capturing the feeling of it.

You’re not just stepping into a hotel. You’re stepping into a moment. Something unforgettable.”

I place the third board off to my right and look at all three. A tinge of excitement runs through me as I picture my hotels looking like she just described. Like what is in front of me right now.

The idea of traveling back in time to such a great era but somehow still making it feel simple is perfect.

It’s exactly what we need. Sebastian’s design got the simplicity right, but this is what it’s missing. It’s missing personality. Something that will set it apart from everyone else.

“This is a very good concept. I do like the idea and how you brought it all together. I do have a couple of questions.”

She nods her head slightly. “Okay.”

“When exactly are you ready to get to work on these? I know you haven’t moved to the city just yet.”

“Well, I move in a week. But I am available immediately to go forward.”

“And if I were to hire you, will this take top priority over other clients? I need to know you will be accessible to me.”

The words out of my mouth feel dirty for some reason. Having this beautiful woman accessible to me makes me feel something I shouldn’t.

“I would only take on another client if I knew the work would in no way interfere with your schedule. I will always be available to you.”

Again, my damn body gets confused. She will always be available to me in a professional capacity.

Down, boy.

Great. Now I’m talking to my dick during an interview. Maybe I’m losing my mind.

“Part of the job would be to fly to all the other hotels. Are you up for the travel that this would entail?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I think that’s all I need to know. Thank you for your time. I will be in contact with you when I make my decision.”

She appears a bit caught off guard by the abrupt ending of the meeting. That’s one thing she will have to learn if she works for me—I don’t waste time.

She came here and showed me her designs, and I know she has the time to do the work. I don’t need anything else to make my decision.

We both stand up, and I walk her to the door.

“My assistant, Dorothy, will show you out.”

I nod to Dorothy, who is already getting out of her chair. She is always in sync with when she is needed.

“Well, thank you for the opportunity to meet with you,” she says while extending her hand.

I look down at her delicate hand. When I grab it, my body feels warm and tingly. The feeling is foreign and a bit unsettling. I shake her hand twice and pull mine back quickly.

“Goodbye, Eva.”

I offer a small smile and turn around as Dorothy escorts her out.

The moment they are out of sight, I fall back into my chair and rest my head.

What the fuck was that?

I’ve never had my body respond to a woman in such an inappropriate setting. To make matters worse, it’s my buddy’s little sister.

I look down at her work, and I know this is what I want. Her design is exactly what I’m looking for.

But there’s no way I can work with her if I can’t control my dick when she’s around.

Maybe I was just thrown off. I’d kept picturing Walker’s face on a woman’s body.

That’s it!

Of course I was going to be thrown off when someone like her walked through the door if I had been picturing my stupid friend’s face.

I’m sure the next time I see her, she’ll just be another pretty face. Nothing different.

How it should be.

That makes me feel better. I chuckle to myself at how ridiculous that was. Sporting a boner in the middle of an interview—that’s just insane.

Walker will be thrilled to know I’m picking his sister’s design. I should call him and tell him, but I think it would be more professional to let Eva know first.

I never make these offers myself. Dorothy will be the one to reach out to her once I draw up an offer.

I open up my laptop and decide to email our internal project manager to let her know that we are making an offer.