Page 10 of Clock Strikes Paradise

“Team bonding, huh?” Nate’s laughter subsided into a low chuckle. “Let me guess, you’ll be discussing quarterly reports and profit margins on the dive boat?”

“We might,” I said dryly. “Unless Elise manages to distract us with a SWOT analysis of the dive operator’s competitive landscape.”

“Ouch,” Nate replied, a wince clear in his voice. “I’m surprised you even included her.”

“She’s an employee,” I said, a touch of defensiveness creeping into my voice. “And part of the team.”

“Right,” Nate said slowly. “A gear in the machine.”

I frowned, and my arm froze with the glass of whisky halfway to my mouth. “What are you trying to say, Nate?”

He sighed. “Maybe you should view the people who work for you as, you know, human beings. Not just pieces on a chessboard.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Elise hasn’t used her dive certification yet, so I figured she’d enjoy the experience. And I’m including Bart too.”

“It means you can be a real asshole.”

“Oh, shut up!” I snapped. “I'm paying for them to enjoy a lavish tropical getaway, complete with gourmet meals and side excursions. I even upgraded Elise to a beachfront cottage, for God’s sake.”

A long beat of silence followed. “Oh, so she’s right next door to you, huh?” A knowing amusement crept into Nate’s voice.

My face flushed, and I frowned, unaccountably flustered. “The decision was entirely logical. Elise has been working nonstop on this deal. It was simply a way to acknowledge her hard work and dedication.”

“And that’s all it was? Just… acknowledgement?”

Confusion, followed by a flash of irritation, coursed through me. “What else would it be? She’s my assistant, Nate, not my girlfriend.”

“Haven’t had one of those in a while, have you?”

“No. Because I’ve been working on the biggest deal of our lives. Remember?”

“Uh-huh. And now we’re back to the fact that youseriously need to loosen up and enjoy yourself a little. And stop treating people like they’re disposable.”

“The three of us are goingdivingtomorrow. In crystal clear, tropical water. Does that sound like I’m a tyrant?”

“Oh yeah, you’re a real soft touch, Clay,” he replied, a grin lacing his voice. “I bet hanging out with their billionaire, driven boss is exactly what Bart and Elise have in mind when they think about enjoying themselves. Living the dream, man.”

Despite myself, I burst out laughing and all my irritation dissolved. “You’re such a dick, Nate.”

“That’s why you love me,” he replied with a laugh. “I keep it real, whether you like it or not. Listen, I’ve got to run. Camille is waving a running shoe at me, and I bailed on our last run. So I’ve got no excuse this time. We’ll see you in a few days. Enjoy yourself tomorrow, okay?”

“I will. Enjoy your run,” I said, already picturing Camille’s stately but slightly rundown Connecticut farmhouse that stood next to our childhood home. Despite Nate’s self-deprecation, his blown-out knee was healing well, and he could outrun me any day of the week without even trying. “See you both soon.”

I ended the call, and the warmth of our exchange faded, leaving a familiar sharp edge in its wake. As I set the phone down on the side table, my smile vanished. I rose and approached the mirror, adjusting my cuffs and smoothing my suit jacket. Gone was the playful brother, replaced by the man who built a multi-billion-dollar empire.

I was Clay Harmon, CEO of Podium, which was only a part of Harmon Enterprises. And I was ready for battle.

Chapter Six

Elise

The private diningroom at Orchid Restaurant hummed as I circulated, the room bustling with energy and laughter. I scanned the small crowd, taking in our two bidders with their entourages mingling amidst the soft clinking of wine glasses. My eyes landed on Clay, back to looking every bit the CEO in his black custom suit. Except tonight he’d added a tropical hint with a turquoise tie. The errant lock of hair was again suitably tamed as he held a glass of Cabernet in one hand. I didn’t need to make any comparisons. He was easily the best-looking man in the room.

Clay had an effortless way of commanding attention, a magnetism that drew people in. My own outfit, a white blouse, tailored gray skirt, and black pumps, felt simple by comparison, but it would do for the professional image I wanted to maintain.

As I sipped my dry Riesling, I reflected on my surroundings. Our private venue for tonight was gorgeous. Partiallyopen to the warm air, the heavenly scent of nearby colorful orchids drifted throughout. An open bar sat in the corner and two tables of gourmet hors d'oeuvres stretched along one wall.

“Your cottage looks lovely,” said Sophie, Laurent’s assistant, as she joined me. Also dressed for work, she held something fruity and tropical in one hand. “Lucky you. I’m sharing a garden bungalow with another of Laurent’s hangers-on.”