The Rival Hearts

Chapter 1

In business, there are two types of people: predators and prey. I've always been the predator, because trust is a gamble—and I never play games I can't win. Running a hotel empire demands it. You can't afford to lose—not money, not trust, and certainly not control.

I leaned back in my mahogany chair, the skyline sprawling beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office. My red dress hugged my curves, and my dark hair was swept into a French bun—poised and perfect, just like everything else about my life. Or so I made sure it seemed.

"Mr. Willis is here to see you," my assistant, Jones, announced through the intercom.

"Send him in," I replied, my fingers lightly brushing the engraved nameplate on my desk—Isabella Armstrong, President of Hotel Ocean Blue.

Mr. Willis, one of my father's trusted employees, entered, his nervousness palpable.

"You wanted to see me, Isabella?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," I said coolly. "Care to explain this?" I slid a file across the desk.

His eyes widened as he glanced at the contents, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.

"I... I can explain..."

"You've been embezzling funds. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

He remained silent, avoiding my gaze.

"You're fired," I said. "Security will escort you out. I suggest you retain legal counsel."

His face turned pale. "You can't do this! I've worked here for years. I helped your father build this company—"

"So you thought that excused embezzlement? I can tolerate incompetence, but not theft."

He looked defeated. "Your father wouldn't do this. He'd give me a second chance."

"I'm not my father. I don't give second chances, Mr. Willis. Be grateful I'm not having you taken out in handcuffs."

He stood, his white hands forming fists. "You're a merciless bitch who values no one but herself. Mark my words, someday you'll be at the mercy of others."

I eyed him coolly. "All I care about is that you're making me late for an award."

Security arrived, and he left with them. Seconds later, Jones rushed in and tapped his watch.

"Five minutes."

My eyes widened. "Shit." I got up from the chair and grabbed my purse. "Is the car ready?" I started for the door, and he followed me out.

"Yes, Steve is waiting—"

"No, not Steve. Tell him to get the red Porsche ready. I want to drive myself tonight."

He chuckled. "Did Lewis say something?"

My lips curved. "Something about me being a merciless stuck-up bitch," I said, pushing the buttons to call the elevator. "Then I realised he was wrong. I'm a woman who loves power and values honesty. Apparently, being upfront about who you are is a crime.

The doors opened, and we walked inside the elevator. I turned around and faced the mirror, checking my makeup. In fact, I looked like I had just finished doing my makeup, so at least I didn't get creases over the duration of the time I spent talking to Lewis.

"Oh, no," came Jones' loud groan beside me.

I turned. "What?"

He quickly put his phone down. "Nothing."