Michael slipped in like a ghost, setting cool bottles of water on the table without a word. Then Nick entered, cutting across the room in long, confident strides. Like the CEO he was—although he occasionally appeared more like an off-duty Navy SEAL than a Wall Street executive. He sank into the center throne without hesitation. Yep. Definitely the power seat. Zach and David flanked him but avoided the central placement, leaving a space between them like an invitation—or a warning.
Lena appreciated it. She wasn’t prepared to stand trial today.
“Okay,” Nick laced his fingers in front of him, sharp-eyed and tense. “Break it down. What the fuck is going on around here?”
Lena startled. Not at the curse—but at hearing it from Nick. The man was unnervingly polished with employees, always professional in a way that screamed ruler-and-staff separation. But this wasn’t a staff meeting voice. This was real. Raw. Personal. Which meant—he was letting her see that version of himself. Like David had when he panicked at the crash site.
Her spine straightened. She could do this.
“I’ve been logging everything weird that’s happened,” she began, her voice steady, though her heart hammered beneath her collarbone. “At Zach’s suggestion, I went back through the last week—every time something felt off. I made notes—calls, items out of place, gifts, that sort of thing. It’s in a file on my desktop.”
She looked toward David. “Is that computer connected to the network? Can I open it from here?”
“I’ve got it.” He touched the screen of his ever-present tablet. The monitor flashed once, then displayed her spreadsheet in large typeface for all to see.
Lena didn’t miss the sideways glances from Nick and Zach. Their attention flicked from David’s tablet to his steady hands to her—assessing. Measuring
Plenty, boys. She wasn’t a guest in this room.
“Thanks,” she nodded toward the monitor. “I put things in Excel so they’d be easier to sort. David, can you set it in date order?”
The spreadsheet updated instantly.
“Okay, so, the first thing I noted…”
She guided the men through her timeline. Details spilled out—small calls she had only remembered when retracing her steps, the way her window had been open when she remembered shutting it, the silky red ribbon tied around the doorknob ofher cottage, the sandaled footprints too large to be hers outside her patio. Phone calls at odd hours, missed alarms, and that nauseating awareness of being watched.
When she finally leaned back in her chair and exhaled, finished, she was wrung out. Turned inside out and shaken up.
“That’s it,” she said, softer now. “It’s not a lot. But it’s what I’ve got.”
She hated the embarrassment heating her cheeks. A voice in the back of her head muttered that it wasn’t enough. That she was being dramatic. But another, louder voice—the angry one that had watched death come sideways in a golf cart—was done minimizing things.
“Honestly, there could be more. Women… we’re used to this crap. Creepy stares, rude comments. We ignore a lot of it because we have to, in order to function. If we didn’t… we’d lose our minds.”
Zach’s focus was unreadably sharp, like he was etching her words into his bones. “That’s actually quite good, Lena.”
But it was Nick who surprised her.
“You raise an important point,” he said, slow and thoughtful, his usual formality mixed with something rougher. “Something we wouldn’t have considered.”
He turned to Zach. “Put it on Emma and Gail’s radar. I want to make damn sure our company culture doesn’t blind us to aggressive male behavior masquerading as ‘friendly.’ We shouldn’t treat that as normal. I want our properties safe and comfortable for the women who work and stay at them.”
Lena stared at him a beat longer than she should’ve. Unexpected respect rose in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was his reaction or the sudden realization that he understood how dangerous someone’s casual dismissal could be. Either way—she had underestimated him.
Zach broke the reverent moment with a clear, professional tone. “David, send me a copy of that Excel file.”
“Done.” David’s eyes cut toward her. “I’m gonna need to use your phone to track those calls. Can you work in my office this afternoon? I’ll be able to do it faster that way—and I know you can’t be without it too long.”
“Yes, of course,” her heart lifted—almost irrationally—at the idea of spending the afternoon tucked away in David’s high-tech cave. It had no windows, but it had him. And today, that felt more secure than sunlight and sand. “I have schedules to finish. Any workstation will do.”
Nick leaned forward a little, the meeting shifting gears. “Zach, do you have any reason to believe Kate’s still a target?”
Lena’s stomach tightened.
“No,” Zach replied. “None of the signs point that way. If anything, it’s like we’re dealing with a new operation now.”
“Maybe we are,” Lena’s breath hitched as the attention of all three men snapped to her.
