“A realist. But my job is to make sure nothing goes wrong.”
He led her past a shimmering infinity pool, a rooftop bar, and into a corridor lined with sleek offices. The staff greeted him like gravity—they orbited him, asking questions, handing over folders, waiting for the nod that saidapproved.
His assistant, a petite woman with sharp eyes and a digital tablet clutched like a weapon, intercepted them. “Mr. Hale, the vendor contracts are in your inbox and marketing wants your final approval on the launch campaign. Oh, and New York wants a video call at four. The team requested a dinner meeting to go over some holes.”
One brow shot up. His gaze narrowed. “What holes?”
His assistant blinked. “I’ll find out and pencil them in at five? Mr. Cole is insistent on being part of the meeting.”
She caught the frustration on Everett’s face before it smoothed out. “Find out but hold off on the meeting until I get all details. I’ll talk to Matthew later. Jessica, this is Rowan. Jessica keeps me sane and organized.”
Jessica smiled and offered her hand. “Nice to meet you, Rowan.”
“You, too.” She noticed his assistant’s curiosity, but the woman was an extreme professional and quickly schooled her features into pleasant neutrality.
“I’ll get right on that, sir.” She marched away, already speaking into her earbuds.
Wow. This was next-level business straight out ofSuccession. Everett Hale was running a small empire.
She paused at a framed photo on the wall to get a closer look. In it, a line of volunteers in wetsuits held bags of reef debris, faces sunburned and proud. “The Hoku Foundation. Five percent of our quarterly profits go there. We partner with them for reef cleanups and shoreline restoration. Staff volunteer days every month. The locals needed to see we were serious about trying to give back. We all know what hotels and more tourists take from the island.” He gave a half shrug. “I mapped out a five-year plan to increase not-for-profit donations on an aggressive scale.”
Rowan nodded. Warmth spread in her chest. “I’m glad. That’s the biggest backlash right now with the community and environment.”
“I know it can’t solve the problem here, but we’re all hoping Purity can eventually make a home for itself that revitalizes rather than strips resources.”
His dark eyes dove into hers and she saw the truth there. This was more than throwing some money at foundations to ease a guilty conscience and buy loyalty. Rowan sensed Everett was passionate about the mission.
They reached his office, a wide-windowed corner space overlooking the city and the ocean. The teak desk gleamed with high polish. Several monitors stretched across its length; papers were aligned with military precision. His name was etched in silver on a plaque:Everett Hale, Regional Director.
She walked to the window, palms against the cool glass. The view was beautiful at this height. Rowan imagined feeling as if paradise belonged only to you from the top floor. “You built this.”
He joined her, close enough that his reflection hovered over her shoulder. “I built a version of it. The real credit goes to a few hundred exhausted people who make sure every light bulb works.”
“It’s beautiful,” she admitted. “Precise. Like everything you touch.”
His smile was faint. “You say that like it’s a flaw.”
“No. It’s simply you.” Rowan knew that now. He was so much more than a title or suit. He was a father trying to figure things out and aman who kissed with hungry passion she’d never experienced. He was a person who tried to give when he took.
He was a man she was slowly falling in love with.
Everett didn’t answer or notice the shocking realization she’d just come to. His gaze followed the line of the ocean beyond the glass. “When I was a kid, my father used to time me for everything. Homework, chores, even breakfast. Said efficiency built character. He loathed chaos and failure.”
Rowan leaned against the window. “Did he instill the same expectations in you?”
“I learned to manage them. Numbers, schedules, people—they’re predictable. If you build things right, they stay standing.”
“And if they don’t?”
She turned to face him. His gaze met hers, sharp and soft all at once. “Then you build something else.”
The air between them thickened. She studied his strong, clean jawline. The glossy neatness of his hair. The firm set of his mouth when he was dug deep in thought or analysis. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.
“You really love this,” she said softly.
“I do. But I didn’t at first. I started because it made sense, because perfection meant safety. Somewhere along the way, I started to like giving people a place where things worked. A place that felt like calm.”
Rowan smiled. “You’re basically building therapy with better lighting.”
