Isla barely had a moment to settle into her temporary office before the chaos began.
She had just placed her tablet on the glass desk when her phone buzzed with a message from Grayson Sinclair's assistant.
Boardroom. Five minutes.
No explanation. No pleasantries. Just a command.
She smirked. Typical.
With a final glance at her reflection in the office window, she adjusted the cuff of her blazer and strode toward the boardroom. If Grayson thought he could intimidate her with power moves, he was in for a surprise.
The moment she stepped inside, every conversation in the room stilled.
A long, polished conference table stretched through the center, lined with executives—all men, all in tailored suits. The only empty seat was at the far end, directly opposite Grayson.
Of course.
He was already seated, his suit impeccable, a silver watch glinting against his wrist. When he saw her, something flickered in his storm-gray eyes. Not quite a welcome, not quite dismissal—but something dangerous in between.
"Miss Carter," he said smoothly. "Nice of you to join us."
She didn't miss the taunt in his voice.
She held his gaze and took her seat. "You did summon me, after all."
A few executives shifted uncomfortably. No one spoke to Grayson Sinclair like that.
His lips curled slightly. Game on, indeed.
He turned to the others, his tone sharp and businesslike. "Since the board has decided we need outside interference, Miss Carter is here to assess our financials and ensure the company's stability."
Outside interference?
Isla folded her hands on the table. "I prefer the term strategic expert—but call it what you like."
A few of the men coughed to cover their amusement.
Grayson's jaw tightened just slightly. "Then let's hear it. What's your brilliant plan to 'save' Sinclair Enterprises?"
She could feel his challenge, the undercurrent of dominance and resistance.
He was testing her.
She met his gaze head-on. "For starters, your current investments are reckless. Two major acquisitions in the last quarter—both at high risk, and neither bringing in the projected returns."
One of the executives shifted uncomfortably. "That's true, sir. We've seen a—"
Grayson cut him off with a look before turning back to her. "And what would you suggest?"
"Reevaluating your board structure." She leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but unwavering. "Your biggest problem isn't the acquisitions, Mr. Sinclair. It's the people advising you."
A thick silence settled over the room.
A few executives exchanged glances. They knew she was right.
Grayson, however, just stared at her. Unmoving. Unreadable.
Then—he chuckled. Low. Amused. Dark.
"That's bold, Miss Carter."
Isla tilted her head. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"
Grayson leaned forward slightly, just enough that only she could hear his next words. "Both."
The air between them crackled.
Neither moved. Neither blinked. Neither gave in.
Then, after a long, tense beat, Grayson turned back to the table. "Let's continue."
But Isla knew one thing.
She had his attention now.
And that?
That was exactly what she wanted.
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