The Wrong Kind of Feeling

Chapter Two

Zara told herself the outfit did not matter.She told herself that three times while standing in front of her closet at eight fifteen in the morning, then put on the black blazer anyway. The one with the sharp shoulders. The one she wears to meetings where she needs people to take her seriously before she opens her mouth.

She was not nervous. She was prepared. There was a difference.

She repeated that in her head the whole drive over.

WolfeGroup Holdings occupied the top four floors of a building in Midtown that looked like it had been designed to make people feel small.

Zara walked in anyway.

The lobby was all dark marble and low light. Quiet in a way that felt intentional, like even the air had been told to behave. A security desk sat at the far end, staffed by two men in suits who did not look like regular security. They looked like men who had been asked to look like regular security.

She gave her name. Showed her ID. Signed a visitor form on a tablet with a stylus that probably cost more than her first car.

A woman in a grey dress came to collect her. No small talk. Just a nod and a walk to the elevator. Zara used the ride up to straighten her folder, check her notes one more time, and remind herself that she had done nothing wrong. The contract cancellation was not her fault. She was here to fix a problem, not apologize for one.

The elevator opened on the thirty-second floor.

More quiet. A long hallway with doors on either side, all of them closed. Thick carpet that absorbed the sound of her heels. At the end of the hall was a set of double doors, and in front of those doors sat a man at a desk who looked up when she approached and said, simply, "Ms. Mensah. He is ready for you."

He. Not Mr. Wolfe. Not the CEO. Just he, like there was only one person in the building worth referring to that way.

The assistant opened the doors.

Zara walked in.

The office was large without trying to show off about it. Floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides with a view of Atlanta that went all the way to the horizon. A desk made of dark wood that was clear except for a single open laptop and a glass of water. Bookshelves along one wall, actually used, not decorative.

The man standing at the window had his back to her.

He was tall. That was the first thing. Not in a way that felt accidental, but in the way of someone who had grown into their size and stopped thinking about it. Dark suit, no tie, one hand resting at his side. He was looking at the city like he was deciding something about it.

Then he turned.

Zara had looked him up. She thought she knew what to expect.

The photograph had not gotten his eyes right. They were dark, almost black, and when they landed on her she felt it the same way you feel the temperature change when you step outside. Not threatening. Just present. Fully, completely present, like the entire room had rearranged itself around where his attention was pointed.

He looked at her for one second longer than was normal.

She did not let herself blink first.

"Ms. Mensah," he said. His voice was low and even. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for seeing me," she said. "I will be honest with you. I was surprised it was you."

Something shifted in his expression. Not quite a reaction. More like the edge of one.

"Sit down," he said, and walked to his desk.

She sat. Put her folder on her knee. Waited while he settled into his chair with the particular stillness of someone who never rushed because they never had to.

"You had a contract with Regal Hotel Group," he said.

"I have a contract," she said. "Present tense. Your operations director called it cancelled but a cancellation that violates the spirit of an agreement is still worth challenging. I am here to make that case before I involve my attorney."

He was quiet for a moment. Watching her.

"You did your research," he said.

"I always do."

He picked up a single sheet of paper from his desk. She recognized it from across the room. Her contract. He had printed it out and actually read it. She could see the handwritten notes in the margins.

"The cancellation was a mistake," he said.

She blinked. She had not expected it to be that simple.

"A low-level manager flagged third-party contracts for review and yours was cancelled automatically before anyone with authority looked at it. That person no longer works here." He set the paper down. "Your contract stands. I will have my legal team send you a written confirmation by end of day."

Zara sat with that for a second.

She had come in here with a twelve-point argument. She had rehearsed it in the car. She had a printed backup in the folder on her knee.

She had not prepared for him to simply agree with her.

"That is it?" she said.

"That is it."

She studied his face. It gave nothing away. But something about the way he was looking at her felt like it was giving everything away, and she could not explain why she thought that.

"You are a CEO of a four-billion-dollar company," she said slowly. "You personally reviewed a contract dispute with a one-woman event planning business. Why?"

He did not answer right away. He turned the glass of water on his desk a quarter turn. A small movement, deliberate, like he was choosing his next words the way you choose which door to open.

"Because the error happened on our end and I prefer to handle things directly."

It was a perfect answer. Professional. Reasonable. Completely unrevealing.

She almost believed it.

"I appreciate that," she said. She stood and extended her hand. "I will look out for the confirmation."

He stood too and shook her hand.

The moment his hand closed around hers she felt something she had no name for. Not a shock exactly. More like recognition, which made no sense because she had never met this man before in her life. She pulled her hand back after exactly the right amount of time and told herself it was the strange energy of the building.

She picked up her folder. Turned toward the door.

"Ms. Mensah."

She stopped. Turned back.

He was still standing behind his desk. Looking at her with those dark, unreadable eyes.

"I would like to offer you an expanded contract. Exclusive event services for WolfeGroup Holdings for the next twelve months. All properties, all events. The number would be significant."

Zara stared at him.

She had come in here to save one event. He was offering her a year.

"Why?" she said again, because it was the only word that made sense right now.

The edge of something crossed his face. Not quite a smile.

"Because you walked in here ready to fight a company four hundred times your size and you were not scared. I want that kind of person working with us."

It was a good answer. A real answer, she thought.

She should have said she needed time to think about it. She should have said she would have her attorney review the terms. She should have done a dozen sensible things that she would have advised any other business owner to do.

Instead she said, "Send me the terms. If they are fair, I am in."

She left.

In the elevator going down, alone, she pressed her back against the wall and let out a slow breath.

Her hand was still warm where he had touched it.

She looked down at it like it belonged to someone else.