Bellamy POV
“From now on, you’ll be working with Tristan on a project,” Max had told me earlier that morning, just before I stepped into the elevator. His tone was casual, but there was something strange in his smile—something unreadable.
So now here I was, standing in front of the door marked Tristan Forsythe – Executive Office. I hadn’t been here before. I’d only been working at Forsythe Enterprises for three weeks, and up until now, all my briefings had been with Max.
Max’s office was exactly what I imagined from someone like him—bright, full of sunlight, white marble floors, glass walls, and minimalist furniture that screamed “wealth” in a very curated kind of way. It looked like a showroom. Cold but beautiful.
Tristan’s office? The second I opened the door after knocking and hearing his gruff “Come in,” I knew this room belonged to someone different.
It was darker. Not in a depressing way—but in a quiet, almost heavy kind of way. The lighting was warm, not bright. The walls were lined with dark wood panels, bookshelves, and old paintings. There was a scent of cedar and something faintly smoky in the air.
Tristan sat near the window, half-turned toward the city skyline. A thin line of smoke curled from the cigarette between his fingers. He looked over at me, his eyes unreadable. The only light touching him came from the half-closed blinds behind him.
“Good morning,” I said, stepping in, keeping my voice even. “I heard I’m working on a project with you?”
He put out his cigarette in a black glass ashtray and motioned to the chair across from him. “Yes. Take a seat.”
I did. The chair was soft, but I sat stiffly, trying not to look too intimidated.
He leaned back slightly and looked at me like he was trying to figure me out. “It’s called Project Eden,” he said finally. “A secluded island resort my parents started before they passed. It’s failing.”
I blinked. “A resort?”
“Yes. It was supposed to be their legacy project. Luxury meets sustainability. A place to disappear from the world. But everything’s falling apart now. Poor management. Zero marketing. Bad reviews.”
I nodded slowly, my brain already racing with ideas. “And you want to rebrand it?”
“I want you to rebrand it,” he said. “Start from the inside. Financial structure. Guest experience. Presentation. Everything. I need a fresh perspective. Someone who doesn’t think like my brother.”
His words surprised me. “All right,” I said. “I can do that.”
He stared at me a second longer, then nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
Then his tone shifted. “Once the project’s complete, you’ll return to working with Max. That was the agreement.”
“Got it,” I said, my heart sinking a little. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I was finally feeling like I belonged somewhere. Maybe because a small part of me had started noticing the way Tristan looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
“While we work on this, I expect your full focus,” he added. “You’ll need to understand every layer of the resort—numbers, history, brand identity. We’ll go over everything in person.”
I paused. “In person?”
He nodded. “We’re spending the weekend on the island.”
My eyes widened. “Oh. Really?”
His lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile. “Yeah. I’m not going to babysit this thing from a boardroom. If you’re rebranding Eden, you’re going to know Eden.”
I swallowed. “Right. Makes sense.”
He stood up and walked around the desk, stopping just in front of me. “We leave tomorrow morning. Pack light but smart. We’ll be there two nights.”
I nodded quickly, standing up too. “Understood.”
“Good.” He turned back toward his desk and lit another cigarette, not bothering to offer a goodbye.
I took that as my cue to leave.
—
As I stepped out of Tristan’s office, my heart was still beating a little too fast. Maybe it was the way he spoke—so direct, so serious.
I walked down the hallway, trying to collect my thoughts, when Max’s office door suddenly opened. A tall blonde woman with blood-red lips and impossibly high heels stepped out, holding her phone in one hand and a folder in the other. She looked like money—hair that bounced perfectly, perfume that probably cost more than my entire outfit.
She spotted me instantly. Her eyes narrowed.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion and just the right amount of venom. Her gaze flicked behind me—toward Tristan’s office. She’d seen me come from there.
I stopped, confused. “I’m an employee here,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Her eyes slowly scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my shoes like they offended her personally. I felt like I was being x-rayed by pure judgment. I straightened my back and met her gaze, refusing to shrink under it.
Before she could say anything else, Max appeared in the doorway behind her.
“Lily,” he said sharply, voice clipped. “Don’t harass my employees.”
Lily turned her head with a scoff, rolled her eyes dramatically, and strutted toward the elevator like she owned the whole floor.
Max turned to me with a light chuckle and raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, still a bit thrown off. “She’s… intense.”
He smirked. “She’s just dramatic. We used to date. She likes showing up unannounced.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say to that.
There was a pause. Then, Max tilted his head a little and asked, “You want to grab lunch together?”
“Oh—uh, thank you,” I said quickly, “but I still have some work I need to finish—”
Before I could finish the sentence, Max was already pulling out his phone and dialing. He spoke to the receptionist like it was routine.
“Yes, can you let anyone looking for Bellamy Beau know she’ll be out for lunch—with me.” His tone was smooth, almost too casual.
My mouth opened slightly in protest, but nothing came out.
He put the phone away and grinned. “Come on. I know a nice little café down the road. Quiet, great coffee.”
I hesitated. My instincts told me not to get too close. Not with him. But the way he smiled, the way he carried himself—it was like gravity. Hard to push against. So I gave in, just a little.
“Alright,” I said softly. “Just lunch.”
We walked to the elevator in silence, side by side. When the doors opened, I stepped inside, and Max followed.
But just as the elevator doors began to close, I saw him.
Tristan.
He had just walked out of his office, his shirt sleeves rolled up, holding a file in one hand. He looked up at the elevator and locked eyes with me.
His brows furrowed. His steps slowed. And something shifted in his eyes. Something I couldn’t name. Confusion? Disappointment?
Possession?
He stared directly at me, jaw tense, and I swear for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
Then—ding—the doors closed.
He was gone.