Chapter 2 - The Private Entrance
Rachel barely slept.
By morning, the memory had become worse, not better. It wasn’t just that she had mocked Marcus and been proven wrong in front of two old friends and half the Bellgrave driveway. It was the look in his face—calm, not triumphant. Not angry. Worse than angry.
Disappointed.
She stood in her apartment kitchen holding a cup of coffee she wasn’t drinking when Daniel came in from the balcony, already dressed in a navy suit. Daniel Wren was forty, charming in the polished, strategic way that made rooms bend toward him. He was also vice president of development for Halcyon Grand Hotels, which owned the Bellgrave.
He set his phone down. “The board meeting got moved to tonight.”
Rachel frowned. “At the Bellgrave?”
“Yes. Private dinner first. Then the session.”
She leaned back against the counter. “What does that have to do with Marcus?”
Daniel gave her a look that suggested she was behind the pace of a race he’d already been running.
“Marcus Carter isn’t just a rich guy with a Bugatti. Carter Mobility has been in quiet talks with Halcyon for three months.”
Rachel stared.
“What kind of talks?”
“The kind that involve numbers with eight zeros and lawyers who bill by the minute.” He picked up his coffee. “He may buy a controlling stake in our luxury transport division. Maybe more.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because there was no reason to. Until last night.”
Rachel swallowed.
“What do you mean, ‘until last night’?”
Daniel stepped closer. “You mocked a man who may control whether my biggest deal of the year closes.”
A flash of shame hit her again, quickly followed by irritation.
“You seem more upset about the deal than about me being humiliated.”
Daniel’s expression stayed smooth.
“I’m upset that you have history with a man who suddenly matters.”
Rachel laughed once, with no humor in it. “Suddenly?”
Daniel ignored the tone. “How serious were you two?”
“College serious.” She folded her arms. “Ten years ago.”
Daniel watched her carefully. “And how did it end?”
The question felt strangely invasive despite the ring he had recently put on her finger.
“It ended,” she said. “That’s enough.”
He considered pushing. Then didn’t.
Instead he said, “If Marcus is still angry with you, I need to know.”
Rachel almost snapped that she did not work for him, and this was not her problem.
But she did work in image. In access. In social tone. She understood how doors opened and closed.
“What exactly are you asking?”
Daniel’s answer came too fast.
“I’m asking you to fix last night if you can.”
Rachel went still.
“Fix it?”
“With a conversation. An apology. Something.” Daniel reached for her hand. “I’m not asking you to manipulate him.”
The softness in his voice made the lie worse.
He squeezed her fingers. “I’m asking you not to let an old misunderstanding damage the future.”
Rachel pulled her hand away.
After he left, she sat alone for ten minutes before calling Sophie Lane, one of the friends who had been with her at the reunion.
Sophie answered immediately. “Please tell me you’re calling to talk about the Bugatti.”
Rachel closed her eyes. “I hate you.”
“I know. Also, for the record, that was catastrophic.”
“Thank you.”
Sophie’s voice softened. “Rach… Daniel asked me a strange question last night after you left.”
Rachel sat up straighter. “What question?”
“He asked how long you and Marcus were together. Not in a curious way. In an anxious way.”
Rachel frowned. “Why would Daniel care?”
Sophie hesitated.
“Because I saw Daniel talking to an older man at the private entrance before Marcus drove off.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. But Marcus was there too.”
Rachel’s grip tightened on her phone.
Private entrance.
Other car ready.
Bellgrave board meeting.
Something in her stomach turned.
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Then Sophie added one more detail.
“The older man? Rachel… I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him in pictures with your father.”
