Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

L OUISA HAD KNOWN MEN like him before. Well, not exactly like him. Noah Fox was the first Australian billionaire she'd met, but he was not the first man who was tall, dark, ruggedly handsome, and worth a fortune who'd crossed her path.

Having dated a King for two years, she should have been immune from nerves when it came to the opposite sex. Was there anyone more potentially intimidating than a royal? Only…Ares hadn't been intimidating. He'd been a friend first, and something like a friend the whole way through their relationship. It hadn't been his fault that she'd ended it.

On paper, he was perfect.

On the one hand, she had no doubt they would have been perfectly content if she'd stayed with him, and they'd gotten married in some big, over-the-top, royal wedding.

But the thought of living her whole life in that gilded cage had turned Louisa's blood to ice, and so she'd run away.

And she'd been ashamed of that—because Ares had deserved better. She'd angsted over how she'd let him down—and after all he'd lost in life. Only to have him fly in a week ago specifically to tell her that not three months after their breakup, he'd met the love of his life and was planning to propose.

Talk about being blindsided.

She'd left him .

She'd dumped him and flown to the other side of the world, to take up a client management role for a blue-chip advertising agency that was owned by one of her father's friends. She'd come here to lick her wounds and escape the press. She'd wanted Ares to be happy—but she had been shocked that he'd found happiness, with someone else, so soon after their breakup.

"It's not good enough," Noah Fox leaned forward, elbows braced on the table as he stared across at her in a way that was both intimidating and addictive. Not for the first time, she cursed her direct boss for failing to show up for the meeting.

The text message he'd sent as she'd walked into this boardroom had been about as unhelpful as it got:

Sorry, can't make it. You'll be fine. Remember, flatter, flatter, flatter, agree to everything, promise the world. I'll sort it out later.

Louisa wasn't sure she liked the idea of promising the world if the flighty Donovan was going to be left in charge of delivering on said promises. She was someone who valued the truth of her word, and the same could not be said for Donovan.

"You're unhappy," she said, trying to think less about Ares, and less about the incredibly symmetrical, angular face of the man across from her, and how much he reminded her of some kind of mountain range, and more about the fact he was one of the agency's biggest clients, and her job was to make sure he didn't take his business elsewhere.

"Damn straight." His Australian accent was broad and gruff. It made her think of the outback—a place she hadn't admittedly been but had fantasised about in her mind often enough to just somehow know that this man would be right at home in the broad, sweeping plains of dust and dirt, the anemic trees casting eerie silhouettes against a strikingly blue sky. "I was told my ROI would be here," he gestured with his hand. "And it, quite clearly, is not."

"No," she admitted, glancing down at the graphs Donovan had emailed her the night before, thankful she'd thought to print them out and bring them with her. "A few things haven't gone quite according to plan," she said, pulling her glossy brown hair over one shoulder.

"You can say that again."

He was clearly annoyed, and she couldn't blame him. He'd entrusted a multimillion-dollar advertising campaign to the agency, to launch his new chain of hotels, and several key angles had failed.

"The competition was badly run," she conceded.

"You hired an influencer who was on charges for drink driving. Hardly an association I appreciated. Every paper across the country included my name in the first paragraph of the articles about her arrest, as though I'd hand-picked her."

No one senior had hand-picked her, that was the problem. Donovan had left one of the interns to decide key matters, because ‘she's young, she understands what's going to work'. Otherwise known as: he couldn't be bothered, and so he'd staffed out decisions he absolutely should have been making himself.

"That was regrettable."

"Regrettable," Noah's barked laugh was a deep, throaty sound of disbelief. Raw and real. It made Louisa's stomach roll, and possibly not from nerves. Beneath the table, she dug her fingernails into her palm. "It was a disaster, from beginning to end."

"Yes."

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face, almost as if for the first time. It was like he hadn't really registered her before now, but rather had seen her as just a suit, a representative for an agency he was on the brink of firing.

"You're not making excuses."

Donovan would have. No doubt her boss would have had several handy little lies at his disposal, ready to save his own butt. But Louisa was not Donovan. She may have been hired because of nepotism, but she was good at managing people. Two years as a potential future Queen had taught her more than a thing or two about unruffling feathers and keeping her cool whilst doing it. She also knew how to read emotions, and she could tell that Noah Fox was not going to be impressed by smooth lies. He was no idiot, and there was no excuse for this.

So, she told him that.

"We stuffed up."

His brows shot upwards, towards his thick, dark hair. "I'm sorry?"

"No, I'm sorry," she said, leaning forward slightly, her red lips pursed in a line of genuine remorse. "This has been bungled, and it is far below the standard our agency endeavors to deliver—and has successfully delivered for you in the past, over multiple campaigns," she said, hoping that the goodwill from those previous jobs would go some of the way to keeping him on side. "We take full responsibility."

"Good." His approval, the note of appreciation in his voice, had her toes curling with something like pleasure. "Speaking of taking responsibility, where is Donovan?"

She glanced down at her papers, hating the question, because she didn't want to lie to this client. Nor, though, did she relish the idea of throwing her boss under a bus. "Erm, I'm so sorry, but he couldn't make it."

"I see." Noah's lips compressed into a line that clearly communicated disapproval. "Somewhere more important he had to be?"

She grimaced. "I think he mustn't be well," she said because she had no idea why he had pulled out at the last minute. "But I promise you, the agency is determined to fix this."

Noah reclined in his chair a little, studying Louisa's face with an academic curiosity that turned her blood to lava. She tightened her fist in her lap and stared right back at him, even when the effort of holding his eye contact was doing strange things to her equilibrium.

"How?" he said, finally, his inflection mildly curious, rather than cross.

She expelled a soft sigh of relief, but she was floundering, because her job was to manage the client—to take them for long lunches, and charm them with her multiple languages and grasp of international politics. Her job was not to be across the details of each advertising campaign. Of course, she had a high-level understanding of each of her clients' professional needs, but the minutiae was left to their advertising managers. Like Donovan. Who wasn't there. Like Donovan, who'd just asked her to charm and promise and flatter her way out of this situation.

"We'll start from scratch," she said, thinking aloud. She wouldn't make promises she couldn't keep, or that Donovan would break. "A huge team meeting, today, to come up with a new plan, and Donovan can present it to you tomorrow. We'll fix this, Mr Fox. I promise."

"Noah," he waved a hand through the air, whilst maintaining his disconcerting scrutiny of her face. "Where are you from?"

She compressed her lips, something like anxiety bubbling in her stomach. People in Australia didn't recognize her proforma. Unlike in Moricosia, where she couldn't have walked down the street without being trailed by paparazzi, or having well- meaning passersby pull out their cell phones to capture riveting footage of her buying milk. But when she mentioned her home country, sometimes, with some people, something twigged, and the fact she had been dating the King for two years, and had recently left him, filtered into their consciousness.

She didn't like to be recognized for that one part of her life.

"I—Europe," she hedged.

His brows drew inwards, so she knew he saw the response for what it was—obfuscation.

"Do you travel much, Louisa?"

She liked the way he said her name. She liked it a dangerous amount. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her mind a little blank. She tapped her fingers to her knee, hoping it would bring mental clarity back to the fore. "I—have travelled, yes."

"And stayed in hotels?"

She nodded once.

"Luxury hotels?"

She bit into her lower lip. He clearly didn't know she'd been dating King Ares Christou Diamantis. Nor that she came from one of Moricosia's oldest families. "From time to time," she hedged again.

"Have you ever stayed in a Fox hotel?"

She thought back to her trip to Rome, and the spectacular hotel with the view of the Coliseum and the exceptional service. "Yes," she said.

Curiosity sparked in his gaze. "Where?"

Her tongue darted out and licked her lower lip. "Rome."

"Recently?"

She shook her head. It had been her one-year anniversary with Ares. She'd wanted to go somewhere, out of the country. Looking back, she'd never been cut out for the role as his Queen. She'd been wanting to escape the pressures of royalty from almost the first.

"But you understand that guest satisfaction is at the forefront of what we promise and deliver. My family's business model is structured around being the kind of place that justifies the cost of our rooms."

She nodded. She knew that, from the brief she'd been given when taking on this client, but also from personal experience. Also, just from being a human in the world, who saw that the Fox name was indeed synonymous with luxury, prestige, and pleasure.

Her mind stumbled a little, after giving her the last attribute. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she prayed it wasn't showing as a visible pink to the man across the boardroom.

"Have you been to the hotel in Sydney?"

The heat became a full-blown inferno now as it spread through her whole body. How remiss of her not to have thought to go there, even for a lunch. It felt like a total ball drop—she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it. Or that Donovan hadn't suggested it.

She grimaced inwardly as she shook her head.

His eyes sparked with something—she desperately hoped not disapproval.

"It's hard to sell a product you don't know."

She couldn't read him properly. One minute, she felt as though she was getting through to him and winning him over. The next, she felt as though he was building up to let the agency go.

"I'm not directly involved in advertising decisions," she said, plaiting her fingers together in her lap. "My job is to take care of clients."

He pulled a quizzical expression. "How, exactly?"

More heat. She felt as though she were being burned alive. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. About eighteen months into her relationship with Ares, things had started to look as though they were getting serious. The palace had stepped in with protocol lessons for her—which she'd hated—and one of the palace advisors had worked with Louisa on her speech, ensuring that little placeholders like ‘erm' were banished forever. It was an unconscious habit for Louisa—and most people—but having been made aware of how often she sprinkled her sentence with such words, she had learned to keep them at bay now. For the most part.

"I am asking about your role at the agency," he clarified when she didn't speak.

Damn Donovan, she thought with frustration, feeling way out of her depth.

"I listen to client issues," she said, carefully. "And make sure they're communicated to the team. In this instance, I will absolutely make sure a total redesign of the strategy is brainstormed and brought to you tomorrow. You have my word, Mr Fox?—,"

"Noah," he growled.

"Noah," she closed her eyes a little. Because if she'd loved hearing him say her name, then the reverse was also very true. "Your business is incredibly important to us?—,"

"I can imagine it would be," he drawled, "given what I've spent."

She tried to think of something positive to say and remembered some more details from the report. "Online viewing has been good?—,"

"Clicks do not equate to bookings. Christmas is one month away—the hotel should be at full occupancy. Not to mention New Year's. With the Sydney hotel's view of the harbour, I would expect every room to have been booked out."

"We should focus on those two things," she said, tapping her fingertip against the edge of the desk. "Rather than the luxury of the hotel. Everyone knows Fox hotels are incredibly lovely; perhaps it was a mistake to make that the hallmark of the campaign."

"Go on," he prompted, leaning forward a little.

It was at that point she realized she'd overstepped. A lot. It wasn't her job to come up with new campaigns. Her job was to schmooze clients and let the ad people do their work.

"I'm sure Donovan will have more ideas for you tomorrow."

"Don't do that."

"What?"

"Don't edit yourself."

She blinked. "I'm not," she lied.

"You are. You have ideas. I want to hear them." He stared across at her. "Now."

She flinched a little, mostly from the shock of warmth that spread through her. This time, it was a nice warmth, a tingly warmth that made her whole body feel a little like it could float in the air. She glanced at a point over his shoulder. What could she do? The client was asking her to keep going. Besides, Donovan would need to start from scratch. Was there any harm inpointing him in the right direction?

"I just think, you have such an advantage. You're not a new chain of hotels, you're already a hotel experience that people the world over aspire to enjoy. That's a baseline understanding of what you offer. Beyond that, though, you can offer experiences. So, what does a Christmas at a Fox hotel look like? What do you do to make that special for guests?" Now, she was on a roll. She stood, without realizing it, pacing towards the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that showed incredible views of the world-famous Opera House. Noah's office was definitely every bit as luxe as she would have expected. "We should focus digital advertising on Europe and Canada. Places where people might be getting a bit fed up of the cold weather. Perhaps partner with the national airline, to create a package." She turned back to face him. "Christmas in Australia is a completely different experience to what it's like in Europe. While I understand there's a craving for many locals, here, to head to Europe for the snow and pine trees and puddings, the same is true in reverse. We need to sell this," she said, gesturing to the sparkling blue sky, the rush of sunlight flooding the room, the crystal-clear air. "All of the things that make an Australian Christmas so different, and so charming."

He had angled his chair, so he could continue staring at her, but she barely noticed.

"As for New Year's, we can switch gears. Let's focus on the glamour of that. I think I saw that your hotel has a themed party organized?"

He dipped his head once, in confirmation.

"Okay, so we sell the glitz and luxury of that. Let people feel like they're movie stars for the night, by booking a suite in a Fox hotel." She could imagine the campaign perfectly. Though her background wasn't in advertising, she'd sat in on enough meetings in the past month to understand the way they structured these things. In truth, it was exciting to be the one coming up with the ideas.

She just hoped Donovan wouldn't have a childish meltdown.

"In terms of long-term awareness, have you got the Sydney hotel featured on in-screen televisions across your network?"

His brow furrowed. "I'm not sure."

"It would be a good thing to do," she said, slipping easily into her role as future Queen, forgetting that she was no longer that. Nonetheless, the confidence she'd been taught to project came naturally to her now. "And we need to loop the PR team in. There should be more press around this," she shuddered a little as she said it though, because the press was something she'd taken a dim view of, in recent months. "More press around you, around the fact you're opening a flagship hotel in your home country. The Fox hotels are beloved the world over, and are finally coming home. There should be articles on what that means to you, on what it will mean for the city, on how many people you're employing. Good news stories. It would be great if we could get a couple to get engaged in one of your hotels, andhave it go viral," she tapped a finger on the side of her mouth then realized he was staring at her and dropped her hand. She'd gotten carried away, brainstorming. Disaster.

"Obviously, the team will have a better idea of how to facilitate this," she said, trying to remember what her role was today. None of this was her purview. "Donovan can?—,"

But Noah stood abruptly, and her mouth ceased making sound. Noah walked towards her, and all the air in the room seemed to disappear. Her mind went blank.

"Donovan is not a name I care to hear again," Noah said, not angrily, but with determination. "You say your job is to manage clients?"

She nodded once, still not able to speak. He was barely a foot away from her. Up close, she could see the fibres in his shirt, smell the light hint of his fragrance, imagine what his skin would be like to touch. He had a swarthy complexion, and his jaw was lightly stubbled. Not intentionally, but almost as if he forgot to shave that morning. It was incredibly sexy, and her stomach popped with little bubbles of something like awareness.

She was appalled at herself. Firstly, he was a client. A very, very important client. Secondly, she'd literally just broken up with one of the most famous men in the world. It was not the time to be going gaga for anyone.

Only, her body hadn't got the memo, because what had started as popping in her stomach had spread through her veins and manifested as a throb low in herabdomen and a tingling in her breasts. She swallowed quickly, seeking out calm.

"To keep clients happy?"

She nodded again.

"And I'm an important client to the agency, someone you want to keep happy?"

Her mind was spinning, but she nodded. "Of course."

"Then let me be clear: there is only one way to fix this, and that's for you to come and work for me."

Her jaw dropped. She stared at him, aghast. "I'm flattered, but?—"

"This isn't about flattery. I like the way your brain works. I like your passion, your commitment, and your honesty. You're the person I want to run this launch, and I want you to do it from here, so I can work closely with you, each step of the way. This hotel launch is—important to me. I need it to go well."

She wondered at the inflection in his voice, at the slight darkening of his eyes, the emotion in his face. It did seem important to him. Then again, the hotel would have cost hundreds of millions to build and get up and running. Hardly a casual investment. Naturally, he needed to see returns.

"I can't leave the agency, Mr—Noah. You're not my only client."

"For the next six weeks, I will be."

She stared at him. It was impossible to miss his natural authority. He spoke and she very much found herself wanting to say, ‘Yes, sir, of course, sir.'

"Unfortunately, that's not possible." Some strange self-preservation was making her demur, to cling to her job at the agency. "I can be involved in every aspect of your rollout, take a key role within the team, if you'd like." She could imagine how Donovan would feel about that, but c'est la vie. This was about keeping Noah Fox on board. Besides, Donovan was the one who'd urged her to promise whatever she needed to. "But I can do that from the agency."

Noah's eyes held hers for a long time. "I'll think about it," he said, finally, and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she might have failed after all.

"Noah—," But what could she say? She'd offered something that was fair and reasonable. Besides, she didn't have the experience to oversee a campaign like this. It was one thing to come up with ideas as a sort of lifeline, things that sounded good in theory. She had no idea if they'd actually work, nor how to implement them.

"Thank you for coming to see me, Louisa. It was a pleasure meeting you." And he held out his hand, in a clear gesture of finality. She stared at it as though it were a gauntlet she had to cross. For one thing, by shaking it, she was accepting that the meeting was over. On the other…it meant touching him.

Touching Noah Fox.

Just sitting across from him at the boardroom table had been enough to make her head spin.

Don't be stupid. It's just a handshake. Get a grip—literally. She chastised herself back to common sense and held out her own hand, glad that fireworks didn't explode into the room the moment they touched. Only as his fingers curled around hers, encasing her hand in the middle of his palm, she realized she was wrong. There might not be fireworks in the room, but inside of Louisa, everything started to tremble. His hand was warm and strong, his skin slightly calloused, which surprised her, because Noah Fox was a man who worked in boardrooms and slept in luxurious, million-thread count sheets. Why would his hands be calloused? She liked the way they felt though, so when he dropped her hand a moment later, she felt a searing, and strange, sense of emptiness. And a desire to reach out and grab his again, to hold it just a moment longer.

He'd think she'd lost the plot.

"I'll be in touch," he said, and now she knew she blushed, because she'd been standing there like an idiot, staring at the hand he held at his side.

"Right. Thank you for your time, Noah." She walked towards the table and collected her document wallet and handbag, grateful beyond belief for the palace deportment lessons, which meant that even as her knees wanted to knock and her fingers itched to tremble, she didn't betray a hint of the inner turmoil he'd been able to spark with a single direct look and handshake.