Love Wasn't In The Brief

The first time Amara Bennett met Nathaniel Cole, she wanted to throw her portfolio at his head. Not because he was handsome, although that was annoyingly true, and certainly not because he was wealthy. She had no particular interest in either quality. It was because he had just described six months of her work as an expensive attempt to preserve a building nobody cared about. And he had said it with a smile. "With all due respect, Miss Bennett, nostalgia doesn't pay the bills," Nathaniel said, flipping through her proposal. "The Bellamy Hotel needs a complete transformation, not a desperate attempt to recreate the past." Amara stared at him, struggling to believe that someone could be so arrogant before ten in the morning. She had spent three weeks preparing for this presentation, researching the hotel's history, studying its original architectural plans, and finding ways to restore its beauty without exhausting the renovation budget. She had barely slept the previous night, yet this man had dismissed her work without even looking at the details. She took a slow breath. "You're absolutely right, Mr. Cole. Nostalgia doesn't pay the bills. But neither does destroying everything that makes a place worth visiting." A few people around the conference table exchanged glances. Nathaniel closed the folder and leaned back in his chair. "Are you suggesting I don't understand the property business?" "I'm suggesting that you might want to understand the building before deciding what to do with it." His eyebrows rose. "And you believe you understand it better than I do?" "I know enough to recognize that the original stained-glass windows are worth preserving, the ballroom ceiling can be restored, and the east wing doesn't need to be demolished simply because replacing it would be more convenient for your budget." Nathaniel's expression hardened. "You have a lot of confidence for someone whose company has never handled a project of this size." That one hurt. Amara's fingers tightened around her pen, but she refused to let him see how deeply his words had landed. Bennett Design Studio might be small, but it had been built by her mother, Evelyn Bennett, who had spent nearly thirty years turning neglected spaces into places people loved. Amara had grown up watching her work, learning how to recognize beauty in forgotten corners and potential in buildings everyone else had abandoned. She wasn't going to let a man like Nathaniel Cole make her ashamed of that legacy. "Perhaps my company hasn't handled a project of this size," she replied. "But at least I don't confuse the size of a budget with the quality of an idea." Someone at the end of the table coughed to hide a laugh. Nathaniel glanced in that direction before returning his attention to Amara. "Interesting. I was beginning to wonder whether your proposal contained anything beyond pretty pictures and emotional attachment." "And I was beginning to wonder whether your personality contained anything beyond expensive tailoring and unnecessary arrogance." The room fell silent. For the first time since she had entered the hotel, Nathaniel looked genuinely surprised. Amara almost smiled. If she was going to lose the contract, she might as well enjoy herself first. "Miss Bennett," Margaret Whitmore said from the head of the table, her voice calm but firm. "Perhaps you would like to present your proposal before we turn this into a personal disagreement." Amara straightened immediately. Margaret was the owner of the Bellamy Hotel, an elegant woman in her late sixties who had inherited the property from her family and was determined to restore it to its former glory. She was also the person who could save Amara's struggling business. "Of course. I'm sorry." Amara connected her laptop to the screen and displayed the first rendering. The room fell quiet as the image of the restored ballroom appeared before them. The original columns stood proudly beneath a soft ivory ceiling, the chandelier glittered above polished floors, and the tall windows allowed natural light to spill across the room. "The Bellamy Hotel opened in 1958," she began. "For decades, it was one of the most admired hotels in the city. People came here for weddings, anniversaries, business meetings, and celebrations. But over time, the building lost its charm, and its reputation suffered. My proposal focuses on restoring what made the hotel special while introducing the facilities modern guests expect." She explained her plans for the ballroom, the guest suites, the restaurant, and the neglected east wing. She had researched the costs carefully and prepared alternatives for the most expensive elements of the project. When one committee member questioned her budget, she showed him how preserving the original windows could be more economical than replacing them. When another asked about the schedule, she explained how the renovation could proceed in stages. For fifteen minutes, Amara forgot about Nathaniel Cole. She spoke about the building she had grown to love through its photographs and architectural records, describing what it could become if someone gave it the attention it deserved. When she finished, Margaret Whitmore nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Miss Bennett. That was a very detailed presentation." "Thank you, ma'am." "However," Nathaniel interrupted, "there are a few problems with your figures." Amara closed her eyes briefly. Of course there were. "What problems?" she asked. He opened a folder and placed a report on the table. "The east wing has suffered more structural damage than your proposal suggests. According to this assessment, several supporting beams require replacement, not reinforcement. Your budget doesn't account for that." Amara frowned at the document. She had commissioned an independent inspection eight months earlier, and the engineer had concluded that most of the beams could be reinforced safely. "Who conducted this assessment?" she asked. Nathaniel named a respected engineering firm. She looked at the figures again. The estimated costs were almost double hers. "When was the inspection carried out?" "Three weeks ago." Her stomach tightened. She hadn't known about a recent inspection, and nobody had provided her with an updated report. "Did your engineers inspect every supporting beam behind the ballroom ceiling?" "That's what the report states." "Then I'd like to see their photographs before accepting their conclusions." Nathaniel leaned forward. "Are you suggesting that my engineers don't know what they're doing?" "I'm suggesting that I'd like to examine the evidence before changing an entire renovation plan." For several seconds, they stared at each other. Amara could almost see the argument forming behind his eyes, but Margaret raised a hand before either of them could continue. "That will be enough. I've heard both proposals, and I believe we have a decision to make." Amara folded her hands beneath the table, silently praying that the woman would choose her. "The Bellamy needs someone who understands its financial future," Margaret continued. "It also needs someone who understands its architectural history. Unfortunately, neither proposal addresses both concerns to my satisfaction." Amara's heart sank. "Does that mean you're rejecting both proposals?" "Not exactly." Margaret reached for a document beside her. "I've decided that the restoration will proceed under a joint management agreement. Mr. Cole will oversee the financial and structural aspects of the project, while Miss Bennett will lead the design and preservation team. You will work together for the next ninety days." Amara stared at her. "I'm sorry. What?" "You heard me." "With all due respect, Mrs. Whitmore, I don't think that's a good idea." "Neither do I," Nathaniel said. Amara turned toward him. For the first time that morning, they agreed on something, and she hated how satisfying it felt. Margaret appeared unmoved. "The hotel cannot afford another failed redevelopment attempt. I want both your expertise, and I expect you to put your personal differences aside. The project must be completed before the end of the ninety-day period. If you cannot work together, I'll terminate the agreement and appoint another team." Amara looked down at the document. Ninety days. One opportunity to save her mother's studio, and ninety days of working with a man who seemed determined to make her regret every decision that had brought her here. She was beginning to think bankruptcy might be the more peaceful option. --- By the time the meeting ended, Amara had developed a headache and a strong dislike for expensive black suits. She packed her laptop and portfolio, thanked Margaret for the opportunity, and hurried toward the grand staircase. She needed fresh air, a glass of water, and perhaps a few minutes to reconsider every choice she had made that morning. "Miss Bennett." She kept walking. "Amara." She stopped at the sound of her first name and turned reluctantly. Nathaniel stood several steps above her, one hand resting on the polished wooden railing. "What?" she asked. "We need to establish some ground rules before Monday." "Wonderful. I have a few of my own." "I'm sure you do." "First, don't insult my work in front of the team unless you have evidence to support your criticism." "Agreed." His immediate answer caught her off guard. She had prepared for an argument, not cooperation. "Second, I expect access to every inspection report, financial document, and architectural record concerning the restoration." "Reasonable." "Third, you don't make changes to my designs without consulting me." "That depends on whether those designs are financially viable." "Mr. Cole—" "Nathaniel," he corrected. "I'd rather not." "Then I suppose we're going to have a difficult ninety days." Amara gave him a tight smile. "You have no idea." He studied her for a moment before his gaze shifted to the portfolio beneath her arm. "Bennett Design Studio. Your mother founded it, didn't she?" Amara's expression changed. "Yes. Why?" "My father worked with several design firms when he was developing properties. I remember hearing her name." Something about the way he said it made her uneasy. She had heard enough stories about the Cole family to know that her mother's professional relationship with them had ended badly. The details, however, had always been vague. Whenever Amara asked questions, her mother would change the subject or insist that the past was better left alone. "Your father must have had an interesting opinion of my mother," she said. Nathaniel's expression grew colder. "My father is dead. Whatever happened between our families occurred years ago." Amara hadn't expected that answer. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." "Of course you didn't." He looked away briefly, adjusting his cuff. "My father died seven years ago." There was something in his voice that made her want to ask more, but she resisted. Whatever grief he carried wasn't her business, and she wasn't interested in becoming his confidante. "Perhaps you should tell me what happened between our families," she said instead. His eyes returned to hers. "Perhaps you should ask your mother." The words struck harder than she expected. "My mother is dead," Amara replied quietly. Nathaniel went still. For the first time since they had met, he seemed to have no immediate response. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I didn't know." Amara looked away. She didn't like discussing her mother with strangers, especially strangers who carried the Cole name. Her mother's death had left a hole in her life that no amount of work could fill, and the responsibility of keeping the studio alive had only made the grief harder to process. "Now you know," she said, adjusting her portfolio. "Is there anything else?" "Monday morning. Eight o'clock." "I'll be there." "And Amara?" She turned back. "Bring a hard hat." She frowned. "Why?" "The ballroom ceiling is worse than you think." Before she could ask what he meant, Nathaniel turned and walked toward the conference room, leaving her alone on the staircase. Amara looked up at the chandelier hanging above her. The crystals glittered beneath the afternoon light, and the decorative plaster surrounding the ceiling appeared beautiful from where she stood. Still, she remembered the crack she had noticed near the entrance and Nathaniel's warning made her uncomfortable.