Chapter 20

The morning sun cast golden rays through the sleek windows of the penthouse as Alexander Kingsley adjusted his tie.

Dressed in a tailored navy suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, he exuded power with every step. His sharp gaze swept over the cityscape before he turned, ready to face the day.

The Regal Palace Hotel awaited.

Last year, he had dismissed it as mediocre—unworthy of his standards. But now, under Isabella Sinclair’s leadership, it had transformed into a beacon of luxury.

A worthy opponent indeed.

"Mr. Kingsley of Vanderbilt Industries is here to see Ms. Sinclair. Please inform her."

Nathaniel, his assistant, repeated the request three times before the executive secretary even acknowledged them.

"I'm sorry, but Ms. Sinclair doesn’t see anyone without an appointment."

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. "Does Alexander Kingsley need an appointment?"

The secretary arched a brow. "Doesn’t everyone?"

Nathaniel’s face flushed crimson. He was seconds from demanding to speak to a manager.

"Fine. When is she available today?" Alexander’s voice was ice.

"Ms. Sinclair’s schedule is full. Perhaps try again tomorrow."

Nathaniel nearly exploded.

Alexander placed a firm hand on his shoulder, silencing him. "We’ll make an appointment."

They left empty-handed.

Back in the car, Nathaniel slammed his fist against the window. "This is ridiculous! We’re in New York, not her damn kingdom! If she keeps this up, she’ll regret it!"

Alexander leaned back, eyes closed. "We’ll return tomorrow."

"And if she refuses again?"

"Then the day after. I will see her." His fingers loosened his tie, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. "The Sterling Group can’t hold on much longer. Without intervention, they’ll collapse."

The next day, they were turned away.

Again on the third.

Alexander Kingsley—a man who dined with presidents, whose name commanded respect—was being treated like an inconvenience.

It was infuriating.

That afternoon, rain poured as Isabella arrived at the hotel.

Her stiletto heels clicked against the marble floor, commanding attention. A fitted double-breasted suit hugged her curves, while golden rose earrings glinted with every step.

"God, our CEO is stunning! I’d die for her!"

"Since she took over, morale has skyrocketed. The men adore her, the women emulate her."

"Most beautiful heiress? No contest."

Under her leadership, the hotel had flourished. Discipline replaced chaos. Every department thrived.

Internal stability first—then external dominance.

"The Vanderbilts have secretly funneled funds into Sterling," Sebastian reported over the phone. "Bad press destroyed their orders. This money is a lifeline."

Isabella smirked. "Of course Alexander would save his wife’s family. How noble."

She massaged her sore ankle, slipping off her heels. "But money can’t fix a ruined reputation. He’s throwing cash into a sinking ship."

Sebastian chuckled. "You two are terrifyingly alike. If you ever teamed up, you’d rule the world."

"We’re not allies," she said coldly, popping a chocolate into her mouth. "We’re rivals."

Moments later, Preston stormed in. "Ms. Sinclair! Kingsley’s back! The man has no shame!"

"For love, he’ll debase himself. Admirable." Her tone was indifferent, but Preston caught the bitterness beneath.

"Let me handle him. I’ll make sure he never bothers you again."

"No." She capped her pen, meeting his gaze. "Let him in."

Preston gaped.

"He’s begged three times. It’d be rude not to indulge the great Alexander Kingsley."

She stretched out her foot, and Preston knelt to slide her heel back on. "Find me a waitress—pretty, poised. I have a role for her."

Ten minutes later, a starstruck waitress stood before her.

"Ms. Sinclair! I—I’m honored!"

Isabella smiled. "Relax. Do as I say, and you’ll be rewarded."

The girl blushed. "Just working for you is reward enough!"

A superfan. Perfect.

Isabella nodded to Preston. "Get her one of my outfits. And shoes."

Confused, he obeyed.

"What do you need me to do?" the waitress asked eagerly.

Isabella’s lips curved. "Alexander Kingsley is coming. You’ll meet him in my place."

The girl paled.

"Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through an earpiece. Just act natural."

Finally, after days of rejection, Alexander stood in the lobby, anticipation coiled tight.

The assistant led them to the elevator, women stealing glances at his striking profile.

Nathaniel reached for the button—only to be blocked. "This elevator is for Ms. Sinclair only. You’ll take the others."

Nathaniel scoffed. "Big deal."

Alexander remained impassive. He had his own private elevator at Vanderbilt Industries.

The ascent stopped at the 30th floor.

"Exit here," the assistant said.

Nathaniel frowned. "Her office is on the 40th."

"This elevator doesn’t go higher."

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"

"Without Ms. Sinclair’s permission, no one uses her elevator. To reach the 40th floor, you’ll have to..."

Take the stairs.

Nathaniel exploded. "This is how she treats guests?!"

The assistant shrugged. "Her rules."

"Fine." Alexander strode out, jaw clenched.

Did Isabella think petty games would deter him?

Retreat wasn’t in his vocabulary.