Julian Blackwood in all his full glory, sat at the head of the table, his jacket draped across the back of his chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Chatting casually with one of the men seated, easy and magnetic, completely at home. The same smile that had disarmed her on the boat now made her stomach drop. The opulence of the building, the corporate version of him, was a stark contrast to the Man she had almost fallen in love with on the yacht. His gaze lifted and found hers instantly.
Even though the laughter died, his expression didn't betray surprise, not even for a second. He leaned back in his chair, slow, deliberate, his lips curving into something unreadable.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure they could all hear it.
Brooke's warning echoed in her head, trust no one.
Ashley forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes as stepped into the room.
Julian's presence had always been magnetic, but now it was tempered by an aura of authority. Gone was the playful lover who had whispered sweet nothings in her ear under the skies, in his place was a precise, calculated force of nature, utterly professional, every gesture controlled.
"Good morning, Ms. Ashford, you're right on time" he said evenly, voice smooth and clipped. No smirk, no teasing. Just the steel edged authority of a man in command.
Ashley stiffened. "Good morning, Mr. Blackwood." Her voice, normally warm, held a sharpness she hadn't intended, a reflection of her irritation.
The meeting began shortly after her Father's former secretary joined in, shortly after they exchanged pleasantries. Numbers, projections, and strategy did the talking. Julian listened intently, occasionally interjecting with pointed questions, corrections, or suggestions, but never a hint of recognition at her. Every joke, every glance, every flirtatious remark from the cruise was gone, replaced by a calm, unflinching professionalism.
Ashley felt her patience waning. He was… infuriating. The man who had made her heart race and laugh uncontrollably now seemed deliberately cold, and unreachable. She wanted to glare at him, to remind him of who he had been in her arms. Instead, she smoothed her notes, her jaw tightening as she countered his points with equal force.
"I see your concern about overhead," she said, emphasizing each word, "but cutting off about ninety percent of staff now will compromise production timelines. It's not feasible."
Julian's expression didn't change. "Ms. Ashford, feasibility is a matter of priorities. The company's survival must outweigh comfort or tradition. You understand that, correct?"
"I do," she replied, but the bite in her voice betrayed her. "But efficiency doesn't have to come at the cost of morale."
A flicker of something crossed Julian's eyes, nothing readable, just a shadow of thought which passed instantly. He returned to his composed, unreadable mask, leaving her boiling with indignation. He wasn't interested in her proposal. Instead he negotiated keeping the employees that were key and strategic.
Ashley could feel heat rising to her cheeks, and she refused to let him win. Every correction, every clipped response felt like a personal insult. She couldn't understand how the playful, teasing Julian she had known could sit here, unreadable, and command the room without a single trace of the man who had laughed with her under the sun.
"Ms. Ashford," Julian said finally, voice smooth and unyielding, "If we continue at this pace, we would reach an impasse. Will you be willing to at least try to compromise a little bit on staffing and restructuring immediately? You should know you are here as a matter of courtesy."
Ashley's hands clenched in her lap. Oh the guts of this man, she thought angrily. How proud and rude, could one get. This wasn't a compromise. He had stripped them bare and expected them to take it in good faith.
"I'm not prepared to make decisions that jeopardize the company's integrity and those that have done their duty studiously," she said firmly, eyes flashing.
"Studiosly huh" he said half mockingly. The sarcastic part of him reared its ugly head at least she thought. It was the first thing she had recognised about him all day. "Perhaps this discussion will be productive when we align on priorities." Julian tilted his head, eyes steady on her. "If we don't align, the present employees would suffer, no courtesy would be granted. Decisions cannot wait for… nostalgia."
The word cut deeper than she expected. Nostalgia. He knew exactly who she was, even though nothing betrayed recognition on his part. No acknowledgment of their stolen week, no playful glance. Just business. Cold, unyielding, infuriating business.
Ashley grounded herself, her temper rising at the subtle shade. She had prepared for a little negotiation, for confrontation, for battle, but not for this quiet, controlled dismissal that made her blood boil.
"Then it seems we are at a deadlock," she said, standing abruptly. Chairs scraped, papers scooped up into her arms, as she felt every eye in the room on her.
"I think we've covered all points that can be reasonably discussed today. You proceed with your plans and I will with mine. No one would take kindly to a hostile take over, when the news gets out, you would be hearing from my Lawyer also. I cant Wait to share our findings with you"
Julian's eyes remained calm, precise, but she could sense a little confused reaction at her response, beneath the surface. He leaned back, composed, but his fingers twitched slightly on the table, a subtle sign of impatience, or perhaps calculation.
Without another word, Ashley collected her notes and left the room, the click of her heels sharp against the polished floor.
For all the brevity she was feeling, Her chest was tight with fear and frustration. She needed air, needed distance, needed to remind herself the reason she was poking the hornet's nest.Her so-called "Billionaire husband" was now a professional adversary. She no longer cared or gave a damn about anybody's opinion, most especially his , she was beyond that now.The battle line was drawn and Ashley Ashford was battle ready.