The board meeting to present Kieran's hiring was scheduled for Thursday afternoon, giving Victoria exactly forty eight hours to prepare her defense. She spent Wednesday reviewing every detail of his proposal, building financial models, researching comparable projects, and creating the kind of bulletproof presentation that left no room for Margaret's objections.
Simone found her at seven o'clock Wednesday evening, still at her desk, surrounded by printouts and half empty coffee cups.
"You're going to give yourself an ulcer," Simone announced, setting down a bag from Victoria's favorite Thai restaurant. "Eat something that isn't coffee."
"I'm fine."
"You're obsessing. There's a difference." Simone unpacked containers of pad thai and green curry. "The proposal is solid, Victoria. The numbers work. You've done your homework. Margaret will hate it because Margaret hates everything, but you have the votes."
"Do I?" Victoria abandoned her laptop and accepted the food gratefully. "Geoffrey will support me. Robert is cautiously on board. But the others? They're going to see a twenty eight year old artist with limited retail experience and a budget that's fifty percent higher than our initial projection."
"They're going to see exactly what you show them." Simone pointed her fork at Victoria for emphasis. "If you go in there defensive and apologetic, they'll smell blood. If you go in there confident that this is the right choice, they'll follow your lead. You're the CEO. Act like it."
Victoria ate in silence for a moment, letting the familiar flavors ground her. Simone was right. She'd spent so much time trying to anticipate objections that she'd lost sight of her own conviction.
"I really believe in this," she said quietly. "In him. In the vision. It's the first time in years I've felt genuinely excited about something instead of just strategically certain."
"I know. That's what worries me."
Victoria looked up sharply. "What?"
Simone set down her food and met Victoria's eyes with unusual seriousness. "You're invested in this project in a way that goes beyond professional. And before you argue, I'm not saying it's wrong. I'm saying be careful. Because if this goes sideways, it won't just be your reputation on the line. It'll be your heart."
"That's absurd. I barely know him."
"You've been texting him at midnight about libraries and dreams. You lit up like a Christmas tree when he hugged you in your office. Don't think I didn't hear about that from the receptionist, by the way." Simone's expression softened. "I'm not judging, chérie. I'm just saying that mixing business with whatever this is, it's complicated. And you're not good at complicated things. You're good at controlling."
Victoria wanted to argue, but the words wouldn't come. Because Simone was right. Victoria's entire life was built on control, on clear boundaries between professional and personal, on keeping emotions separate from decisions. And somehow, in the space of one meeting, Kieran Hayes had blurred all those lines.
"Nothing is going to happen," Victoria said firmly. "He's twenty eight. I'm his client. We're going to have a professional working relationship, and that's all."
"Of course." Simone's smile was knowing. "Just like you're going to maintain professional boundaries and definitely not think about the way he looks at you like you hung the moon."
"He doesn't look at me like anything."
"Keep telling yourself that."
They finished dinner while discussing safer topics, marketing strategies and holiday campaigns and Simone's ongoing war with her teenage daughter over curfews. By the time Simone left, Victoria felt more centered, more ready for tomorrow's presentation.
She was gathering her things to leave when her phone buzzed. Kieran, of course.
"Random question: what's your biggest fear about this project?"
Victoria stared at the message. It was nine thirty at night. Normal vendor relationships did not involve philosophical questions at nine thirty at night. She should not respond. Should establish clear professional boundaries.
She typed: "That I'm making a choice based on emotion instead of logic and it's going to blow up in my face."
Three dots appeared immediately. "Counter argument: maybe the problem is that you've made every choice based on logic and it's left you half alive. Maybe emotion is exactly what you need."
Victoria's throat tightened. How did he do that? How did he see straight through her carefully constructed defenses to the truth she barely admitted to herself?
"That's not a business strategy," she typed back.
"Who says life has to be a business strategy? What if you just let yourself want something and see what happens?"
"What I want is irrelevant. I have responsibilities."
"To who? The board? The shareholders? When do you have responsibilities to yourself?"
Victoria put down her phone and pressed her palms against her eyes. This conversation was careening into dangerous territory, the kind of honesty that led to mistakes and complications and exactly the kind of messiness she'd spent twenty years avoiding.
Her phone buzzed again. "Sorry. That was too much. Occupational hazard of being an artist; we push boundaries we probably shouldn't. See you at the presentation tomorrow. I promise to be professional."
She should leave it there. Should let the conversation end on a professional note.
Instead, she typed: "Don't apologize for being honest. It's refreshing, even when it's uncomfortable. And for what it's worth, I think you're right. I have spent twenty years half alive. I just don't know how to be any other way."
The response came quickly: "Maybe you start by admitting that. The rest will follow."
Victoria went home and couldn't sleep. She lay in her enormous bed, staring at the ceiling Edmund had imported from Florence, thinking about Kieran's question. When do you have responsibilities to yourself?
The answer was never. She'd had responsibilities to her parents, who'd sacrificed everything to send her to Brown. Responsibilities to Edmund, who'd offered her security and purpose. Responsibilities to Harrison, who deserved a stable childhood. Responsibilities to the company, to the employees, to the shareholders, to the legacy.
But responsibilities to herself? To her own happiness, her own dreams, her own desires? Those had always been luxuries she couldn't afford.
Except she was forty three years old and wealthy beyond measure and still living like happiness was something she had to earn instead of something she was allowed to claim.
Thursday morning arrived with gray skies and bitter wind off the ocean. Victoria dressed with extra care, choosing a black suit that projected authority without severity. She'd been awake since four, reviewing her presentation one final time, anticipating every possible objection.
The board meeting was at two. Kieran arrived at one thirty, looking nervous in the same navy suit from Tuesday, carrying a leather portfolio that was battered with use. Victoria met him in the lobby, needing to brief him before they entered the conference room.
"You ready?" she asked.
"Terrified, actually." His honesty was disarming. "I've never presented to a board before. What if I screw this up?"
"You won't. Just be yourself. Show them your passion. Let the work speak for itself." She paused. "And whatever happens in there, remember that I chose you because I believe in your vision. Don't second guess that."
He met her eyes, and something passed between them, some understanding that went beyond words. "Thank you. For taking the risk on me."
"Thank you for creating something extraordinary."
The conference room filled quickly. Margaret attended via video from Palm Beach, her expression already disapproving. Geoffrey gave Victoria an encouraging nod. Robert looked professionally neutral. The other board members arranged themselves around the table like a jury.
Victoria stood at the head of the table, projecting confidence she didn't entirely feel.
"Thank you all for coming," she began. "As you know, we've been evaluating proposals for the flagship renovation for six months. Today, I'm presenting our final selection: Kieran Hayes of Hayes Design Studio."
She pulled up Kieran's renderings on the large screen, and even on video they were stunning. The board members leaned forward, studying the images with varying degrees of interest and skepticism.
"Mr. Hayes brings a unique perspective to luxury retail," Victoria continued. "His background in experiential installation art, combined with his architectural training, positions him to create something that's not just a store but a destination. A space that tells our brand story through materiality, light, and emotional resonance."
Margaret's voice cut through from the screen. "He's twenty eight years old with no significant retail experience. What makes you confident he can execute a project of this magnitude?"
Victoria had been waiting for this. "His age is actually an asset. He understands contemporary luxury consumers in a way that traditional retail architects don't. And while his retail portfolio is limited, his installation work demonstrates exceptional project management and creative problem solving under tight budgets and timelines."
She pulled up images from Kieran's New Museum installation, the gallery transformed into a meditation on light that had earned him coverage in Artforum and the Times. "This project came in under budget and ahead of schedule. He managed a team of fifteen artisans. He navigated complex building codes and historical preservation requirements. Those are exactly the skills we need."
"What about the budget?" This from David Kowalski, the venture capitalist. "Twelve point five million is significantly higher than our initial projection."
"Because we're not doing a simple refresh. We're creating a brand differentiator." Victoria clicked to her financial models. "I've run the numbers assuming three scenarios: conservative, moderate, and optimistic. Even in the conservative scenario, with just a fifteen percent increase in foot traffic, we recoup the additional investment within eighteen months. In the moderate scenario, we're looking at ROI within a year."
She let that sink in before continuing. "But the real value isn't just in immediate returns. It's in brand positioning. Every luxury retailer is facing the same challenge: how to remain relevant to younger consumers while maintaining the heritage that justifies premium pricing. This renovation solves that problem. It gives us a story to tell, a reason for press coverage, a destination that becomes part of Newport's cultural landscape."
Geoffrey raised his hand. "I'd like to hear from Mr. Hayes directly. Can you walk us through your vision?"
Kieran stood, and Victoria could see his hands shaking slightly as he approached the screen. But when he started talking, all nervousness vanished.
"Thank you for the opportunity," he began. "I know I'm not the obvious choice. I'm young, I'm unproven in this sector, and my approach is unconventional. But that's exactly why this will work."
He clicked through his renderings, his passion evident in every word. "Luxury retail is dying because we've forgotten that luxury isn't just about price point. It's about experience. It's about feeling like you're part of something that matters, something with history and beauty and meaning. Right now, most luxury stores make people feel intimidated or bored. What if instead they felt inspired?"
He pulled up the central atrium design, where hand painted tiles would shift from cream to gold as natural light moved through the space. "This installation tells a story. These tiles are made by artisans in Ravenna who've been perfecting this craft for three hundred years. That's heritage. That's authenticity. And it's beautiful in a way that makes people stop and look and feel something."
David Kowalski interrupted. "It's also expensive and impractical. What happens when tiles crack or stain? How do you maintain something like this?"
"The same way you maintain any investment in quality," Kieran responded without hesitation. "Yes, it requires specialized care. But that's part of the story. These aren't disposable materials. They're heirloom materials, designed to age beautifully, to develop patina, to last generations. That's what Ashford and Co represents, right? Quality that endures?"
He had them. Victoria could see it in their faces, the way they leaned forward, engaged despite themselves. Even Margaret looked intrigued, though she'd never admit it.
Kieran continued for twenty minutes, fielding questions with a combination of technical expertise and emotional intelligence. He knew his materials, his timeline, his budget down to the dollar. But more than that, he spoke about the project like it mattered, like it was about more than just commerce, like creating beauty was a responsibility worth taking seriously.
When he finished, the room was silent. Then Geoffrey started clapping, and others joined in. Even Robert looked impressed, though his applause was measured.
Margaret, of course, remained skeptical. "It's a compelling presentation," she said from the screen. "But I still have concerns about risk management. What protections do we have if Mr. Hayes fails to deliver?"
Robert spoke up. "I've drafted a contract with milestone based payments and very specific deliverables. If at any point the project falls behind schedule or over budget, we have exit clauses that protect the company's investment."
"And who oversees the project?" Margaret pressed.
"I will," Victoria said firmly. "This is too important to delegate. I'll be Mr. Hayes's primary point of contact and will provide the board with monthly progress reports."
Margaret's smile was thin. "How convenient. Direct oversight of a very attractive young man. I'm sure that will be purely professional."
The implication hung in the air like poison. Victoria felt her face flush with anger, but before she could respond, Geoffrey cut in sharply.
"That's inappropriate, Margaret. Victoria's professional judgment has never been questionable, and I won't have you implying otherwise. If you have legitimate business concerns, raise them. Otherwise, keep your speculation to yourself."
Margaret's expression hardened, but she backed down. "Very well. I'm voting no on this proposal. The risk outweighs the potential reward."
"Noted," Victoria said coolly. "Let's call for a vote. All in favor of hiring Hayes Design Studio for the flagship renovation?"
Geoffrey's hand went up immediately. Robert followed, then three others. Six votes in favor.
"Opposed?"
Margaret and two others. Three votes against.
"The motion carries," Victoria announced. "Mr. Hayes, welcome to the project. Contract details will be finalized by the end of the week, with work commencing November first."
After the board members filed out, Kieran lingered, his face flushed with success and relief.
"I can't believe that worked," he said once they were alone.
"You were brilliant." Victoria allowed herself a genuine smile. "You made them believe in the vision. That's the hard part."
"Margaret hates me."
"Margaret hates everyone. Don't take it personally." Victoria began gathering her materials. "Though her comment was out of line. I apologize for that."
"The attractive young man thing?" Kieran's smile was wry. "I mean, she's not wrong. I am young and I am attracted to you. The question is whether that's actually a problem."
Victoria froze, her heart suddenly racing. "Kieran."
"I know. Professional boundaries. Client relationship. Fifteen year age gap. Conflict of interest. I've given myself the same lecture." He stepped closer, and Victoria could smell his cologne, something clean and simple. "But I'm also honest about what I feel. And I feel like I've been waiting my whole life to meet someone like you."
"You barely know me."
"I know you're brilliant and scared and lonely and you pretend not to be any of those things. I know you light up when you talk about design and then immediately shut it down like you're not allowed to care about beautiful things. I know you've spent so long being what everyone needs you to be that you've forgotten who you actually are." His voice was gentle. "And I know that terrifies you more than any business risk ever could."
Victoria couldn't breathe. No one had ever seen her this clearly, this completely. It was exhilarating and horrifying in equal measure.
"This can't happen," she whispered.
"Why not?"
"Because you work for me. Because I'm old enough to be your mother. Because if anyone found out, it would destroy everything I've built. Because Margaret was right; I can't be objective about you." The words tumbled out in a rush. "Because I don't know how to do this, Kieran. I don't know how to want something just for myself without calculating all the ways it could go wrong."
"Then learn." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture achingly tender. "I'm not asking you to blow up your life. I'm just asking you to consider the possibility that maybe, for once, you could choose something that makes you happy instead of something that makes sense."
"And if it ends badly?"
"Then at least you'll have felt something real." His hand lingered near her face. "Life's too short for me, Victoria. I learned that from my dad. He's worked construction for forty years, broke his back building things for other people, and you know what he told me when I said I wanted to be an artist? He said go for it. Life's too short to do anything else."
Victoria wanted to argue, to list all the practical reasons why this was impossible. But standing there with Kieran's hand almost touching her face, his eyes full of hope and honesty, all her objections felt hollow.
"I need time," she said finally. "To think about this. About what it would mean."
"Take all the time you need." He stepped back, giving her space. "I'm not going anywhere. And Victoria? Thank you for believing in my work. Whatever else happens between us, I'm going to make you something extraordinary."
After he left, Victoria sat alone in the conference room for a long time, staring at his renderings still glowing on the screen. Beautiful, risky, completely unlike anything she'd ever chosen before.
Maybe that was exactly the point.