My First Book

Chapter 3: The Collision

Isabella Chen was not what I'd expected.

The photograph in her file had shown a serious, professional woman with severe hair and wire-rimmed glasses—the kind of consultant who blended into boardroom furniture and delivered results without complications. Safe. Predictable. Exactly the type of business relationship I could manage without personal entanglements.

The woman sitting across from me was anything but safe.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek bun that emphasized the elegant line of her neck, and when she'd removed her glasses to clean them moments earlier, I'd caught a glimpse of dark eyes that held intelligence and something else—a spark of defiance that most people were careful to hide in my presence.

The navy suit was perfectly professional, tailored to suggest competence without drawing attention to the feminine curves it couldn't quite disguise. But it was the way she carried herself that had caught me off guard—the confident tilt of her chin, the direct eye contact that never wavered, the complete absence of the nervous energy that typically accompanied first meetings in my office.

Isabella Chen wasn't intimidated by me. She was studying me.

Focus, Steele. This is business.

"Your analysis of Morrison Holdings was impressive," I said, settling back in my chair and forcing my attention to the tablet she'd placed on the table between us. "But Steele Industries isn't Morrison. We're larger, more complex, with operations spanning multiple continents."

"Which is exactly why you need a comprehensive efficiency audit." She leaned forward slightly, and I caught a hint of her perfume—something subtle and expensive that made me want to lean closer. "Large organizations develop inefficiencies like calcification. The bigger you get, the more places waste can hide."

Calcification. An interesting metaphor from someone who couldn't be more than thirty. I found myself genuinely intrigued, which was unusual. Most consultants either cowered in my presence or tried to impress me with flashy presentations full of buzzwords and empty promises.

Isabella Chen did neither.

"You've identified $8 million in potential savings just from our procurement processes," I continued, scanning her analysis. "That's a bold claim."

"It's a conservative estimate." No hesitation. No qualifying statements. Just quiet confidence that made me want to test her limits. "Your procurement system was designed for a company half your current size. You're hemorrhaging money through redundant vendor contracts, inefficient approval chains, and a complete lack of cross-departmental coordination."

She was right, of course. I'd suspected as much for months, but hearing it stated so bluntly by someone who'd only had access to our public financials was... unsettling.

"And you can fix this?"

"I can do more than fix it." She met my gaze directly, and for a moment I forgot about procurement inefficiencies entirely. "I can transform your entire operational structure. But I'll need complete access and zero interference."

Zero interference. From me. In my own company.

The audacity should have irritated me. Instead, I found myself fighting a smile.

"Ms. Chen, do you know why I fired my last consultant?"

"Sexual harassment of your assistant." Again, no hesitation. "Which tells me you value professional boundaries and won't tolerate anyone who compromises your team's safety. It also tells me you're willing to admit when you've made a hiring mistake."