Hunter winked and grabbed his beer. “Don’t worry. I got a great deal.”
We set out the game plan for hitting the ground running starting tomorrow.
“Did we really do this?” I stared at the large printout August and Jameson had pinned to the wall.
The elevator dinged. A hooded figure strode through the open doors and into the office with something tucked under their arm.
We all exchanged stares and searched the room for weapons.
Jameson jumped up, sprinted around the corner, and grabbed a metal sign, hefting it over his head.
As the figure got closer it was easier to see their build wasn’t that of a maniacal murderer. It was a woman in Converse and a superhero hoodie. Steps from the table we’d all been working at, Jameson yelled bringing down the sign for a face flattening blow.
The woman yelped, her arms flailing and the thick brown envelope she’d been carrying slid across the floor.
He recovered at the last minute, halting his swing and stopping the decapitation of our guest. Flinging down the sign, his face turned beet red.
She scrambled up off the floor, her hood falling back. “Zara said I might find you here.” Her hand clutched to her chest, she panted, pushing herself up onto all fours.
We scrambled and recovered from the shift from office brawl to cleaning up our screw up. Her face was familiar. Someone I’d seen at Easton.
Five sets of hands shot out to help her up. “Thanks. I didn’t get my cardio in today, so that did the trick.” She locked hands with August and popped up, her hair falling out of her ponytail.
He dropped her hand and took a step back. “Sorry about that. Who are you?”
She smiled, a mischievous sneak of a grin, before crossing both her arms over her chest. “How she’s going to stay away for six months, I’ll never know. She’s a much stronger woman than me. Anyway, ogling the man candy isn’t why I’m here.” That didn’t stop the long lingering survey of each one of us. Was this what it felt like to be on the meat market?
“Zara said you were thinking about starting up something new of your own. I figured you could use a leg up.” Holding up the envelope, she radiated exhilaration at handing over whatever was inside. “I’m Andi.”
I ripped it open and slid the black rectangular object onto the desk.
The guys all looked at her and back at me.
“It’s a hard drive. An external hard drive with every client, calendar, and vendor for Easton Events.”
“You stole this?” Jameson’s voice was steeped in disapproval.
She shot him a lopsided grin. “Do you take the fun out of everything? Technically it’s all my information housed on my hard drive and paid-for accounts. Do what you want with it, but I figured you’d like to kick things off right with your company and screw over Easton at the same time.”
“Is that the name of your company?” She stood in front of the whiteboard where we’d written out our plan of action and Everest had sketched out the logo.
“We already ordered the business cards.”
“If you move one little letter…” She picked up one of the white board markers and rubbed out the S from SWANK—the name we’d put together using each of our initials. She moved it to the end, spelling out WANKS.
She turned around grinning and shoved the cap onto the marker. “None of you saw that?”
Things were already off to a promising start.
49
Zara
Taxis rushed past the entrance of the hotel. The distinctive European siren wailed in the distance. Even after so many months outside the US, it always caught my ear. I backed through the door held open by a doorman in a top hat and tails and stared out at the historical buildings across from me.
Everyone else hurried along the sidewalks, not taking any of this in. Then again, I was barely above a tourist. My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I waved to the front desk and rushed across the lobby to the elevators.
Reaching my floor, I hopped, taking my heels off. The plush carpet cushioned my feet, soothing the day-long ache in my toes. Leo would’ve chastised me for wearing them for so long, but I’d barely felt the pain until I made it to the lobby.
Previously, my work had been so mind-numbing that I’d felt every minute tick by like a lemon-soaked paper cut. Now, I forgot to eat. Every minute was jam-packed with projects, events and tasks I had to drag myself away from, but something was missing. I could pretend I couldn’t quite place it, but it was him. Leo and I had gotten a month before I left. It had been one of the best of my life—I could relax, plan things on my own terms and spend as much time with him as possible. I’d never had someone take care of me before. I’d never let someone take care of me before, but with him it wasn’t hard at all.
And then I made it through the metal detectors, glancing back at him over my shoulder on the other side of the security line. It wasn’t until I was buckled into my seat that I let myself cry. This was my dream. This was what I’d fantasized about before I met him, and it was every bit as exciting and fulfilling as I’d hoped it would be, but I couldn’t stop feeling like I wasn’t in the right place. I wasn’t with him.
My key card was clutched between my teeth and I held my shoes in one hand and my bag of croissants for the morning in the other.
It was sacrilege to eat day-old croissants instead of buying them in the morning, but I’d much rather eat them sitting in the doorway to my barely-there balcony in my robe than get dressed early in the morning to get freshly baked ones.
My phone buzzed again in my purse. Dropping my shoes, I grabbed the key card out of my mouth and shoved in into the lock. I kicked my shoes through the doorway and let it close behind me, juggling the phone with my free hand.
“Olivier. It’s me. I’m here.” I let my bags fall to the floor right beside the door. The continent may have changed right along with the room, but other things stayed the same.
The accented voice came through the speaker. “Tomorrow, I’ll get the fabric samples. The company is small, but they’ve promised they can supply us with everything we need as long as they have enough notice.” I stared out my window, soaking in the view I’d had for the past three weeks. It would be hard to leave, but not as hard as it would be to stay.
A knock clued me into how late it was. Dinner time. Usually, I went out instead of using my room service perks, but I’d spent the day in heels, which meant my feet needed a rest. It never felt like I was burning the midnight oil like it had back at Easton. The long hours were as rewarding as they were tiring. My stomach rumbled.
“Let me get a pen.” Notes on top of notes, but all to execute my vision for the pitch for renovations to one of the three Paris hotels. This was my first time taking lead after nearly five months.
I opened the door, holding it open with my foot, and grabbed a pen off the desk while holding my phone against my ear with my shoulder.
“Olivier, I have to go. My dinner is here.”
“It’s later than I thought too. Get some dinner and we can go over everything in the morning once I have the samples.”
I ended the call and dug through my purse on the desk for a tip.
Turning with the euro note in my hand, I dropped the phone to the floor. The soft thud was the only sound other than my sharp gasp.