Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“Are you okay?”
I started, head jerking up. I hadn’t realized I was tightening my grip on his arm until just then. “I’m fine,” I rasped. “Bad memories.”
“He’s not here anymore.” Sunny read my mind. “Both of them are gone. Damien Stone’s deserved castration is postponed another day.”
I cracked a smile. “I won’t lie. Castration did cross my mind once or twice.”
We weaved through the halls, coming up to another reception desk and the door it stood between—Vance Hollywell’s office.
All five-feet-seven inches of heels, makeup, and designer labels rose from her seat, surveying us with cold eyes. I wondered if I gave off that look when I was working here.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Hollywell,” Sunny replied. “We’re the Johnsons.”
She didn’t move. “Do you have an appointment?”
“A standing one. Means I can walk in whenever I want, and consider taking my business elsewhere for every minute I’m kept waiting.”
Lorna, as her nameplate read, lost the haughty lip twist. “Excuse me, Mr. Johnson. Director Hollywell is on a call with the New York office, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Call with the New York office. Wonder if that means he’s talking with Talia right now.
Lorna scurried to the door, sticking her head in. We were right on her heels.
“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but— Hey!”
Sunny pushed in—the firm hold on my hand tugging me behind him. I stepped around him as a breath-stoppingly handsome man shot out of his seat, angry words on the tip of his mouth.
I hadn’t kept up with news of Caddell House after I was fired. At least I hadn’t kept up with anything other than news of Talia and Damien. Obviously, she was replaced by a new creative director, but one look proved he wasn’t an in-house hire. This guy didn’t work here when I did, and I would’ve remembered the piercing blue, almost purple eyes. High cheekbones, hooked nose, strong chin, and a suit that clung to all the right places like Liam’s always did. Whoever he had designing for the Johnson account was floating him a few suits too.
“What do you think you’re—?” He stopped so suddenly you would’ve thought he was gagged. His face slackened, taking in my Sunny, and that grin. For generations to come, people will show a photo of that smirk and everyone will know it belongs to Sole Bellisario.
“Sunny,” he rasped. His Adam’s apple visibly bobbed. “What are you—? Is something—?” Hollywell flicked behind us. “Lorna, you can go.”
“Vance? Vance, what’s going on?”
I stiffened as Talia’s voice filled the room. Forget Lorna, this woman knew how to do haughty.
“Forgive me, Talia. We’ll have to reschedule our conference call.” And just like that, Vance shut off the computer, hanging up on the great Talia Barker.
“Sunny.” Vance tried to inject cheer in his voice as he came around the desk, arms out. “Wonderful to see you. I’m sorry I didn’t know we had a meeting scheduled.”
“We didn’t.”
“Sit, sit. Please.” Vance held out a chair for me, taking my hand to help me down like I was royalty. I took a look around the place while he simpered to Sunny.
He made a lot of changes to this office—which was to be expected. Talia hung dozens of photos of herself from her model days. She loaded the room with vintage French furniture, and anything that could be pink, white, or purple—was.
With Hollywell taking over decorations, the photos of his predecessor were gone. As were the fancy, floofy furniture and the whimsical color palette. Instead, Hollywell opted for a simple, minimalist design with white leather chairs, glass desk, plush gray carpet, and photos of random models on the catwalk showing off Caddell designs. I liked what he did with the place much more than Talia—mostly because I’d like anyone more than Talia.
“Is there a problem?” Vance reclaimed his seat and attempted to look casual, reclining back and crossing his ankle over his leg. “I’ve assigned the very best to your account, Sunny. Every stitch of clothing made for you is given my final approval, and from what I understand, delivery is always prompt.”
My ears quirked up. Hollywell gives the final approval before their clothes go out? Talia was hands-on, but she wasn’t that much of a micromanager. Why does Hollywell give the Merchants this special attention?
I mentally added him to my list of suspects.
“There is no problem, Hollywell. Actually, it’s a testament to how well Caddell House dresses me that brings me here today.” Sunny leaned back, crossing his ankles and resting a fist on top. He did effortlessly casual much better than Hollywell ever could. “Recent events have prompted me and my family to show our charitable side. We’ve given the majority of our old, last-season clothes to charity.”
“Oh, I see.” Hollywell sat up a little straighter, catching on immediately. I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. The Merchants got their clothes from Caddell at a steep discount, but that discount still added up to them spending more than the twin salaries of two working-class married professionals. Designing an entire wardrobe for the family and their staff would fill the Caddell coffers for years.