Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
I have to clear my throat and give her a fake-ass smile as I say, “It was wonderful. I missed the city.” I keep it professional and reach for the goblet of water the waiter left behind for me. There’s a dark ring on the black tablecloth from where it sat. The beads of condensation make my hand slip slightly, but she doesn’t notice.
“I was going to recommend a bar around the corner to help with the jitters from traveling all day, but I forgot to write you… what is it?” She ponders as I take a sip, and I cough up the small bit of water when she says, “The Tipsy Room.”
Fate just wants to fuck with me today.
Luckily, the cruel joke goes unnoticed by Mrs. Hart as she greets two more people, waving them to the table to join us.
This time I stay seated, and this time both of them offer their hands to me. Of course mine is cold and wet from the goblet and I feel the need to apologize awkwardly.
“I’m thrilled to finally meet you; we’ve heard so much about you,” the woman tells me. She’s got to be in her late forties or older, judging by the wrinkles around her eyes, but overall she looks so young. If it weren’t for the crow’s feet, I’d have guessed she wasn’t even thirty. Maybe it’s Maybelline, or maybe it’s Botox.
“Lara Bolton.” She tells me her name before I have to ask. I had no idea anyone else would be here, and I haven’t met anyone other than Adrienne. The second I hear her name, the butterflies in the pit of my belly morph into a hornet’s nest. “And this is Hugh North, he’ll be training you on all of the technical processes at work starting tomorrow.”
“Pleasure,” Hugh says with a charming smile. As Lara takes her seat, she hands him her coat and he takes his time removing his navy bomber jacket, which complements his dark skin.
“It’s wonderful to meet you both. I’ve heard,” I say and gesture with my hand toward Lara, “everything about you.” My pulse ramps up as I think about every article I’ve read. Lara is a restaurant stylist whose talent is to die for. Her designs aren’t just on trend – she makes the trends.
“Same to you, Miss Miller,” Lara replies with a grin and then the waiter comes to the table, forcing me to be quiet. Which is probably best at the moment.
Before Lara’s finished ordering, Hugh places a manila folder and a brand-new laptop in front of me. “Your first assignment.”
I’m too eager to wait for anything more, and as I flip through the pages, most of them photographs, Hugh asks me, “What do you think?” There’s an air of curiosity from him I find exciting.
I answer quickly, thumbing through the pictures, “This is an easy fix. It’s an Irish pub, judging by the name of the restaurant, but there isn’t an ounce of green in the branding; no dark woods, the menu is right though—beer-infused cheese dips and all sorts of burgers.” When no one says anything, I continue voicing my thoughts aloud.
“The food appears to be on point, but everything else seems wrong.” All their heads nod, and I continue to skim through the pages. It’s all white, almost sterile and clinical in appearance, but it’s just about getting the aesthetic right. “I could rebrand this place in my sleep.”
“Your budget is high too,” Hugh says, and I peek up to see all of them grinning at me.
“What about the location?” I ask, not finding it easily in the pamphlet.
“High competition, but if they could draw in the right people, they’d make it work,” Lara answers before Hugh can.
“How much time do I have?”
Lara and Hugh share a glance, and Lara offers me a wicked smile. “You’re hosting the client meeting tomorrow. But from the sound of your initial assessment, I’m confident you’ll have amazing ideas.”
Hugh adds as my anxiety spikes, “It’s trial by fire here, but I’m sure you’ll do just fine with your presentation.”
Holy shit. My heart’s pounding so fast, it feels like I at least earned one of the curtains in my expensive-ass dining room.
With a feigned smile, I let the folder close and tell the table I’ll be ready.
CHAPTER 9
Madox
Seven years ago
I think she’s going to say it again, but she doesn’t.
Instead, she offers me a small smile and I force one back.
I’ve been waiting to hear those words again, but she hasn’t said them since that one time. I thought it would bring us closer, but all I can feel is distance. I should have known better than to lean on her like I did. I should have been on my own. I should have dealt with it myself.
She said it to make me feel better. That’s all.