Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Rowe,” Joey said firmly, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned from working parties and events all these years, it’s that when you’re hanging with rich folks, you’ve gotta own it. Walk with brass balls. Believe that you belong, and you will. Don’t act like you’re here begging for a chance—act like you’re offering them an opportunity. And definitely don’t do that babbling thing you do when you’re nervous.”
I scowled. I did not babble.
“Most important, remember why you’re here.” His eyes bored into mine. “You’ve been pouring your blood, sweat, and tears into Project Daisy Chain. You’ve sacrificed your money and time, the career you could have had… your freakin’ dignity.” He twirled the sombrero in the air. “And you didn’t do all that shit so you could freak out when your goal was in reach.” He shook my shoulders lightly. “You said emailing people to ask for a meeting wasn’t working. You said you needed to make a personal connection first. Right?”
“Well, yeah—”
“Okay. So you’re gonna take that rabbit bow tie and that magician tux, you’re gonna go in there, and you’re gonna make shit happen. Hear me?”
“Yes.” I straightened my shoulders. “I will.”
“Fuck yeah, you will.” Joey grinned suddenly and clapped a hand to my chest, right over the breast pocket of my tuxedo. “And whatever you do, don’t pull this pocket square, okay? It’s a pain in the ass to get it folded back up again.” He shot me a wink, then jammed the sombrero on his head. “Check in later, cuz. I got burritos to deliver.”
He wandered off down the alley, humming the Burrito Bandito song under his breath, and I shook my head. As much as Joey bitched and moaned about taking my shift, I knew I could trust him to do a good job at it. We’d grown up several states apart from each other—me in Indiana and him in New York—but our parents had instilled in us a strong work ethic and an even stronger sense of Prince family loyalty. Neither of us would let the other one down, especially if it involved our jobs.
And for all his goofiness, Joey was right. This was it. The chance I’d been waiting for. All the sleepless nights, all the dates I’d missed out on, all the years of research, all the soul-crushing form-letter rejections had led me here. Tonight, I was going to meet the head of Hardy Development in person, explain my idea—and the reason behind it—in a way Justin Hardy couldn’t refuse, and convince him to help me make my dream a reality.
My hands were a little clammy, and I couldn’t help but notice the tux I wore smelled like cotton candy and corn chips, but I was not going to let that stop me. I checked my breast pocket again for the business cards I’d shoved in there. Sure they were old-fashioned, but I couldn’t think of another way to force my contact info on any good funding leads I might get tonight.
Walk confidently. Brass balls. You’re Sterling Chase, Quirky Billionaire.
You belong.
I snuck around the pretentious red-carpet area, where photographers were snapping pictures of beautiful people, and made my way through the security area to the check-in table.
“Ticket?” the woman behind the table asked politely. Thankfully, the area around the reception table was so busy she barely noticed how crumpled my ticket was. She quickly exchanged it for a name tag that said Sterling Chase… exactly as Joey had predicted.
Damn it.
For the first time, it occurred to me that appearing with Sterling’s name on my name tag might not be the best way to talk to Justin Hardy, his business rival.
“Uhh, actually.” I swallowed. “Is there any way to get a name tag with a different name? Like, I dunno, let’s say… Rowe?”
“Rowe.” The lady blinked at me. “Sir, this ticket is in the name of Sterling Chase. Is it not your ticket?” Her eyes shifted to the security personnel standing nearby.
“I… I…” What would Sterling Chase do? I stuck my chin in the air and affected the most obnoxious rich-person accent I could muster. “Of course it’s mine, my dear.” I smiled winningly. “Yes, indeed! It’s just that I like to…” I coughed lightly. “Play pranks on my friends! It’s quite common amongst billionaires like myself. Sterling Chase is a notorious prankster. Ask anyone who knows him… er, me.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, and I felt a bead of sweat drip down the back of my neck.
“B-but obviously, it’s no problem for me to simply… be Sterling Chase. Since I am Sterling Chase. So sorry to trouble you.” I took my name tag and made a big show of affixing it to my pocket, then gave her a stiff bow. “I bid you good night, lovely lady.”
I quickly walked past her, following the crowd dressed in millions of dollars of couture fashion.