Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
“And you want us to help with this?” Nolan asks.
“Gabriel likes and respects you guys,” she says with a firm nod. “I’d like you to help me deal with it.”
“We’ll take care of everything,” I promise her. “But it’s going to cost you.”
“I’m prepared to pay,” she says. “What would a service like this cost?”
“A date.”
“A date?” she asks, looking confused.
“Or money,” Eli quickly adds.
“No money,” I snap as I shoot him a warning look. “A date for the fashion show.”
“You want to go to the fashion show?” she asks with her forehead all scrunched up. Fuck, she looks adorable like that. “With me?”
I nod. “You let me take you to the fashion show and I’ll handle your brother.”
Her cheeks go red as my brothers sink into their seats with groans.
I know what they’re thinking, but I don’t care. This isn’t about business anymore. This is about making this sweet girl mine.
“Okay,” she says with a nod. “You got a deal.”
Chapter Two
Victoria
“Can you sign for this, Miss Brown?” the receptionist Kate asks when I walk into the building. “I know it’s Gabriel’s job to sign for expenses, but I didn’t want to interrupt him on his honeymoon.”
There’s construction noise all around me—hammering, drilling, and what sounds like a jackhammer echoing through the lobby of our company. I’ve been here for thirty seconds and I already have a headache.
There are construction workers everywhere. Gabriel had the genius idea to renovate the entire building to give it a ‘rich, opulent look.’
My father never needed such frivolous expenses as crystal chandeliers and gold-plated elevators to conduct his business. I can still remember the small office he rented when I was a kid with the thick green carpeting and wood paneling on the walls.
“What am I signing?” I ask as I look down at the paper. Oh my God…
Is he freaking serious? Two hundred and sixty thousand dollars for exotic plants?
I suck in a breath and hand it back to her. “I can’t sign that.”
“Is there a problem?” Kate asks, looking confused.
Yeah, my father is rolling around in his grave right now. If I sign that, he’ll spend all of eternity haunting me.
“Give it to Gabriel when he returns.”
“Oh, he called and asked me to tell you that he’ll be back in town for the fashion show and then he’ll be returning to his honeymoon. But since he’s taking a night out of his honeymoon, he decided to extend it from two weeks to three.”
“Funny that he didn’t call me.”
She shrugs. “He must have known you were busy.”
“Yeah,” I say as my hand clenches into a fist. “That must have been why.”
“He’s such a sweetheart, your brother,” Kate says, swooning. “What a fantastic honeymoon. He rented the nicest villa in Fiji. Did you know it has a staff of thirty-six people? Thirty-six people for two guests. Incredible.”
“Incredibly excessive,” I mutter under my breath as two construction workers walk by holding a huge painting. “Where did that come from? Forget it. I don’t want to know.”
I grab my mail from Kate and head over to the elevators.
“Sorry, ma’am,” a construction worker says. “Out of order for the week.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I grit my teeth as I head to the stairs and walk up the eight floors to my office.
This spending is out of control. And the worst part is, we’re losing business because of him. He’s putting all of his focus on spending money and has none left for making it. He doesn’t even care that we’ve lost our biggest client.
Mr. Jones owns a huge robotics company and we used to be the sole provider of their electrical components. He worked with my father for thirty-three years and after less than a year in Gabriel’s hands, he left.
That was when I decided to get involved and come to work. Mr. Jones’ daughter called to give me a head’s up about what was happening. When I confronted Gabriel about it, he just shrugged and said “we have loads of other clients, Vicky. Who cares about Mr. Jones?”
“Dad cared!” I responded in disbelief. “That’s why he was our best client for thirty-three years! We used to go on vacation with their family!”
He just stared at me with that stupid look like he always has whenever I get worked up about something.
Eight flights of stairs, one sweaty back, and two aching feet later, I arrive at my office and sink down in my chair.
I sigh as I open one bill after another—all for the fashion show this Thursday.
Twenty-six thousand dollars on imported shrimp from Thailand, four hundred thousand on flowers, three hundred and seventy thousand for a celebrity I’ve never heard of to make an appearance for twenty minutes.
I leave the rest unopened and drop my head on the desk with a sigh.
Tears start stinging the back of my eyes, threatening to come out.