Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Just getting in?”
Considering my bag is on my desk and I’m carrying a takeout coffee cup? “Yep. Just getting in.”
I don’t miss the implication that she’s been here for a while. I still can’t decide if she plays dumb or really is. It’s hard to tell.
“Look, Fiona . . .” She places her warm, slightly moist hand on top of mine. “I know things have been strained between us lately. And I’m really sorry for it.”
Some of the stiffness eases out of my shoulders. But she keeps talking.
“I know it’s hard for you when we have such similar tastes, yet Felix keeps choosing me. I’d be upset too.”
Right. There’s the Elena I know. My eyes narrow as she leans closer. “Maybe we can work together.”
I stand abruptly. “We already do.”
“You know what I mean, silly. Maybe we can collaborate on a project.”
My smile is so forced it hurts. I press my lips together hard. When I manage to talk, it’s through my teeth. “If we collaborate any further, we’re going to have to share a brain.”
She frowns as she follows me to the conference room for our morning meeting.
Tom, Alice and Nathan are already sitting around the spotless glass table. I don’t know how it manages to escape basic handprints and smudges, but it does, as if it dare not defy the exacting expectations of our boss.
Felix glides in a moment later, tiny espresso cup in his hand, gold Prada sunglasses perched on his nose. “Someone please tell me whose idea it was to paint this entire office white. It’s fucking blinding.”
“It was your idea,” Nathan deadpans. “Hangover, oh, fearless leader?”
Lucky for Nathan, he’s one of Felix’s best designers. And he knows it. Felix glares but does not reply.
With exaggerated care, Felix sets down his cup and sits back in his chair, folding one thin leg over the other. Dressed like an Italian film star from the 1950s, his ink-black hair immaculately combed and glossy, he could be from another era. Through the gray tint of his glasses, his dark gaze finds mine. “Well, hello, Fiona. I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Oh, you know, San Francisco can’t compare with New York City.”
Weak. So fucking weak.
His expression says much the same, and I fight not to cringe. Thankfully, he moves on. “Now then, where are we with the Meyer project?”
Nathan sits back, looking bored. “Ms. Meyer decided she wanted her bedroom candy-apple red. The entire room.”
“Then let her haul her ass down to The Home Depot and paint it herself.” Felix sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What did you tell her?”
“That a glossy red powder room would have more impact, and all her friends would be able to see it.”
A sniff tells us Felix is pleased. His head turns my way. Or Elena’s. I can’t be sure because she’s hovering at my side as usual. “Mrs. Peyton has decided that the cerulean blue silk drapes remind her of her first husband, Clyde. As she divorced him after finding him riding his hot little PA, Jonathan, that ‘simply won’t do.’ ”
“Go, Clyde,” Nathan murmurs with a cheeky click of his tongue.
Felix’s nose wrinkles. “Having seen Clyde, my sympathies go to Jonathan. Elena, what would you suggest?”
“About Clyde and Jonathan?” she squeaks.
I manage to hold in a wince.
Felix simply sniffs, this one annoyed. “About the drapery.”
A test. Felix loves to pop these little questions on us. Elena’s mouth opens, her gaze darting around the table as if one of us will mime the answer and save her.
As tests go, it isn’t a difficult one. The rest of Mrs. Peyton’s living room color scheme is set: deep, glossy mink-colored walls, low-slung ebony furniture covered in gold mohair, and dusky blue satin.
The silence stretches as Elena starts sputtering. “Um, well . . .”
Felix sighs and turns to me. “Fiona? Thoughts?”
My mind turns as I tap my pen on my sketch pad. This is my chance to gain ground and remind Felix what I can do. “I’m thinking of that Jonathan Alder chain-link print you fell in love with. The gold and cream—”
“Cream one,” Elena cuts in. She has her phone out and is frantically tapping on it as she beams at Felix. “Fiona and I were talking about it this morning, if you can believe it. I was saying how timeless that pattern was.”
My mouth is stuck open. Frozen in shock. Inside my head, I scream at myself to snap out of it, say something. She’s already holding up her phone. “If you like that idea, I’ve got a supplier on thirty-first who has it in stock.”
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh, and I turn back to Felix, who is smiling.
“I do love that fabric,” he says, swiveling his chair back and forth. “And it would work well . . .” He sits up. “Great work, Elena.”