Page 88 of Perfect Satisfaction

“I... I’d like that.” Her voice is still hesitant.

“Meet you out here in twenty?”

“Twenty? You’re delusional. I need longer than that to look presentable.”

“You’re beautiful, Sula. You need clothes. Period.”

Her mouth falls open, but she doesn’t answer. She just scurries off to the suite of rooms that houses her wardrobe, reminding me of something else I want to talk to her about.

Might as well talk about it over food.

CHAPTERFORTY-TWO

Cheers to the architect of the hour, Kody Laurence!

Laurence Construction, based out of Portland, Oregon, made the top ten residential construction companies last year, pulling in net revenue of just under $4.5 billion dollars. This is the first time the custom construction designer made the list.

When asked about the honor, he humbly deferred to his family and friends for supporting his success. On speakerphone during the interview, one of his friends—identified as Northern Star Flights owner John Jennings—joked in the background, “I’m still waiting for my crown molding!”

The rest of the room broke up, laughing at what appears to be an inside joke.

—StellaNova

“You know there’s half a closet unused.It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you moved your clothes into the master suite,” Arek mumbles around a bite of eggs.

I contemplate this for a moment before deciding. “Yes. It really would be.”

His fork clatters to the side of the plate. An indignant expression crosses his face. “Well, pardon me for offering.”

With a laugh, I snag the back of our check and lean over the table. I draw a rough sketch of the penthouse and an outline of the master suite on one end, the main office—which reminds me far too much of the CEO’s office at MSW—and one of the guest bedrooms. Then I block off the common areas before drawing the door I had added to my space. “Behind here is a bedroom, office, and a closet every woman would weep for. It’s two bedrooms the size of the study.”

Arek chuckles. “Two?”

“Size matters, buddy. I wasn’t going to risk running out of space.”

“And that’s what’s back there that’s so private?” he demands.

No, what’s back there that’s so private are family photos. I hung the one in the closet and scattered the rest on every available flat surface within my office, but I don’t reply. Instead I distract him by asking, “Did you know Ward had the original penthouse remodeled by Kody Laurence?” I name the famous architect.

Arek’s mouth falls open. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. When we—I—wanted to make some changes, I shelled out some serious cash to ask his team to build me a fantasy closet.”

His face scrunches up. “You said, ‘you shelled out cash.’ I thought this was an MSW penthouse.”

Damn my tongue. “It is.”

“But why would you pay for the changes?”

“Because by the time I wanted to make the changes, I’d quit.” Not to mention I’d just finished telling JB to kiss my ass. “The reimbursements were never formalized.”

His face is outraged. “You got stuck with the bill?”

“In my world, contracts are key. Without one, you’re dead in the water. It’s fine. I’m getting to live here and for now my clothes are being treated like royalty.”

Just as I’m about to pull back, assuming he’s satisfied with my explanation, Arek asks, “Am I ever going to get to see this space before I move out.”

I feel that statement deep inside, in a place I never allowed myself to look.