I settle in and attempt to concentrate on a contract, with little success. The incident in the lift keeps returning to distract me. Which does nothing for my already sour mood.
I walk into the conference room ten minutes late and do a quick double-take. Standing at the head of the table next to the wall-mounted screen is the woman from the lift. So, not a trophy wife at all. Well, perhaps she is, missing ring notwithstanding. But that’s not why she’s here today.
Without acknowledging my tardiness, I drop into my preferred seat at the table—we are all such creatures of habit—and cross my arms. “I have twenty minutes. Let’s get on with it.”
“Thank you all for taking the time to meet with me. As I understand it, your objective is to update and modernise the offices of Carter, Pierce and Millwood, while at the same time honouring the history of your long-established firm—” she starts in a voice like top-shelf scotch. Ugh. I could use a drink right about now, despite the fact it’s not even midday.
“We already know that,” I speak over the top of her, earning me a glare from Harry.
“Yes, of course you do.” She gives me another one of those blinding subtext smiles. “I simply wanted to make sure you know I understand what it is you are looking for.”
And then she proceeds to ignore me. For sixteen minutes, she doesn’t once look my way. Not even a glance. I have no idea what she has said, and nor do I care. All I can hear is the teacher’s voice from Charlie Brown as I watch her lips move. Her quite luscious lips, I can’t help but notice. Which, of course, irritates me even further. The last thing I need right now is an inconvenient attraction. Especially with a potential work colleague. Not to mention I have a girlfriend. Of sorts.
The snap of her laptop lid brings me back to consciousness.
“Thank you so much for your time. Does anyone have any questions?”
“Oh, I don’t think so …” Harry looks around, eyebrows raised, at the other partners, some of whom look like they’re drooling. Others appear mesmerised. “That was exceedingly thorough. As you are aware, we have a couple of other designers to speak to, but we are anxious to get started, so we should be able to let you know by the end of the week.”
That’s it. I’m up, out of my seat and out the door without a word. I need some space to breathe. In the end, I may have to concede on this, but I don’t have to like it.
Alone in my office, I drop my forehead to the worn leather and wood of the antique partner’s desk. Dad’s desk. It has been a year to the day since I watched the paramedics battle to save my father in the foyer of this office. Battle and fail. The desk—the entire office—still smells like Dad. Like his after-shave and those ghastly cigars he smoked when everyone else had gone home for the night. This desk, the chair, the bookcases, even the masses of leather-bound legal books—modern copies of which are also kept in the legal library—belonged to his father before him.
The room is a constant reminder of my father and how I never quite lived up to his expectations. My sister says I wear it like a hair-shirt, and maybe she’s right. It scratches at my soul to be here day in and day out, reminding me of those expectations and the path he set out for me at birth. A path I promised to follow. Promised on his deathbed. Well, the floor, at least. But lately, it feels as if I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere.
I sit bolt upright at the soft knock on the door and try to pull my face into a neutral expression. “Come in.”
I’m surprised when it’s Harry. Soft is distinctly un-Harry-like. He settles his massive frame on the sofa, which means I have to get up from the desk and sit on the sofa opposite him. He searches my face and gives a gusty sigh.
“How are you coping today?”
“I’m fine, Harry,” I reply, although we both know I’m lying. “Apart from wasting almost an hour of my time in a meeting about primping up the office.”
“Hmm. Well, there was no need to be quite so rude to Lulu MacLeod. I understand you’re not on board with this redecorating, but it has to be done. Even your father agreed.”
I feel an uncharacteristic twinge of regret. Perhaps I was unnecessarily rude to Ms MacLeod. But after the episode in the lift, I couldn’t seem to help myself. To say my emotions are running close to the surface today would be an oversimplification. Unfortunately, Lulu MacLeod copped the brunt of that. “You might be stretching the definition ofagreeda little bit, don’t you think?”
Harry frowns. “Yes, I guess so. But it’s happening, nonetheless. And Lulu MacLeod gave us a brilliant sales pitch. Although I am sorry it had to be today. It’s a tough day for all of us.”
Harry’s eyes are sorrowful and, not for the first time, I wonder how he and my father ever became friends. Chalk and cheese. Yet there’s no denying they were close.
I sigh and rub both hands over my face in irritation. “I know it needs doing, but I don’t have to like it.” It’s clear Harry doesn’t understand how conflicted I am by the whole enterprise, and I don’t have the energy to explain it to him. I’m not even sure I can explain it to myself. “Just so we’re clear, there will be no changes in my office. At all.”
“No touching anything of your dad’s,” Harry agrees. “A coat of paint and carpet, that’s all. To match the rest of the office. Oh, and maybe new sofas…” Harry's grin is sheepish.
“Jesus. This had better not interfere with workflow.” I stand, arms crossed, signalling to Harry the conversation is over.
“Try to keep an open mind, hmm?”
That manages to bring a smile to my face. Open-minded is something Pierce men are not.
Chapter Two
Lulu
Wow.IfIhadthought he was obnoxious in the lift, he really outdid himself in that meeting. He didn’t bother to introduce himself, but Harry referred to him as Nicholas. Whoever he is, he came across as an entitled arse in serious need of an attitude adjustment.
On the plus side, I aced the presentation. I’d nailed my outfit. Well, almost. There isn’t much I can do with my crazy hair. But the high-waisted, wide-legged linen pants paired with the white shirt were the perfect mix of corporate and creative. I looked smart and put together, and I had a killer pitch. So, I was confident. Despite my tardy lift nemesis.
