Fixer for the Billionaire: A Spicy Billionaire Romantic Comedy (Seattle's Anderson Family)

Chapter 4

QUENTIN

8:21AM.

I check my watch again, for what feels like the hundredth time, then back at the two party planners in front of me.

In a boutique store that screams psychedelic dream, I”m waiting for any sign of Carmina”s arrival to our early party decor meeting.

My last three texts to her have gone unanswered. I fight the urge to call, turning instead to the engagement party planners we”ve hired.

”So, as I was saying, Puddle and Glitter—can I call you that? Great names, by the way, rolls right off the tongue—Carmina is never late. I mean, never. She schedules her sneezes. I”m telling you, something”s off.”

Puddle, with hair the color of an overcast sky hinting at an existential crisis, dismisses with a wave. ”Time is but a construct, Mr. Anderson. What truly matters is the essence we bring into this space. The vibe, you know?”

Glitter, who seems to have mistaken a craft store for her closet, sparkles in agreement. ”Yes, the ambiance is key. We envision a mix of elegance, whimsy, and a dash of what-the-hell-is-happening-here,” they add, eyes gleaming.

”Ambiance. Right. Because nothing says ”elegant wedding” like making an entrance on a unicorn under a disco ball. But seriously, as much as I love discussing the nature of time and the critical importance of vibe, we really need to track down Carmina.”

My anxious glance to the entrance doesn”t go unnoticed. Puddle, channeling a curious puppy vibe, tilts his head. ”You two must be something special, Mr. Anderson. Your energy spikes like a soap opera plot twist at the mere mention of her name.”

Glitter, now studying a sparkly tassel as if it”s the key to world peace, pipes up. ”Oh, is this a story of forbidden love? Star-crossed lovers, tragedy, office politics...or maybe just bad timing?”

I clench my jaw, staring at my phone. ”Something like that.”

”Ooh, intrigue,” Puddle teases.

”No. No intrigue. Just a misunderstanding.”

Glitter and Puddle exchange knowing looks. ”Ah, miscommunication. The downfall of many relationships,” Glitter nods solemnly.

Puddle offers a sympathetic pat. ”We”ve all been there, Mr. Anderson. It”s universally relatable. Maybe we can infuse some healing energy into your...situation.”

”It”s not a situation. I...” I sigh, realizing arguing is futile. Since arriving, my decor consultants have been a relentless duo of mystics, and escape is futile. ”Look, Carmina and I met at the Hare Holeton company retreat three years ago. It was supposed to be bonding over s”mores and team-building exercises. And we...bonded.”

”And then?” Glitter prompts.

”Then, well, we had our moment. Thought it was just a bit of fun, you know? But back at the office, it was like I”d transformed from Prince Charming into the office pariah overnight. She”s been so cold, I’ve considered wearing a parka to meetings.”

”Awww, young love,” Puddle coos, clasping his hands together. ”So beautiful, yet so fragile.”

”Maybe it”s not too late for a thaw. Every ice age ends, right?” Glitter suggests.

Puddle leans in, eyes twinkling. ”Intriguing, Quentin. Your spirit is like a kite in a storm. Maybe it”s rooted in your childhood? Your parents” dynamic, perhaps?”

”Um, I think we”re off track...” I try to interject, but they”re already deep in a discussion about my emotional state.

Glitter leans in, her gaze both intense and kind. ”Ah, I’m thinking the apple doesn”t fall far from the tree, perhaps? Your aura is telling me that you have a spirit of freedom, a desire to roam...”

”Okay, let”s not psychoanalyze me. Back to the task?”

”Yes, of course,” Puddle agrees, tapping a glitter-coated clipboard against his leg. ”But remember, Quentin, our past shapes us--”

”And I”d be more interested if it mattered, guys.” I exhale deeply, frustration mounting. ”My parents died in a car accident. Sixteen years ago.” I pause. ”And honestly, I”m more concerned about the party budget than adding magical creatures and ”70s dance nostalgia.”

Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I”m about to suggest something less extravagant than a unicorn (maybe a tastefully decorated llama?) when my phone buzzes.

Puddle and Glitter, mid-gape, freeze as I raise a finger.

”Hold that thought, Puddle. This is her,” I say, answering on speakerphone. ”Hey, Carmina. Everything okay? You didn”t get abducted by aliens, did you?”

In the background, Glitter mutters, ”Please say no, because alien abductions definitely aren”t covered in the party budget.”

Sighing, I start pacing, the boutique”s air chilling the back of my neck as if it”s been waiting for a moment like this. ”Why are you panting? Are you running?”

After a pause, Carmina”s breathless voice comes through. ”I might be... slightly stranded.”

From across the room, Glitter”s eyes go wide, and they whisper to Puddle, ”We definitely didn”t budget for an emergency helicopter pick-up.”

But before I can drill down on her location, Carmina spills it. ”I”m on the side of the road.”

”Wait, what? How”d you end up there?” I ditch the speakerphone as Puddle and Glitter share a look of concern.

”A couple of missteps,” her voice raspier than usual. ”So, here”s the deal... My tire blew, and the insurance company”s ”Rapid Response” was more ”No Response.” So, guess what? I channeled my inner mechanic and tried to change it myself.”

”You changing a tire? I thought your idea of manual labor was using a stapler.”

She huffs. ”Hilarious. For your information, I did an amazing job... until I drove on it. The spare didn”t survive. Now, it”s just me and the girls stranded.”

”Wait, the girls? Who are?—?”

”My sisters,” she interjects. The backdrop of traffic and her tone paint a clear picture. ”Was taking them to their activities this morning. Now, I”m stuck with a flat tire, a bored teenager, and a chatterbox pre-teen.” She pauses. ”So, I”m not making it today.”

Her admission makes me sigh.

To think, this meeting wasn”t even my idea. The Divine Cosmic Twins of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood might be entertaining, but a conference call would have sufficed.

But no, Carmina had to aim high and push for an in-person gathering.

Lesson learned: Never let Carmina”s ambition sway me again.

That was cute three years ago when she was the newbie. But I”ve learned the hard way how Carmina”s grand plans can backfire.

My mind drifts to a memory from an employee retreat three springs back. Her laughter. Her warm, honey-toned skin. Surrounded by cherry blossoms, she shared her vision to revamp the company”s social media. We spent the day drafting a proposal and laughing over drinks.

Now, that memory feels like a dream compared to today”s debacle.

Taking a deep breath, I consider my options. ”What if I come get you?”

She hesitates, then answers, her voice muffled as she talks to someone else. ”You don”t have to do that.”

”Of course I do,” I insist, as Puddle and Glitter nod in agreement, relieved at the prospect of rescheduling. ”It”s settled then. I”ll come pick you up, and we”ll reschedule for tomorrow.”

”Quentin,” Carmina says, her tone firming. ”I can call my insurance again. It”s not a big deal.”

”Look, you”re stuck on the side of the road, and with the weather looking grim, it”s not safe. Plus, it wouldn”t bode well for our... arrangement if I didn”t come to your rescue.”

”You”re right,” she concedes after a pause. “I”ll text you my location.”

I hang up, feeling a mix of triumph and relief.

It might not be efficient, but it spares me hanging out with ”WetSpot” and ”Sparkles” for another day.

As I wait for Carmina”s text, I realize I”ve never actually had to rescue her before. She”s always been the one to politely decline any help.

My thoughts drift to earlier conversations about Carmina”s standoffishness and my need to be ”unbound.” Likely, it”s her being with her sisters. I decide not to dwell on it.

Finally, her text arrives with her location. I grab my keys and head out, my heart beating an unfamiliar rhythm the whole way.