5. Chapter Five
Chapter five
Kennedy
From: alexandernelson@nelsonsignature.com
To: kennedyReed@nelsonsignature.com
CC: tristannelson@nelsonsignature.com
Date: January 18, 2024
Subject: St. Lucia Proposal
Kennedy,
Congratulations! We are thrilled to announce that your proposal on the St. Lucia project has been accepted. Please see Tristan to sort out the details.
The company values how hard and attentive you worked on this project. Please know that you’re a valued member of Nelson Signature. Keep up the great work, Kennedy.
Regards,
Xander
PS- Try not to kill each other.
PPS- Feel free to kick his ass if needed. He’s a stubborn one.
Alexander Nelson, Development Manager
Nelson Signature Hotels & Resort s
New York, New York
Squealing, I reread the email for the third time. I can hear Lana running up the stairs seconds before my bedroom door flies open.
“What? What’s going on?” Her question is full of concern as she holds the toothbrush away from her mouth. White bubbles outline her lips as her hair pours out from her claw clip.
I throw myself back in bed, kicking my arms and legs in celebration before sitting up and bringing myself to my knees.
“Tell me right now!” Lana shrieks, her voice a mixture of worry and excitement.
"They want my design for the St. Lucia property!”
Lana jumps on the bed, toothbrush still in hand and foam now dripping down her chin, but it doesn’t stop her from sharing the joy. “I told you, you would crush it, babe!”
Only the words are mushed together and sound like "I tollf you, youf woulf crusf if, bafe!"
“Oh my gosh, Lana.” I laugh when I realize my best friend is jumping on the bed with me while toothpaste hangs from her mouth. “Go finish brushing your teeth, you dork.”
In an instant, she’s off the bed and running into my en suite bathroom, and I lie back again with a sigh.
I can’t believe my design was picked. I knew it was good, but there has been this niggling feeling inside that told me I wasn’t good enough. After the Chief Development Officer reacted to the fact that I was a— gasp —woman, I thought he would demand the first group’s designs be selected, since they were all men. Even though their project was horrible and clashed with the Nelson brand, he seemed to love their pitch .
“So how are we celebrating?” she asks, voice cheerful, as she jumps back on the bed next to me.
“Rumors for happy hour?”
“You got it, babe.”
Turning to face Lana, we both squeal and kick our legs. Cheesy smiles spread across our faces as the realization of how important winning the pitch competition was. Rolling over, Lana smacks my butt playfully. The thwack echoes off our walls and causes us to laugh.
Me: I GOT THE ST. LUCIA PROJECT
Olivia: Go, big sis!
Me: I’m heading into the office now. I still can’t believe it.
Olivia: Did you dress your best to rub it in Golden Boy’s face?
Me: *Smirking emoji* oh little sis, you know I did.
Olivia: *three laughing emojis* I love you! Go crush it, sis! I’m going back to sleep for a few.
Me: OMG I totally forgot how early it was in Arizona. Love you! Miss your face .
Pulling up outside Nelson Signature, I splurged this morning and took an Uber instead of the train. I didn’t want to risk anyone spilling something on my dress. After thanking the driver, I send him a tip and rating as I exit the silver sedan. The streets bustle with people rushing to their jobs. Sounds of horns honking and sirens fill the air while a cold, winter breeze can be felt even through my wool trench coat.
I’m greeted by one of the security guards as I walk through the revolving doors, and I raise my badge like I do every morning. The sun’s rays cascade through the pristine lobby, reflecting off the shiny, white marble floors, where my black stilettos click and the silk fabric of my dress kisses my ankles with every step. Rolling my shoulders backward, I hold my head high, emitting the pride I’m feeling. It helps that I’m wearing my favorite dress, the dress I wear when I’m feeling my most confident.
I still cannot believe my pitch won. Giddiness seeps through my veins, and I can’t fight the grin that has been so desperate to break free.
There’s a line waiting at the elevator, and I step behind the last gentleman who I’ve seen before. I think he’s in finance on the sixteenth floor. He watches my approach, trailing his gaze from my feet to my face in a slow perusal. The metal doors slide open and Mr. Finance steps to the side, holding the door open as I enter the crammed car as people make room for us.
“Which floor?” his deep voice asks from beside me.
“Fifty-third, please.”
With a nod, he clicks the button for my floor and his, which I was right in assuming he was one of the finance guys.
He turns his attention back to me, his navy-sleeved arm brushing against mine, and I take in his chiseled jaw and fine-line wrinkles around his eyes that crinkle when he smiles. “Ah, you’re one of Nelson’s. How is it on top?”
I quirk an eyebrow and feel my cheeks flame at the innuendo. “Well, I’m on their third floor, so not quite the top.”
“With legs like that, I thought you’d be one of Nelson’s girls. He always has the prettiest assistants.” I cringe at his backhanded compliment and his implication that I could only be an assistant.
“You’re looking at one of our top architects, Baldwin,” a voice I instantly recognize calls from the back.
Looking over my shoulder, I find none other than Tristan Nelson standing in the back of the car. His jaw is set tight as he eyes the gentleman—if I could even call him that—to my right.
Mr. Finance chuckles as a smarmy grin quirks the corner of his mouth. Onlookers watch the showdown between the two beefy suits. “Oh look, if it isn’t a Nelson. Say, how is it slumming it with the commoners instead of sitting in royalty like the rest of the men in your family?”
Energy shifts in the tight space as I shift on my heels uncomfortably. “Jealousy looks bad on you, Baldwin. Still upset we didn’t want your moronic ass on our finance team?”
Thankfully, the doors chime on the sixteenth floor, and a few people disperse out of the crowded car, including Mr. Finance. Heat blazes in his glare as he gives Tristan one final stare-down before the doors close.
I tilt my head, risking a peek, and am met with swirling amber staring back at me. Snapping my head forward, I won’t let Tristan Nelson ruin this monumental day for me .
It’s not long before we are the final two on the car as it arrives on our floor. I refuse to acknowledge he’s here. I didn’t need his help with the douche from finance, and I certainly don’t want to deal with his cruel jokes.
Rolling my shoulders back, I step onto the shiny marble floor. The ding of the elevator has heads turning in our direction from where they are gathered at our small reception desk.
“Congratulations!” Zoe greets from where she’s leaning her hip against the desk, a white and green to-go cup in her hands. A few of our colleagues clap their hands. I guess the word spread quicker than I thought.
A blush creeps onto my cheeks, thanks to my insecurity of being the center of attention, but I can’t help but smile. My strides quicken as I walk in the direction of Zoe and the coffee that is waiting for me. She hands me the cup, which warms my chilled hands immediately. Bringing the cup to my lips, I savor the cozy flavors of sweet pistachio and brown buttery toppings as the flavors burst on my tongue.
“This is delicious,” I moan. “Thank you.”
“Celebratory coffee is a must when you deserve it.” Zoe smiles, and I’m so thankful for the friendship I have with her. Even in this competitive work environment, she never lets it affect our friendship. We are constantly working together to lift each other up and not beat the other out.
“You look stunning,” someone else says, approaching the group. “And congratulations, by the way.”
I smile at Victoria before pulling her in for a celebratory hug. “Congratulations to you too, Victoria.”
A throat clears before his rich tone commands the gathered group. “It’s after nine. Don’t you all have work to do?”
Shaking my head, I ignore him and let his sister send him a glare. Zoe, Victoria, and I move in the direction of our cubicles without another word. Lighting from the office mixed with the golden cast of the New York morning causes my dress to shimmer subtly and bring out the deep emerald hue complimenting my copper-red hair.
A long slit slices up my leg, showing off my lightly bronzed tan—from a bottle, of course—while still being office appropriate. Sleeves meet my wrist in a tight button band while allowing a soft balloon effect up my arms, where it meets the high neckline and trails down the tight-fitting bodice. Everything about this dress screams chic while allowing me to feel like I’m wearing armor gearing up for a long battle in the professional space.
I feel strong. Powerful. Sexy.
Which is why heads turn as we stroll by.
“My brother can’t keep his eyes off of you,” Victoria whispers as we walk around the backside of the section of cubicles where my desk sits.
“He’s probably just contemplating how he’s going to make my life miserable for the next twelve-to-eighteen months since he’s now my boss on this project—or my death.”
Zoe slides across the floor in her desk chair to my side. “Or how he’s going to strip you out of your dress and ravish you on his desk, glass windows, and everything.”
“Ew, that’s my brother,” Victoria says, wrinkling her face in disgust as her body shivers.
“That’s never going to happen,” Victoria and I say at the same time, though my stomach does a weird flip at the visual of that ravishing .
Zoe laughs and replies, “You just wait,” she sing-songs as she rolls back to her desk. Victoria congratulates me again, and before I know it, I’m left alone with my celebratory coffee, still thinking about Zoe’s comment.
Once upon a time, I thought Tristan Nelson was attractive. Who wouldn’t? A small-town girl moves to the big city, finding herself in the same lecture hall as a perfectly polished guy with trendy clothes that look like they were made for him. He’s kept the trimmed beard that frames his chiseled jaw, and his rich brown hair is still styled in his intentionally messy way. Only now he uses more hair products and has upgraded to tailored suits.
Too bad his personality is the complete opposite of his appearance.
The day flew by in a blur of meetings, brainstorming, and sketching. At a quarter to five, Victoria traipses up to my desk, a brimming smile taking over her face. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” she coos.
Spinning in my seat to face her, I get the suspicion that Zoe and Victoria have been up to something all day. They have been eerily quiet, both in person and through our instant messenger chat.
“I still have another hour of work to put in.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head and turns me around to face my computer. “As the owner’s daughter, I’m demanding you shut down, gather your things, and leave the office with me without asking any questions.”
I chuckle. “Oh my gosh, Victoria, you did not just pull the owner’s daughter's card.”
She raises her finger in a matter-of-fact way. “I most certainly did. Now do as I say, or I’ll have Tristan write you a warning.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re cruel, Victoria Nelson. So cruel. ”
She folds her arms across her chest as Zoe laughs from the cube next to me. Victoria is vibrating with giddy energy, and I have a feeling that whatever they have concocted will be quite a delight.