Chapter 8 Piper
EIGHT
PIPER
The rest of my first week at work was smoother than the first three days.
I plied Mila with coffee to beg for forgiveness, met Todd, the hiring manager, and introduced myself to half a dozen engineers who poked their heads above their computer screens only long enough to nod at me.
I also shook hands with three eagle-eyed women who made up the procurement and finance department, exchanging an awkward smile with Nora.
A few grizzled old men passed through the office once in a while, wearing fluorescent jackets and steel-toed boots, and were introduced to me as site supervisors for various portions of the job.
Ollie usually came in first thing in the morning and charmed all the ladies while checking for goodies in the office kitchen.
On Friday, he made a point to veer over to my office and knock on the doorframe. “Settling in okay?”
I glanced over, pushing back from the gorgeous mid-century modern desk I’d found buried under a mound of junk at a local thrift shop. “Everyone’s been really nice,” I replied, smiling.
He grinned. “That’s because we need you.” He wandered into the room and glanced at my inspiration board, then picked up a couple of fabric swatches I had lying on my desk, thumbing between them with long, dexterous fingers. “You’re going to save this project.”
“Uh-huh,” I replied with a laugh as I leaned back in my new, velvet-upholstered office chair. I’d found that at the local upholsterer’s shop; a client had decided not to buy it, and he was happy to let it go for a steal. “Maybe I’ll save the job. Maybe the job will save itself.”
He winked at me, then straightened as we heard a throat clearing. Ollie turned.
Glancing over my shoulder, I arched a brow. “Rhett,” I greeted.
He shifted his gaze from me to the man in a bright orange site uniform hovering over my desk. “What are you doing here? Isn’t the outdoor patio pour going on today?”
“Concrete trucks are on their way,” Ollie confirmed, tapping the radio clipped to his belt. “I’m going to escort them from here to site.”
Rhett said nothing. He simply raised his brows. Ollie tossed the fabric swatches back on my desk, put his hands up, and backed away. “See you around, Piper. The team usually grabs drinks on Friday afternoons. You should come this week.”
Ollie’s radio crackled and unintelligible gibberish came through the speaker. “There’s the first truck,” Rhett said, stepping back so the other man could walk out.
Ollie turned long enough to grin at me. “Catch ya.”
“Bye, Ollie,” I said, then braced myself as Rhett took his place, looming over the side of my desk, his broad shoulders blotting out the light from the pendant above.
He thumbed the samples I’d unpinned from the corkboard and arranged on my desk. “What are these?”
“Samples I got from a local upholsterer I mentioned on Wednesday.”
“Yeah, but what are these colors?” Disgust dripped off every word.
I reared back. “Rust red with simple white stitching. Rich cream and warm taupe. Navy accents. A rich, cozy palette that feels luxe while being comfortable.” Best of both worlds.
Rhett had started shaking his head halfway through my explanation and didn’t stop until I was done. “No. I told you we want this to feel refined. Not like we’re visiting Grandpa’s cabin.”
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. I was glad to be sequestered away in a supply closet so no one could see how much I hated his criticism. “I see,” I said, managing to keep my voice level. “Perhaps you should have specified what color palette you’re after.”
“I want something sleek and refined, Piper. Luxury. Minimalism.”
“You want minimalist luxury?” I repeated, incredulous. “Have you forgotten people will be coming to the lodge to get in out of the cold? You need warmth, Rhett. Something that makes people want to stay and eat and drink and spend lots and lots of money. In what world is minimalism the way to go?”
“Is there something wrong here, folks?” Mila smiled at the two of us, her shoulder-length hair swaying as she poked her head around the doorframe.
That was the other thing about this “office.” Everyone walked by at some point or another on their way to the washroom. I got a lot of curious looks throughout the day, and I could be sure that anything I did would be noticed by all.
“I’m starting to understand why things didn’t work out with your previous designer,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Look at this!” He held up a swatch of plaid fabric—fabulous, timeless plaid, I might add—holding it like it was the mouse from Monday’s site visit, dangling between his fingertips. “If you can’t deliver on the design brief, I’ll find someone who will.”
Ah. There it was. Now I understood why he was pushing the minimalist luxury angle. None of that was conveyed in the original design brief I’d used to put together the proposal that got me the job—but Rhett wanted to use any excuse possible to get rid of me.
He hadn’t been able to chastise me for expensing a desk and a chair, so now he was going after my professional capabilities. I hated that a little worm of insecurity wriggled in the pit of my stomach.
He popped a brow.
“I hear you loud and clear.” Feeling petty, I pulled my trash can out from under my desk and swept my arm across the surface, letting all the swatches and samples fall into it. “Better?”
Rhett held my gaze. “Mila,” he growled without looking at the other woman. “Leave us.”
The administrator gave me a sympathetic smile and ducked away. Rhett reached back—he didn’t even have to take a step—and closed the door.
We were alone.
His presence crowded me, even though he hadn’t moved any closer. The walls felt closer, the light a little bit weaker.
I hated that he was using his size to intimidate me. He might not be doing it consciously, but he was doing it. I hated that I was nervous. I hated that even now, not even a full week into my new job, I felt like everything was going to crumble.
And it was Rhett’s fault. He was the one who pretended to be a benevolent god, when all he was was a clever businessman. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
“You were right, on Monday, when you said we needed each other,” Rhett said, his voice slithering in all the dark corners of the small room.
I braced myself, lifting my chin. “But?”
“But make no mistake, Darling, when the lodge opens, you’ll be on the way out.”
“You’re going to fire me?”
He huffed, leaning his knuckles on the desk to get in my face. “I’m going to make your life so miserable you beg me to let you go.”
“I’ll never beg you for anything,” I hissed in reply. “You can count on that.”
His eyes were black. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“Just fire me now and be done with it,” I shot back, even though the words made my stomach tighten. Being fired by Rhett Baldwin would definitely make me a persona non grata in Lovers Peak. I’d have to leave town.
But I’d survived worse. I would survive him—and whatever he had to throw at me.
Rhett straightened, and I tried to hide the sigh of relief at the extra few inches of distance between us. I glared up at him—and that was when I saw the tightening of his jaw.
And I got it. Smiling, I said, “But you can’t fire me, can you? Because people like me, and it would make you the bad guy.”
“I can’t fire you because I need to get this lodge open.”
“No,” I said, sure of myself, “that’s not it. You can’t fire me because I’ve started making friends, I’ve done good work even in my first week here, and I’m a single mom with two young boys. Your reputation would never recover.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Darling.”
“I know you’d be a heartless monster to fire me.”
“Maybe I am a heartless monster.”
I huffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time I had to deal with one of those.”
Something happened to Rhett’s face then, a flicker that I couldn’t quite place.
Maybe he thought I was being melodramatic, and I probably was.
Jacob wasn’t a monster. He was a decent father when he was around.
But he was also so selfish that it was hard to grapple with the reality of it, hard to think of how much of my life I’d wasted trying to pretend he truly cared about me.
“We have an all-staff meeting on Monday morning,” Rhett finally replied, turning for the door. “You’ll present a status report of the design of the lodge.”
“The designs you just threw in the trash?”
“You threw them in the trash, Darling.”
In the quirk of his lips and the blackness of his eyes, I saw the real Rhett.
The man who would gladly make my life a living hell in order to make me leave here as soon as the job was done.
He was definitely doing it on purpose. He wanted me to trip and fall on my face so he could let me go without being the bad guy.
And Rhett would do anything to avoid looking like the bad guy.
He had his precious reputation to uphold.
I would love nothing more than to give him what he wanted—but I needed this job, and the man across from me held all the power. So I took a deep breath, let it out, and then nodded. “Sleek, minimalist luxury,” I said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Rhett’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more as he stalked out of my office and out of sight.
As the afternoon rolled around, Mila stopped by my desk with a smile. “You coming out with the team for a Friday drink?”
That meant more time in Rhett’s presence, which was not going to happen.
He’d already dumped a presentation in my lap just before the weekend.
He wasn’t going to take up any more of my time.
Fridays ended around 2:00 p.m. in this office, apparently, which meant I’d have an hour or so to myself before the boys got home.
I could have a bath, or a glass of wine, or I could sit on the couch and stare into space, and no one would need me. Glorious.