Chapter Thirty-Five – Verity
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
VERITY
I really did not think any of this through.
I sprint down the busy street, sidestepping tourists and almost tripping over a homeless man camped out on the corner.
I grip my Goyard within an inch of its life, knuckles white as I try to prevent the thing from swinging loose in my marathon and spilling on the ground. The last thing I need is another delay.
Again, this is why I don’t go out on Thursdays.
I cannot believe I forgot we are presenting to Frankie Jones.
In all fairness, I’d been under the assumption that he was meeting us at the office.
My mistake because obviously a man like him wouldn’t have the decency to bring himself down to our meager level.
No. We have to meet him at his apartment to present the deck.
Which is why I am running three minutes late to the meetup spot Anne texted me twenty-four minutes ago. I’d been brushing my hair in my apartment back uptown, making sure that no one would be able to smell or see the sex on me, when my phone pinged.
Frankie lives all the way in NoHo, almost thirty minutes away. The red line was running late today as it was, so everything was a total nightmare.
The only thing keeping my anxiety at bay is that Cullen had been with me and calmed me down a fraction.
I bank right at the next intersection, clocking the large apartment complex with a huge, shining metallic 207 hammered above the revolving door.
Bingo.
I give the street a quick left-right look before jaywalking, keeping an eye on the taxi that seemed to be increasing in speed at my illegal crossing—as if I were the only person in the city who doesn’t obey traffic signals.
As soon as I push into the lobby, Anne clocks me. She lets out a disappointed huff, almost glaring.
“About time.”
“Sorry. Trains were delayed.”
“Whatever. Come on.”
I follow her through the lobby over to the elevator bank, where Jenna is chatting with Frankie’s agent, Gary. The skeezy man with his oil-slicked hair gives Anne and me appreciative once-overs.
“Nice of you to join us, girls.”
I keep the smile plastered on my face even though his words send shivers down my spine. I’ve only interacted with him via email previously but had gathered from Anne’s snide remarks just how creepy he could be.
He buzzes us into the elevator, and we ride up the forty-two floors to Frankie’s apartment—or maybe it’s Frankie and Bridget’s apartment, given the plush pink welcome mat outside the front door. Gary punches in a code and sweeps his arm out for us to enter.
“Take a seat at the dining table. I’ll grab us all some waters.”
The three of us nod our heads and make our way to the large white table. This place is absolutely ginormous. I didn’t even know you could get apartments this large in the city. I’d thought Cullen’s place was pretty impressive, but this makes it look mediocre.
I smile to myself, filing that tidbit away for later to tease him.
I continue glancing around the apartment, admiring the décor, which only furthers my assumption that Bridget lives here as well, when a moan filters into the silence. I freeze, head tilting slightly.
Odd.
I shake it off, joining Anne at the table as she opens her laptop and pulls up the final slide deck. Not even a moment later, the same moan echoes again.
This time, I know I didn’t imagine it because Anne gives me a wary glance.
Gary clears his throat as he places five bottles of sparkling water on the table. “Frankie. Get out here.”
A strange tension settles over the room as more grunts filter out, prompting Gary to give us a tight smile and say, “Excuse me,” before turning down a short hall and banging on a door. A beat passes before he returns to us, a few wrinkles marring his forehead.
We have our slide deck set up on the laptop and the PMS samples laid out next to it, waiting for the client.
“God, Gary, don’t you know not to bother me when I’m balls deep, man?”
A half naked Frankie Jones comes strolling into the room. Seriously, the guy is only wearing a pair of designer boxers.
“Oh my God,” Jenna whispers, immediately turning around.
My eyes linger for a second out of pure shock before I also angle my head away.
“Jesus Christ, there are people here?”
There’s shuffling and then more slamming of doors. All the while, the three of us from Delute keep our eyes on the ground and wait.
“Ladies, sorry about that.” A chair squeaks as Frankie pulls it back and joins us, fully clothed this time but still smelling distinctly of sex. “Seems I got my days mixed up.”
“Not a worry, Mr. Jones. We should’ve followed up.” Jenna gives him her sunniest smile as though we didn’t send his team thirty emails yesterday and his own agent isn’t at the table with us right now.
“These things happen.” He waves his hand nonchalantly, buying into the bullshit.
We spend the next two hours going over the deck and then listening to all the changes Frankie has in mind.
He seems to have the attention span of a rock, and the ideas he is coming up with sound utterly horrible.
The only positive is that his agent wrangles the worst of them in, which has me convinced that he is the only reason why Frankie isn’t in a mountain of debt from bad investments.
I also have an inkling that Bridget must pay for a lot of his stuff, based on the way he keeps referencing her when it comes to some of the pricing.
I really don’t like this guy.
Ugh. This is why I wish I could just pick my own clients to work with.
By the time we are finished going over everything, my emotional battery is at fifty percent. Still, I try to keep the pleasant smile on my face as Gary gets up and leads us back out of the apartment.
We are almost at the door when I hear a muffled feminine voice that isn’t Jenna or Anne. I glance back over my shoulder to see a tall, model-like woman pop out from the hallway wearing a silky white robe over her brown skin. She’s only there for a second before she dips back into the hallway.
The three of us awkwardly exchange a glance, the same thought crossing through all of our minds as Gary practically nudges us all out of the apartment and into the elevator.
“I don’t have to remind you all that you signed an NDA, correct?” His skeezy smile is brittle and thin as we walk out into the lobby.
“Of course not,” Jenna placates. “We’ll have the revisions for Mr. Jones’ review on Monday, and then hopefully we can have everything sorted for you to send to your manufacturing and production partners.”
He gives us a short nod and then heads back into the elevator.
We jump in a rideshare at Jenna’s insistence and head to the office.
It’s a surprisingly nice ride, the three of us bonding over our mutual annoyance of Frankie Jones and the audacity the man seems to have.
It’s a change of pace compared to the way we typically stick to dry work conversations or—in the case of Anne and me—thinly veiled competitive jabs.
The earlier anxiety that had been bubbling in my stomach has abated, and I walk into the office in a pretty good mood.
I barely drop my bag at my desk when there is a short rap on the side of my cubicle. I look up, and my heart just about stops in my chest.
“See me in my office.”
Celine breezes past without a pause in her gait, but I feel like I was just hit by a hurricane. I drop everything, following behind her to the corner office.
“Take a seat.”
She slips into her large leather office chair, the stunning city skyline shining through the windows behind her. I clock the building I’d picked out from Cullen’s window this morning and swallow thickly, dropping into the uncomfortable armchair across from her desk.
The last time I’d been in this situation was after the Kelton event, when I’d been sure she’d seen Cullen and me together.
This feels like déjà vu.
Does she know I spent the night with him? Oh God, can she see the sex on my skin, in my cheeks or my hair? People say you get a certain glow after sex, that there is this happiness that naturally filters into your energy—is that what she is seeing?
Please tell me my boss doesn’t know that I had sex with her ex-husband.
“I wanted to talk to you briefly about an opportunity that is coming up.”
And just like last time, I have gotten into my head again.
She isn’t talking about Cullen; it is work. It is always work with Celine.
“I’m all ears.”
“HP Energy did a rerun of your ads recently, and the response is just as positive as it was previously. One of the clients I met at the Kelton event reached out to inquire about the designer. It’s an interesting opportunity and has a high revenue tag associated with it.
Normally something of this level would be assigned to a manager or someone with a little more experience, but you’ve been surprising me recently, Verity.
You’ve shown me that you can be professional.
That you know when to speak and when not to.
You have also shown me that you understand your place and how to be discreet. ”
Oh, she has no idea how discreet I truly could be.
“I’ll admit, I’m hesitant to assign this client to you. You’re still a little too green. Which is why I’ve decided to have Davina handle the negotiations. However, if it all comes to pass—would you be up to lead the project?”
I have no clue what the project is—if it is product branding, or website design, or what—for all I know, it could be completely out of my wheelhouse…but there isn’t a chance in hell I’d pass up the opportunity Celine is handing to me.
“Yes. You can count on me.”
“Good.” She turns to her desktop, clicking her mouse around. “Annual reviews are coming up soon. Who knows, maybe there’s some growth in your future if this goes well. Then again, I don’t need to remind you that if there are any issues…” she trails off, not needing to expound upon her threat.
It is always like this with Celine. She can never just be nice, she always has to wield a double-edged sword.
“Of course, I understand.”
“Good, because—” she pauses, her expression souring as she reads something on her phone. “That fucker.” The curse comes out of nowhere, filled with pure venom. When her eyes flick up to me, they blaze with a cold blue flame. “I have to make a call. See yourself out.”
“Yes, I—”
“Darcy, what the hell do you mean?” She cuts me off, having already forgotten about my existence as she raises her phone to her ear.
I don’t even know how she managed to dial someone that quickly.
“I don’t care what he said. You make it work.
That’s why I pay you. Or do I need to get your father involved? ”
I slip out of the room, quietly clicking the glass door shut behind me.
I have a feeling that the “he” being mentioned is Cullen; there is no one else who brings out that venomous side to Celine with quite the same fury.
For all that Celine teased about glowing opportunities and advancements in my career, I know I am still walking a thin line because if she ever found out about my involvement with her ex…she’d decimate me until I am rubble beneath her feet.