Chapter Three
Julian
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I always prided myself on being very decisive. I never hesitated or changed my mind on things, and that had served me well in business. I’d rarely felt guilty regarding my decisions, but apparently there was a first time for everything. When I woke up the next morning, I started replaying the conversation in my mind that I’d had with my assistant about the float.
It all came back to me easily as I sipped my coffee while looking down the street from my balcony. I lived in the French Quarter, only two streets away from the bar and office. It was so quiet in the morning that it was almost bizarre, considering how crazy it got at night.
Around Christmas, my assistant told me that the company producing everything for the float we were sponsoring had been flooded.
“They assured us they're still on track to deliver, but we have a clause that can get us out.”
I’d simply told her, "Make sure we’ll get everything we need on time. But looking for another supplier sounds better."
That was it. I didn't ask her for details. I didn't follow up. That’s how I operated. I simply gave instructions to my employees and trusted that they’d follow through.
I'd gotten the first angry email from Georgie on Christmas Day, which was what had alerted me that my assistant had switched suppliers. I’d been so annoyed that it ruined my Christmas, and my family picked up on it too. I'd never seen anyone react so unprofessionally.
But her words from last night filtered back to me. "You know as well as I do that that contract was drawn up by my own grandmother, not by a lawyer." Was that true, or was it just an attempt to manipulate me?
Fuck it. I didn't know one thing about her company. I'd assumed it was a big conglomerate, like everything was these days. And I’d figured it was a standard clause in their contracts, not something a despondent business owner came up with two generations ago.
Oh, for fuck's sake, Julian! Forget about it. The woman was just trying to get to you .
And yet... she’d seemed seriously desperate. I didn't like that. I always struck good deals, but I didn't take advantage of people. I didn't trample all over them.
Georgie was a spitfire. The way she’d challenged me had been hot . Her blonde hair, blue eyes, and tight sweater definitely got my attention. But I was disappointed by how unprofessional she was. Otherwise, she was just my type.
For fuck’s sake. It didn't matter how attractive she was, or that I woke up this morning still thinking about her lips and had a hard-on that wouldn’t quit. It was absolutely a no-go.
I took in a deep breath to cool off—to no avail. My mind was working furiously, trying to remember where Georgie's store was. I’d deleted her email, but I simply couldn't push this to the back of my mind. So I was going to deal with it.
Stepping back inside my living room, I grabbed the phone and called my assistant. I never disturbed her on weekends unless there was an emergency. This wasn't exactly one, but it felt like it.
"Oh my God, Julian. What's wrong?" she answered breathlessly.
"Relax. No emergency," I assured her.
"Oh, okay. You scared me."
"What’s the name of the company making everything for the float?”
"Southern Carnival. It's one of the biggest producers in the South."
"No, the one we used before."
She sighed. "You got some angry emails again? I'm truly sorry. I tried to block her email, but the woman won't back down. But I can deal with her. I can put our lawyers—”
"No, just tell me the name."
"Let me check.” After a few seconds, she said, “She's got a store in the Quarter, Books & Beads. The address is...”
I committed the address to memory and thanked her.
After hanging up, I looked up the business hours. They were open today. The photo that appeared in the Google search shocked me. It looked like a quaint little mom-and-pop store.
Good God, this is who we've been using for decades? That didn't seem right.
They opened in half an hour, which just gave me just enough time to get dressed and have another coffee.
One thing I enjoyed most about living in the Quarter was that I was within walking distance of practically everything I needed. This place was the center of my existence. But then again, most of my family had businesses in the Quarter too. My grandmothers had a fragrance shop on Dumaine. My mom ran a gallery two streets away. Our flagship restaurant, LeBlanc & Broussard, was on Royal Street. We owned many establishments throughout the whole city, but there was definitely a higher concentration of them in the Quarter.
On the way, I noticed a few groups of tourists, which indicated that the Carnival season had unofficially started already. Once the celebrations were in full swing, the streets would be packed at all times.
Books & Beads was on Burgundy Street, which was deserted at this hour. There was a coffee shop and a small pastry shop right next to her store. At first I thought it was closed because it was dark inside, but then I noticed someone moving around. It was Georgie. Damn it, she was even more attractive than I remembered. Even though the light was very dim, her curves were beckoning me.
I stepped inside, drawing a big breath. I only had one goal today: not to flirt with her. Flirting was like second nature to me. I loved women and loved to interact with them. Of course, I was completely professional with my employees—but Georgie wasn't one.
Bells chimed as I entered—they were hanging over the door.
"Good morning," Georgie said. Her voice was warm and welcoming, completely different from last night. Then she turned around and saw me, and her smile instantly disappeared. "Oh, it's you." That was the voice I’d expected. "What are you doing here?"
I stopped in my tracks, glancing around. The place looked very old but welcoming.
"In your email yesterday, you told me to stop by if I wanted to further discuss the issue at hand."
"So you did read it to the end. I wasn't sure. I thought you’d just deleted it like all the others. You made it clear last night that there was nothing to discuss." Her voice was even sharper than yesterday.
I walked up to the counter. She was arranging a stack of beads behind it.
"Listen, I’ll put all my cards on the table. I don't micromanage my team."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Her blue eyes were stunning—not like the sky but more of an aquamarine.
"It means that when one of my employees tells me there is a problem and they have a solution, I simply tell them to solve it. I don't ask how they do it. I trust that they’ll take care of it. I wasn't aware of the details of this case."
She gave me a smile, but it was sardonic. "That must be nice."
I frowned. "What?"
"Having other people handling everything for you."
"You run this alone?" I asked, glancing around the store.
"I have a small team, but I do know absolutely everything that goes on around here.”
“My assistant simply chose the option that would make sure we got everything on time.”
“But that's just it,” she huffed. “I told your team that we were already rebuilding your order. We were halfway done, actually."
That sucked. It meant she was sitting on those costs and inventory.
"I assume that my team simply considered changing suppliers to be a safer option."
Georgie laughed, looking down. Her blonde hair had been tied up yesterday, but now it was loose. It almost reached her elbows, and it was so thick and luscious that I wanted to find an excuse to get closer to see it better.
"You know, we've been working on that float for over sixty years. Ever since my grandmother signed a contract with your grandparents."
"I didn't know that," I admitted, "nor have I ever looked at the contract."
"Right. It's all just another task for you. Something that isn't even in your purview, right?"
"Exactly." Not that I liked how that sounded. I was involved and treated people right, but I was ready to agree that I dropped the ball on this and it never should’ve happened.
Keeping her head down, she told me, "But here's the thing. This is my life's work. Once word got around that you dropped us, others followed suit, and now...”
She didn't need to finish that sentence. She was in deep financial trouble. Sure, the insurance would've covered whatever was damaged by the flood, but if she'd already started working on replacing what was lost, she was in the red.
"Georgie, I have a proposition for you."
She snapped her head up, looking at me. Fuck yes, there was hope in her eyes! She was even more gorgeous than before. I wanted to get close to her, but that was not an option. This was strictly business, nothing more.
"Starting with the next Carnival season, you’re in charge of our float again."
Her face instantly exploded in a smile.
Fucking hell, that smile would light up the entire damn Quarter.
"Oh my God, that would help so, so much."
"You have my word. I'll have my assistant get back to you next week with all the details. It's far too late to do anything about this year, unfortunately."
“It's helpful to know that I can count on you for the next season." She bit her lower lip. "I'll make do with this one. Tourists are going to start arriving in droves anyway, and we're ready for business." She pointed around the shop.
I couldn't imagine anyone being able to make a living out of selling books, beads, masks, and whatever else she had hanging around here, but I didn't say that out loud. I didn’t like to flaunt my status, although sometimes I did it without realizing.
She moved her hips from one side and then the other, and then did a... was that a pirouette? Yes, it was. The change in her demeanor was incredible.
"Oh, I can't wait to tell everyone else on Monday. They've been expecting me to tell them that we’ll close our doors after this season ends."
Fuck, was the situation that dire?
"How many clients dropped you?" I asked cautiously.
Her smile fell again. "Five of the biggest ones, so we have a lot of extra float material this year. If you know anyone who needs it, you can send them our way."
I fucking would, except I didn't know anyone—again, not caring about details and all that.
"But a win is a win,” she continued. “And who knows, maybe the rest of our clients will change their minds as well."
If they were anything like me, they probably didn't even know they'd changed suppliers. But I didn't want to ruin her mood.
"Thanks, Julian. I really, really appreciate it." She bit her bottom lip again.
I looked away, exhaling sharply. I needed to get away from this woman or I was going to become very unprofessional. Georgie was too damn attractive not to flirt with.
"Are you taking part in the parades?" I asked her.
"Are you kidding? Of course."
"I have a tradition. I call it Sazerac Day. When the first parade passes my bar, I give free Sazeracs to everyone." That typically happened very early in the Carnival season. This year, the celebrations would last two months, which was when Mardi Gras was.
"That's got to be bad for business," she said. "I wouldn't have expected it from you."
I grinned. “Believe it or not, I'm not all about numbers all the time. I like to have fun. It’s next Monday, so drop by."
What am I doing?
Oh, fuck it. I never was one to overthink, and I wasn't going to start now. I wanted to see Georgie again, and yes, I was still feeling guilty as shit for basically screwing up her business.
"I won’t say no to a free Sazerac. When does everything start?" she asked.
"No fixed schedule, but text me your phone number, and I'll text you when everything's ready to go."
"That's not how it works." She put a hand on her chest, widening her eyes theatrically. "I take Carnivals very seriously. If I'm taking part in a parade, I want to be dressed accordingly."
That made me laugh. "Didn’t realize that you actually want to be part of the parade. I'm just watching."
"I like to dress up for watching too. You can find my shop number listed online.”
"Seriously?" I exclaimed.
"Yeah. I like to be available for any and all inquiries—not that I get too many. Different approach, huh?" she said with a laugh.
"Definitely.” I looked around again. "So, your grandmother opened this place?"
"Yes, over sixty years ago. She did it all on her own." Her voice was dripping with pride. "She'd just had my mom, and no one would hire her, so she set up her own business. In the beginning, she started by selling books from her own collection. As she made money, she started buying more books and then beads. One thing led to another, and she kept adding to her inventory." She was getting more animated now. I liked that she cared so much about her grandmother. She was unlike any woman I’d ever met. "Then she got into the float business. My mom practically grew up here. Then history sort of repeated itself when Mom had me. The three of us spent a lot of time here.”
"And now you run the shop without them."
The light in her eyes dimmed a bit. "My nana passed away many years ago, but I still feel her presence every day I’m here." She pointed at a worn leather armchair. "That's been here since her time. I like to sit there and read every evening. Mom retired a while ago and moved out to Baton Rouge. But that's fine, honestly. She's worked since she was a teenager. Now she's enjoying life with her chickens and her goat."
"You know, it's funny, but my grandfathers took up fishing very seriously after they retired. My grandmothers insisted that they still wanted to have an occupation, so they opened a fragrance shop."
"Really? I didn't know that. Where is it?"
"On Dumaine."
"Oh, I think I've passed it a few times. I wanted to go in, but the prices scared me away."
"If you tell my grandmothers you're the one doing our float, they'll give you a discount. They look for any excuse to give discounts to people. I don't know why they don't just lower the prices." I chuckled.
She smiled at me, and I could see her guard lower a bit. I didn't know why it was important to me, but I was determined to leave the shop on good terms.
Screw it, not just that. I had to be honest with myself. I wanted Georgie to like me.
"What did your grandmothers say when you told them you were changing suppliers?"
"I didn't tell them," I admitted. "It didn't even occur to me."
"I see."
“So... you’ll stop by next week?”
"Are you just inviting me because you still feel guilty?" Georgie asked. There was a twinkle in her eyes.
"You can bet on it."
"Good. You should feel guilty."
I threw my head back, laughing loudly. I liked her sass. "I don't think I've ever met a business partner who talks to me the way you do."
She put her hands on her hips, rolling back her shoulders. That pushed her chest forward, and I took in an eyeful. Big mistake. I wasn't going to be able to forget the sight anytime soon.
Glancing up, I noticed she was red in the cheeks. Of course I’d been fucking obvious.
"I'm glad to shake things up," she whispered.
"You know what? Because I feel so guilty, I'll give you two Sazeracs on the house."
She narrowed her eyes. Damn, she was so delicious. "Any reason you're trying to get me drunk?"
I held up my hands. "No hidden agenda here.”
"On one condition: you drink two with me."
That made me laugh again. Damn, I hadn't laughed so much on a Sunday morning in a long while—and it wasn't because I was a grump like my brother Xander. It had just been a while since I had such a good company.
"That's a promise," I said.
"Are you going to be in full costume?"
"Absolutely not."
She smirked. "Hmm. That almost feels wrong. I'd like to see you in one."
I was flirting with a dangerous idea. Later in the Carnival season, I was throwing an exclusive party in the Marriott on the day of the parade. Having Georgie there would be my highlight. But I’d just met this woman—I couldn't up and invite her to the presidential suite at the Marriott. It would sound fucking stalkerish. Inviting her to come to the bar on Sazerac Day was enough.
"What are you going to wear?" I asked her.
"That's going to be a surprise. For both of us. I haven't even decided yet. I always play it by ear." She waved her arms around. "But I have plenty of inspiration here. We'll see if you recognize me at all."
"I'd recognize you from a mile away, Georgie. Even blindfolded—”
Her mouth formed an O, and I stopped midsentence. So much for not flirting.
I cleared my throat. "Let’s just say, you’re memorable."
"Huh. I guess I should tell more of your business partners that if they ambush you at the bar and give you a hard time, you might soften and give them what they want."
Despite my resolution, I leaned in, almost to her ear, and said, "No, Georgie, trust me. No one would achieve that. It's you and only you." When I straightened up, she was completely red in the face. "I'll see you on Tuesday," I said.
"Yes," she whispered.
I couldn't fucking wait.