7. Aiden
AIDEN
As it turned out, neither Vincent nor I were interested in drinking the other under the table, which meant I returned to work on Monday without a throbbing headache.
Always a bonus.
I climbed into the elevator, checking the calendar on my phone as I rode it up. My stomach sank immediately. My first meeting of the day was with Cora. I’d forgotten I’d penciled that in last week. Was it too early for a drink?
Actually, if I tried that, she’d probably just tell me I’d used the wrong ingredients.
I exited the elevator and nodded to Connie, my personal receptionist. She was a no-nonsense woman almost twice my age.
In a lot of ways, she reminded me of Nana Dee—which was probably why I’d hired her.
I’d never had a single reason to regret it.
I walked into my office and crossed the room to drop my bag. I’d no sooner put it down when a knock sounded.
“Come in!”
“Cora’s here,” Connie said, poking her head inside. “Want me to send her in or have her wait?”
“Send her in,” I said. Better to just rip off the bandage. Should be one hell of a Monday morning.
Connie disappeared, and a moment later, Cora stood there.
“Morning,” I said.
“Good morning,” she replied, glancing around the office for a beat. Her eyes widened dramatically, and she surged across the room to the large walnut bookshelf in the corner. “Is this a Henri IV Dudognon Heritage Cognac?” She picked it up off the shelf.
“Be careful with that!” I darted after her, carefully removing the bottle from her hands and putting it back on the safety of the shelf.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” she said. “I didn’t mean to disturb your royal collection.”
“That’s one of the most expensive liquors in the world!” I said. The bottle could go for up to two million dollars. “It’s aged for—”
“One hundred years,” she cut in. “I know. It comes in a decanter made of 24-karat gold and sterling platinum, encrusted with diamonds. At least, that’s what I always read. Guess now I know it’s true.”
I was impressed with her knowledge. Then again, maybe I should stop being surprised considering her chosen profession. “Is that all?” I asked. Her eyes bored into me. “I know you want to say something else.”
“It’s a little pretentious to leave it out like that, don’t you think?” She gave me a wry smile. “What is it you’re trying to say?”
“I think it says I have refined taste.” I smirked. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me otherwise.”
“I think it says you’re the tacky kind of rich that enjoys flaunting your extreme wealth.”
I huffed, biting down on a laugh. Cora had never had a problem speaking her mind. It was one of the things I’d always appreciated about her while we were dating. “Admit it. You’re a little dazzled.”
“I was actually just wondering if you mounted the bottle to the ceiling, would it act like a disco ball with all those diamonds?”
“Is that more or less tacky?”
She looked around the office again. “A disco ball could be exactly what this place needs to liven it up.”
“Are you calling me boring?”
“I’m saying your taste in furnishings is…understated.”
“Should I assume that’s a euphemism for ugly?”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “I didn’t say that.”
My office was on the top floor of the building, offering a sweeping view of Manhattan.
A large, custom-made walnut desk dominated the room, accompanied by a plush, ergonomically designed leather chair.
Some interior designer I’d paid way too much money had adorned the walls with artwork I’d also probably paid way too much money for.
My favorite part was the high-resolution monitors and smart office system that had been integrated into my state-of-the-art audio-visual setup.
I could control everything from the lights to the window shades to my Spotify playlists with a voice command.
“Well, as much as I appreciate your comments on the contents of my office, I did actually schedule this meeting for a reason.”
“I figured,” she said. “Though my interior design feedback comes highly rated.”
I gestured to the twin sofas that had been added to the room for more casual meetings. “I just wanted to check in and make sure you had everything you needed.”
“The team’s been great so far,” she said. “And the lab really is impressive.” She sounded like it hurt a little to admit it.
I smirked as she sat on one of the sofas.
I took the other. Cora crossed her legs, and my eyes were immediately drawn to a shapely calf muscle.
For a beat, I envisioned running my hands along the smooth skin there, over her knee, and up her thigh—God it was hot in here!
And dammit, why was I letting my thoughts drift to places they definitely shouldn’t go? I shrugged out of my suit jacket.
Cora reached forward suddenly, snatching a photo from the coffee table between us. “You framed it!” she exclaimed.
I opened my mouth to respond, unsure of what she was talking about, until she flipped the frame around. It was the GQ article where I’d been dubbed the Cocktail King. Heat pooled in my chest, and I sat a little straighter. “Yes, I framed it.”
“I can’t believe this. Actually, no I can. I was thinking this decor wasn’t really you,” she gestured to the art on the wall, “but this…You totally used to keep all the little writeups the school paper did on the football team in high school!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You totally did! You always liked to see your name in print,” she teased. “You even had that little scrapbook.”
I couldn’t believe she remembered that. I cleared my throat. “Pretty sure you were the one who made the scrapbook.”
“Because I was sick of finding bits of paper all over your room.”
I could still remember the weekend she’d presented it to me, smiling proudly.
She’d found little football stickers to decorate all the pages.
I’d been ridiculously touched by the amount of thought she put into the gift.
But anyway, that was only high school football.
This was totally different. “GQ was a big moment.”
“Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”
“Can you stop calling me that?”
“No can do. I think it’s stuck now.” She whipped her head back and forth.
“What are you looking for?”
“The crown you must have dropped on your way back from your castle.”
I shook my head, resigned to the fact that she was never going to let me forget this Cocktail King thing. Truth was, I didn’t hate the nickname. Not when she said it. Not that I would ever admit that out loud. “I think we’re getting off topic.”
She smirked. “Are we?”
“Yes. What I wanted to talk to you about today was my vision for Elixir Free.”
“Alcohol-free cocktails,” she said. “Unique flavor profiles. I think I’ve got it.”
“That’s the end product, but alongside that, there are specific goals I’m hoping to achieve.”
She straightened up, all hints of her earlier teasing gone. This Cora was all business. “Which are?”
“I know mocktails often lack the depth and complexity of flavor of alcoholic cocktails, which is why we’re pushing the unique flavor angle, but my aim is to put something delicious in the hands of our customers. Something that’s fun to drink—that makes you feel like you’re part of the party.”
Cora nodded, pulling out the notebook she brought. She pulled the cap off a pen with her teeth. “It’s true alcohol does meld flavors in a way that is difficult to replicate with nonalcoholic ingredients alone,” she said. “But I’m confident in my abilities.”
“Don’t hesitate to go bold with the ingredients. Whatever you need, I’ll make sure our teams source it. Exotic fruits. Herbs. Spices. Anything. What I really like about some of our competitors is that their mocktails use fresh, natural ingredients. They’re packed with vitamins.”
“And antioxidants,” Cora added, scribbling something down. “And there’s definite hydration benefits.”
“Exactly. I want to be able to say the same about our line. I know a lot of the mocktails out there are made with syrups and other sweeteners—”
“I’d actually like to avoid a high sugar content,” she cut in.
“And the use of artificial flavors and preservatives. I think that undermines what the brand is trying to achieve. For Elixir Free, I think it’s all about the thoughtful selection of ingredients and mindful preparation.
A high-quality, premium product that tastes good and makes you feel good.
We’ll use fresh, whole fruits and vegetables wherever we can. ”
“You could also use natural sweeteners like honey or agave syrup.”
“And if we opt for soda water or a coconut water base, we’ll keep them hydrating and low-calorie.”
“What do you think about using teas?” I asked. “There’s been a big shift in the market toward them recently.”
“I think it’s a good idea. We could potentially incorporate green tea or hibiscus tea for added antioxidants and flavoring.”
We were surprisingly on the same page about the line, which was a relief.
I knew from her reputation as the Masked Mixer that she knew her stuff, but I’d been a little worried we wouldn’t be able to see eye to eye.
But Cora had some great ideas, and she genuinely seemed to appreciate my insights.
I’d maybe even go as far as to say we were getting along, which was…
Well, we hadn’t gotten along this well since high school.
Definitely not since before the breakup.
Cora gasped suddenly and grabbed another frame off the table beside her. “Oh, look at you! Posing with your poorly designed tenth anniversary bottle.”
I huffed. “I don’t get your hang up about the bottle. Why don’t you like the way it looks?”
“It’s not what it looks like,” she said, putting the photo back down. “It’s all about how the bottle feels in your hand.”
I swallowed hard, my mind suddenly filled with a dangerously distracting image of her handling certain parts of me in the past.