8. Trent #2
Bringing Dee into this conversation wasn’t going to sway me.
I ran the company now. “First of all, we sell furniture, not relationships. Second of all, Natasha wouldn’t enjoy this kind of campaign.
She doesn’t like the public attention.” Even when the guys had asked her questions at dinner, she’d seemed anxious, changing the subject to her friend Stacy the moment she could.
If that was enough to make her uncomfortable, I didn’t want to put her through this kind of nonsense.
Being grilled by marketing was a nightmare.
Hell, it was the last thing I wanted to do, especially considering this was all a giant sham.
“The promo gets easier with practice,” Sheila was quick to point out. She leaned around me to look at Natasha. “I promise.”
I shook my head. “Don’t you remember how things ended with the last couple that ran Saunders?”
The room grew quiet, uneasy. Sure, it was great to throw Nana Dee and Papa Davis up on the screen as an example of the good old days, and even my parents had some good years at first—for the company, anyway—but by the time their marriage came to an end, they’d almost managed to drive Saunders Furniture into the ground. I’d had to step in and take over.
“Point taken,” Sheila said, drumming her fingers against the table. I could tell I’d finally gotten through to her.
“Good,” I snapped, glancing around at the team. “Are we done here?”
“We’re done,” Sheila said.
Without a word, the team split off, scurrying back to their desks. I caught Natasha by the elbow as she made for the door, guiding her to the side of the room. “I need a word.”
“Do I have a choice?” she asked, glancing down where my hand wrapped around her arm.
I released her. She immediately crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as she looked at me.
The stare was icy. What the hell was her problem?
Was she really that upset I’d shot down the idea of the marketing campaign?
I’d have thought she’d be thrilled to be let off the hook.
Whatever—if she wanted to be in a snit about it, that was her business.
My business was to let her know my plans.
“I have somewhere to take you after work.”
Natasha bristled. “Oh, gee, sounds fun and not weirdly cryptic at all.”
I huffed. “This is work related.”
“In what way?”
“That’s what you’ll find out when we get there.”
“Sounds like you just like ordering me around.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” I said simply, daring her to push back. I didn’t mind her speaking her mind. After all, it was part of why I’d hired her. But at the end of the day, I was still the boss. She could accept that…or she could leave.
“Fine.”
“Should I be concerned about the fact you just drove me through an overgrown field, and we’ve now stopped next to an abandoned church?” Natasha asked. “Do you plan to kill me and bury my body here?”
“Too obvious,” I said.
She shot me a glare from the passenger seat. I’d had many passengers in my Lambo, but I had to admit Natasha looked damn good over there, even with the glare. It was like her curves had been made to ride in something so sleek and smooth and luxurious—
Christ! I needed to stop thinking right now.
“This is definitely how crime documentaries start,” she muttered.
“The documentary comes after the crime,” I pointed out. “So you don’t have to worry.”
“Whatever.” She huffed. “What are we doing here, Trent?”
I arched my brow. “Come inside and I’ll show you.”
I didn’t wait for her response, opening the door and climbing out. “Come on,” I called back into the car, “before we lose the sun.”
Natasha finally exited the car as well, following me up the chipped concrete steps overgrown with weeds and wildflowers.
I pushed on the door, which did creak like something out of a horror movie, the sound echoing through the abandoned church. I half expected it to startle birds out of the rafters.
“Wow,” Natasha said as she walked in behind me, her tone making it clear she meant anything but wow. She ran her finger along one of the pews, flicking the dust from her fingertips. “This place is…well, it’s definitely a church.”
“I know it looks rough, but to be fair, it hasn’t been used in over a year.
” Even still, the space had some beautiful elements.
I glanced up to where the sunlight spilled in through the stained glass windows, shooting rainbow colors along the wall.
Most of the windows were still in good shape.
There were also numerous hand-carved details on the wooden pews and decorative wall displays all made from quality materials.
“Okay,” Natasha said. “You got me all the way down here. Now are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”
“The building was going to be torn down,” I said.
“So I bought it.” She puckered her lips, leaning one of those curvy hips against a pew.
Judging by her face, she clearly didn’t understand.
“I didn’t buy the land,” I explained, “just the building, to harvest the materials before someone could put a wrecking ball through it. I thought you could use these materials to make Dee’s furniture.
And whatever’s left is yours to use as you please for your own projects. ”
Natasha blinked at me, then she turned on the spot, taking the space in again with new eyes.
“I know we never actually talked about what your payment would be the day you came to Dee’s house.” We’d gotten distracted by the whole fake-girlfriend situation and then by me offering her a job with the company. “But I hope you’ll consider the materials a fair payment.”
“It’s more than a fair payment,” she breathed, a little stunned. “Holy shit. It’s so much more than fair. Are you…Are you sure? The materials are worth a fortune. Way more than I would have charged you.”
I snorted. Her concern over the price of the materials was cute.
“Oh right,” she said, giving me a tiny smile. “I forgot I’m talking to the Coffeezilla billionaire.”
“Anyway,” I grumbled, choosing to ignore the inane nickname.
“I’ve hired a team to deconstruct the church and warehouse all the materials.
Once that’s finished, you can go through the warehouse and pick whatever you want.
I just wanted you to see it all whole and together first in case that helps with your creative process. ”
“I don’t know what to say,” Natasha said, holding her hand up to her face. She was staring at the stained glass, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.
“You don’t need to say anything.”
“I do.” But instead of elaborating, she threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck. My hands automatically found her waist, then shifted around to the small of her back as she squeezed me in a hug.
“Thank you,” she whispered, taking a small step back while staying in the circle of my arms. “These materials…” Her voice was thick. “I can’t wait to get started.”
I glanced down at her, at her lips, at the way they parted ever so slightly, and for a moment it felt like Natasha might just press up on her toes and kiss me. To my shock, I wanted her to close the distance. Or should I just do it myself?
Then she released me, stepping back. “You’re buzzing.”
“I—oh…” My phone rang in my pocket. There had never been a worse moment for a call, but I fished it out in case it was Nana Dee.
The shadows made it hard to see the screen, so I tilted it more toward Natasha to get some better light, finally able to see that it was only my mom.
I frowned down at it as I swept the call away, sending her straight to voicemail, as usual.
“You could have gotten that.”
“It’s fine.” When I looked up at Natasha again, the warmth from moments ago had disappeared, leaving a steely ice queen in its place. What the hell had happened?
“I should get going,” she said abruptly. “It’ll be a long trip back to Queens for me.” She headed for the door, shoving it open. “You think you can drop me at the LIRR station?”
I stayed frozen for a second, still stuck on how the moment had gone sour so quickly. But I pulled it together, following after her and catching up with her on the steps. “No.”
She turned on her heel. “No?”
I almost collided with her. “I meant that you don’t have to take the train. I can just drive you home. I’m going that way anyway.”
“I don’t need you to drive me,” she said, turning away from me again. “I’m perfectly capable of taking the train.”
“I never said you weren’t. But I insist.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
We got back in the car, and I pulled away from the church, grimacing at the tension that filled the car.
I cleared my throat, determined to get the conversation back on track.
Maybe she’d just gotten embarrassed over the hug and wanted some distance between us.
That would be the smart choice anyway. Faking a relationship for Nana Dee was one thing, but we didn’t need to start confusing ourselves too.
This was a business relationship and nothing more.
But there was no reason why we couldn’t get along—in a businesslike way, of course.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I said, hoping a show of manners might smooth things out. “I know you’ll be late getting home, but I hope it sparked some ideas for Dee’s pieces. Or even other pieces.”
Natasha sighed, looking over at me. “I’m actually wondering how much stained glass is too much to put in a piece.”
I laughed. “Dee would say such a thing doesn’t exist.”
Natasha’s lips fought a smile. It was reluctant, but it was progress. And as I drove back toward Queens, the iciness melted, but she made no move to touch me again. I told myself that was for the best—and I tried to believe it.