Chapter 17
THE AGENT
CHLOE
“Thank you for the ride, Marie.” I stifled a yawn as she pulled in front of the condos.
“You’re more than welcome.” She handed me a bag of donut holes. “You look half-dead today. No offense.”
“None taken.” I stretched my arms. “Things could be a lot worse.”
“How?”
“I could be working a job I hate that pays me little,” I said. “At least I’m getting paid a lot, right?”
She didn’t laugh.
And I didn’t have the energy to fake one.
“Look,” she said, leaning over and smoothing my hair, “just because Mr. Hudson was telling the truth about this job offer doesn’t give him the right to run your life. I’m very wary of him, by the way.”
“I’m wary of him, too.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “But I only need to last for one month to make this all worth it, okay? No judgment on how tired or terrible I look until then?”
“Deal.” She smiled. “But the Chloe Sterling I know would put this man—billionaire or not—in his place sooner rather than later so she doesn’t shortchange herself or burn out.”
If only it were that easy.
“I just wish they sold reputation cleanser in the store, you know?” I said. “That would be the easiest way for me to fix how people see him.”
“Or, Mr. Hudson could start addressing his lower-end properties instead of simply collecting things, and maybe then people would like him. It’d be a decent start anyway…”
“Wait, what did you just say?” I sat up. “Repeat that for me.”
“Oh come on, Chloe.” She shrugged. “You’re the one who said it months ago. Our place is a shithole, as are most of the other ones he owns. If he started caring about those and not just the luxury ones—”
“Oh my god, I love you.” I cut her off with a hug and felt a swell of new energy. “I love you so much!”
She shot me a confused look as I jumped out of the car.
I rushed inside the building, anxious to write down some notes, but Mr. Hudson was standing in the hallway.
Looking impeccably sexy in a new charcoal gray suit and soft gold tie, he glanced at his diamond watch. Then he looked back up at me.
“It’s four minutes after six o’clock, Miss Sterling,” he said. “Do I need to buy you a watch that works?”
“I was outside at 5:59,” I said.
“I saw,” he said. “You were sitting in that car without a single sense of urgency to come in here for your job.”
“I needed to gather up my energy since I literally haven’t slept since I started.”
“I’m not responsible for scheduling your nap time.”
“If you keep me going at this pace, I’ll never have a gap in my schedule for any rest. That’s my entire issue.”
“The only issue is you being four minutes late on purpose, Miss Sterling.”
“Okay, look.” I glared at him. “Just because you paid me—”
“Exactly what you asked for and then some,” he interrupted with a smirk.
“Yes, that.” I held my ground. “That doesn’t mean I’m one of your personal toys that you can wind up whenever you feel like it. I need time to decompress. Time to have a life outside of doing work for you, and you need to know that now instead of later. Understood?”
He blinked.
“I require at least six hours of sleep a night and ten free hours a week—a week—where I can do something fun without your presence hanging over my head.”
“Is that all, Miss Sterling?”
“Yes.” I let out a breath, relieved.
“You can do whatever the hell you want with your time after your month with me is up and you’ve completed what I asked you to do,” he said. “I’m not running a vacation camp, Miss Sterling.”
“So, everything I just said about rest went over your head?”
“No, I heard you clearly.” He walked over to the elevator. “I’m just not agreeing to any of it, especially since I can’t remember the last time I slept for more than four hours a night.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“Anyway,” he said, “the reason I pushed up this meeting is because I think it might help you come up with some ideas.”
“I already have some, sir.”
“Looking forward to hearing them after this, then.”
The doors glided open, and I moved toward the car, hating that my body couldn’t shut off its reactions around this man.
My nipples were hardening under my dress, and my heart was tripping over itself—as if it hadn’t heard how much of a jerk he was.
A long oval table sat waiting in the hallway when we arrived on the floor. Mr. Hudson pulled out a chair for me before sitting at its head.
“Okay, I’m listening,” he said. “Show me exactly how I can get in the public’s good graces to buy The Holden.”
“Very well, sir!” A man in a light blue suit and round glasses stood up and turned on a projector. “I’m Mr. Devry, and I’m pleased to present to you—The Hudson at The Holden…”
The Holden’s stunning beige exterior came into view, and then the camera panned to a mockup of luxury stores flanked at its sides, a brand-new park at its rear, and an enclosed club on its rooftop.
It looked eerily similar to The Bergman and six of Mr. Hudson’s other luxury properties.
Then again, with its four indoor swimming pools and an exclusive spa that spanned two levels, it was actually worse.
“The cheapest units can still start at Mr. Hudson’s usual five-million-dollar price point, but they’ll top out at forty million,” he said.
“Residents will be invited to a rooftop charity ball every month to raise money for the surrounding area, and occasionally, we’ll allow locals to use the park for one full hour on Saturdays.”
You people are so out of touch… My stomach churned.
“We’re certain that presenting this plan to the city will not only earn admiration and trust from the community, but Mr. Hudson will look more generous and giving than ever.”
“Or he can just fix up some of his lower-end properties and hold off on flaunting his money for a while,” I muttered.
“What was that, Miss?” Mr. Devry shot a dagger in my direction.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I thought so…”
“Like I was saying.” He pointed at the screen. “This will be a good thing for everyone involved. The residents will receive high-end shopping and digital golfing down the line, but let’s first discuss the one-of-a-kind rooftop amenities!”
I plucked at the lint on my sleeve.
Every word that left this man’s mouth sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
“Not only will the new version of this building enhance the neighborhood, when the sky lights up with the new red and gold emblem…” Mr. Devry paused to show the letters “D.H.” casting an ugly shadow across the entire neighborhood.
“Every resident will be instantly inspired to work hard enough to be as rich and successful as Mr. Hudson someday.”
“You’re so disgustingly out of touch that it hurts,” I said, unable to take it anymore. “I can guarantee you that most of these people aren’t dreaming about becoming billionaires.”
“Funny.” He picked up his folder. “Everyone wants to be a billionaire, Miss—What exactly is your name?”
“Sterling.” I kept my voice firm. “But no, they don’t. They dream of coming home to a place they love and a space that doesn’t reek of mold and mildew.”
“Mr. Hudson’s properties don’t have that problem.”
“Only the luxury ones,” I said. “Which regular people get glimpses of through the windows, all while hoping they won’t have to kill a roach when they walk into their bathrooms.”
Silence.
Mr. Devry dropped his folder to the ground, and every page echoed through the hallway as it hit the floor.
Mr. Hudson looked up at me from the end of the table, and I noticed a large vein swelling in his neck.
The room was as silent as a cemetery.
“You want to improve your chances of people saying yes to this monstrosity, Mr. Hudson?” I stood up from the table.
“Forget PR and trying to offer bullshit perks that only a few people can afford… Fix what you already have first, and then they might actually start thinking you give a damn about something other than money, even though everyone in this room knows you don’t… ”
With his eyes locked on me, I pushed back my chair and slipped into the elevator.
Welp, I’m definitely fired.