Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Bella
“How do I look?” Bella smiled, doing a little turn when I walked into the bedroom.
“Beautiful as always.” I walked over and kissed her lips. “Nick is waiting for us downstairs.”
“I’m ready. I just need to grab my purse,” I said.
I climbed into the back seat, and Simon slid next to me.
“I’m really nervous,” I said, glancing at him.
“Why?” His brows furrowed.
“I think you know why. People are going to talk, Simon.”
“So let them. Who cares.”
“Easy for you to say. Nobody is going to think you got your job because you’re sleeping with me.”
“You didn’t get this job because you’re sleeping with me, Bella. You stood in front of people who have been doing this for years and made them rethink how we sell our properties. You saw something they didn’t.”
“All I did was look at some videos,” I said.
“You looked at a failing campaign and understood why it was failing.”
“And then your father suggested you hire me.” I stared at him.
“My father suggested I stop being a stubborn asshole and consider something I was already considering.”
“You were?”
“Yes,” he said.
“You never told me that, Simon.”
“I am now.”
“You really were thinking about hiring me before your father said anything?”
“I was thinking about how much easier my life would be if you weren’t working for me.”
“Wow. That’s reassuring.” My brows furrowed.
“Let me finish. I didn’t want to mix this thing with us with work.
I’d spent my entire career keeping my personal life out of the company.
Then you walked into that conference room and made it impossible for me to ignore what you could bring to Montclair.
You’re not reporting to me. You have a defined role and responsibilities. ”
“And if I suck?”
“You won’t.” He smiled.
The moment we stepped out of the elevator, all eyes were on us. Simon introduced me to some of the staff. So far, everyone was welcoming.
“There you two are.” William smiled. He hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Good to see you, Bella.”
“You too, William.”
“Follow me. I’ll show you to our new division and your office.”
The further we went down the hallway, I noticed a half-wall that wasn’t there before, with the words MONTCLAIR LIVING in gold letters.
“Dad, where did this come from?” Simon asked.
“I had the crew here all day yesterday setting everything up.
There were five cubicles set up in the space, with an all-glass office containing an elegant desk, a leather chair, a computer, a couch, a coffee table, two chairs across from the desk, and a console table lining one wall, while the other was a huge projection screen.
“This is your office, Bella.”
“Wow.” I grinned.
“I think your view is better than mine,” Simon said.
“Patrick, get in here,” William shouted.
A young man walked in holding a cup of coffee.
“Bella, meet Patrick. He’s your assistant. Patrick, meet Bella, your boss.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Bella.” He extended his hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, Patrick.” I lightly shook his hand.
“You will have a staff of five, including Patrick. I’m also giving Montclair Living a three-hundred-thousand-dollar budget to start with.”
“Marketing isn’t going to be happy about that,” Simon smirked.
“Then they can seek employment elsewhere,” William said. “All the files for Montclair Tribeca are on your desk. Now, get those units sold.” He winked.
Simon glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting in five minutes. I’ll see you later. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” I smiled.
Two Weeks Later
Simon
I was in the middle of looking over a contract when my office door opened without so much as a knock. There were only two people at the company who had the right to do that. My father and Bella. She was out of the office shooting footage, so I knew it wasn’t her.
“Good morning, Dad,” I said, my concentration still on the contract.
He set a stack of papers on my desk. I looked at them, and then at him.
“What’s this?” I set my pen down.
“Tribeca,” he said.
I picked up the papers and leaned back in my chair. “What about it?”
“Look at the numbers, son.”
“I’ve seen the numbers, Dad. I don’t need to be reminded. We’re taking care of it.”
“You haven’t seen these numbers.” He smiled, and I frowned.
I studied the first page with the latest sales activity. I scanned the column and narrowed my eyes.
“What the fuck?” I looked at my father, and he smiled.
I flipped to the next page. Twenty fucking units sold in two weeks.
“Is this right?” I asked.
“No, Simon. I came in here just to throw fake sales numbers on your desk,” he said.
I ignored him and studied the report. Twenty units sold since Bella’s campaign went live. There were no inquiries, no scheduled tours, no reservations. Only closed sales.
“Twenty.” I grinned, staring at my father.
“Twenty,” he repeated. “Remember how you had fifty units sitting there collecting dust only two weeks ago?”
“I remember,” I sighed.
“Look at the engagement numbers. That’s higher than we’ve ever had,” he said. “You know what my favorite part is?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I said.
“You didn’t want to hire her.” He pointed at me.
“I never said I didn’t want to hire her. I had legitimate concerns.”
“You had one concern, son.”
“I had several.”
“I told you.” He pointed at me again.
“Don’t start,” I sighed.
“I told you she was exactly what this company needed.”
“You also told me to tear up my rules.”
“And?” His brow raised.
“Apparently, you were right.”
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” He leaned closer to my desk.
“Don’t.” I put my hand up, and he chuckled.
“We’re going to dinner to celebrate tomorrow evening. I’ll have my secretary make the reservation, and I’ll text you the details.” He stood from his chair.
“Sounds good, Dad.”
The numbers shouldn’t have surprised me as much as they did.
I’d watched Bella work her ass off for two weeks straight.
The woman didn’t half-ass anything. I would walk to her office well after everyone else had left and find her in front of the monitor with her shoes kicked off under the desk, hair twisted up when it was down earlier in the day, and half a sandwich sitting untouched next to her.
I’d tell her it was time to go home, and she’d put her finger up and ask me to give her another twenty minutes.
But the thing that really got me was the budget she had been given.
Instead of hiring people to appear in the videos, she used herself, friends, me, Patrick, my father, Mary, and her team.
People who cost absolutely nothing. She made videos interviewing the sales team, the architects, and the contractors.
The only thing she was using the budget for was advertising expenses.
Except, her videos didn’t feel advertised.
When you watched them, you felt as if you were watching friends having a good time.
She did the one thing my marketing team couldn’t.
She stopped selling square footage and sold them every day of the week.
She sold them Tuesday mornings. She sold them Friday nights.
She sold them what living in Tribeca is like. And I was sure as hell proud of her.
My computer dinged, alerting me that a new video was posted.
I clicked on it and watched. Bella had just uploaded ten minutes ago.
The video opened inside one of the penthouses just after sunrise.
Bella walked barefoot into the kitchen wearing jeans and an oversized white shirt.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and took it over to the window as the city sprawled before her.
Text appeared across the screen: “What if this were your morning?” Then it cut to the terrace.
That was it. A twenty-two-second video that even made me want to buy at Montclair Tribeca.
I glanced at the likes that would’ve made our old digital team lose their minds.