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“I won’t.”
After they disappeared, I could hear Charlie talking all the way down the hall.
“Stella’s going to come to dinner with us next time,” she said.
“Charlie, what did I tell you about inviting people you just met to things?”
“Doesn’t she smell good?”
There was a pause, and I thought maybe they’d gone so far that I couldn’t hear them anymore. But then Hudson grumbled, “Yes, Stella smells good.”
“And she’s pretty, too, right?”
Again there was a long pause. I moved closer to my door so I could be sure to hear the answer.
“Yes, she’s pretty, but that’s not how you decide who to invite to dinner, Charlie. We work together.”
“But last month when Mommy dropped me off early at your house on Saturday morning there was a woman there, and she was pretty and smelled good. You’d said she was someone you had business with, and she’d come back in the morning because she’d forgotten her umbrella. I asked if she could come to lunch with us, and you said another time. But you never brought her.”
Oh boy. I put my hand over my mouth. That Charlie was a whip, and I was curious how Hudson was going to talk his way out of this one. Unfortunately, instead of hearing his answer, I heard the lobby door open and close, and that was the end of the show.
I sighed and walked back to my desk—where it quickly became apparent that I could no longer concentrate. Today had been a whirlwind. Being introduced to so many people here at Rothschild Investments, a half dozen different meetings, new systems for accounting, inventory, orders, and an all-new, high-speed website interface. It was pretty overwhelming. But none of it was half as exciting as three little words Hudson had said earlier today.
“To be continued…”
CHAPTER 11
Stella
I might’ve been a bit overeager the next morning.
Olivia had told me to meet her in the office at 8AM so we could start working with her team on the Signature Scent marketing plan. Yet the sun was barely up when I arrived at the offices of Rothschild Investments. Since I was so early, I went a few doors down to a twenty-four-hour deli and figured I’d get a cup of coffee and a muffin. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten a head start on today. The line was ten deep with suit-clad men and women, every one of them with their noses buried in their phones as they waited.
When I finally arrived at the register, a kid who looked like he should be getting ready for high school instead of working took my order.
“What can I get you?” As he spoke, he took out his phone and stared down at it. I thought perhaps he had to type my order in for someone else to make it in the back.
“I’ll have a coffee, light and sweet, and one of those crumb-cake muffins, please.”
He held up one finger and texted into his phone. When he was done, he punched something into the register. “One coffee, light and sweet, and one blueberry muffin. That’ll be six seventy-five. What’s your name?”
“Well, my name is Stella, but I wanted a crumb-cake muffin, not a blueberry muffin.”
The kid frowned as if I were annoying him. He hit some more buttons on the register, but then his phone buzzed, so his attention shifted there again. I took a ten out of my wallet and extended it to him, but he ignored my waiting hand. When a solid two minutes had passed and he still hadn’t looked up from his phone, I leaned in and peered over at what he was doing.
Texting.
The kid wasn’t putting my order in on his phone, he was texting someone named Kiara.
I flicked my wrist in an attempt to catch his eye. “Umm… Here you go.”
Again, he held up a finger.
Unbelievable.
Eventually, he plucked the bill out of my hand and gave me change. Then he picked up a tall coffee cup, opened a marker, and scribbled a name on it. Simone.
My brows drew together. “Is that supposed to be mine?”
He huffed. “It’s got your name on it, doesn’t it?”
Rather than argue, I smiled. “Sure. You have a wonderful day.”
“Next!”
I assumed that was his way of asking me to step aside so he could take the next customer.
A few people were milling around at the other end of the counter, so I went to join them and proceeded to do what everyone else was doing: look down at my cell phone. Fisher had texted a few minutes ago.
Fisher: Good luck working on the marketing today. I know that’s your favorite part!
I texted back.
Stella: Thank you! I’m nervous but excited.
He then sent me a picture of a man from the newest dating site he’d joined. The guy wore only a pair of tight, gray boxers. His smile was nice, and he had good hair. But when I panned down to the rest of him, my eyes bulged. Now I knew why he’d sent it to me. Another text arrived underneath.
