Page 43 of Last First Date

I looked at her, noticing the arch of her eyebrows. “Two weeks? Is that even possible?”

Her eyes met mine and I saw a flicker of annoyance. “We’re about to find out, aren’t we?”

My smile practically split my face in two. "Get them on the phone," I said.

"Does this mean you're going to New York?"

I didn't miss the hopeful tone. She wanted to get rid of me. "Yes. Of course. I have to. This is something I need to handle in person. You said they requested me personally, right?"

“Right,” she muttered, crossing her arms. She might have been hoping for my absence, but I was not about to give her an easy ride. "Have you planned many events?"

"I started as a planner," I told her. "I know you all think I got this job just because I'm Richard's grandson, but he put me through the typical training. I had to learn how to plan. I won't pretend I'm as good as some of the others, but I can do it."

"You should use one of your planners," she offered. "Just to make sure you can do this right."

"Are you implying that I can't pull this off?" I asked with a twitch of annoyance. I was often amused by her defiance, but this was a question of capability and I wouldn't let that slide.

"Did I say that?" she retorted, her cool eyes never leaving mine.

"No, you didn't. But it's quite clear you don't think I can handle it."

"Well, you're reading too much into it," she said. "I was merely suggesting that it's a big job to handle alone. Especially on such short notice. Just in case, I reached out to the New York office to find out if anyone is available to jump on this with you."

"You did what?"

"It's a big job," she said. "You need help."

"I do not."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you really want to risk failing? This is a national campaign. This is the rival to Victoria's Secret. If you fail, you may as well call Richard and let him know you sank your company."

I stared at her with total shock. I couldn't believe she was talking to me like this. How fucking obnoxious. She doubted me. I was so sick of people underestimating me.

"Fine," I growled, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. "Summon whoever it is you think can help me out. We'll see how much of a difference they make."

Waverly seemed to take this as a victory, straightening up slightly and breaking into a small smile. "Good," she said, her voice annoyingly satisfied. "I've sent the email already. He'll be ready for a video call tomorrow morning."

"He?" I frowned at her, not liking the sound of that.

"Yes, Patrick," she replied without missing a beat. Then, noticing my puzzled expression, she elaborated further. "Patrick Allen, senior event planner. He's been with the company for five years."

"I know who he is," I grumbled under my breath, not pleased with the arrangement. "I was his boss for years."

"He was happy to be a part of this project. He said he had a few other things on his calendar, but for this, he could shift a few things around."

"Fine," I conceded again, sounding more like a petulant child than a CEO of a successful company.

"I'll put it on your calendar," she said. "Anything else?"

"No, apparently, you've already handled everything."

"That's because I'm a damn good assistant," she said as she got to her feet. "And a good planner, but you wouldn't let me prove it."

She walked out of my office, closing the door behind her.

I pulled up the email she had forwarded to me. There wasn't much information. I vaguely knew the woman that was reaching out. We had met at a Christmas party. I told her who I was and what I did. She must have taken me seriously. I was thrilled to have the chance to prove to her I meant every word I said that night.

The company had helped plan some huge events, but we were still on the fringes in New York. We were big, but we weren't Colin Cowie big—yet. I was hoping this lingerie gig would put us in that same circle. The next royal wedding was ours if I pulled this off.