Page 53 of The Wrong Groom

“Pretty much.”

“Honestly, that sounds pretty great,” Beckett admits. “You might be onto something here.”

“People like to feel like they’re part of something bigger,” I say. “This can be something for them to actively engage with. It can give people a feeling of real connection to the work being done, and encourage them to take on their own projects.”

Beckett taps his chin, looking far more serious than usual. “We could take on partnerships with a few other art influencers. Find some way to⁠—”

Ivy clears her throat, shooting me an apologetic smile. “Maybe you guys can get on each other’s calendars and hash this out sometime after we get lunch? Because I’m absolutely starving.”

Beckett shoots her a grin, clearly taking the hint. “Fair enough. Sorry. Food first. What are you in the mood for?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I haven’t decided. Something filling. There’s that burrito place a couple blocks over.”

“Oh, actually, there’s a new Mexican spot that opened up just a little ways past it. It’s supposed to be really good.” He shrugs. “Might be worth the extra walk, if you’re up for it.”

“Sure!” She nods, smiling brightly. “I’m always up for something new.”

Beckett and Ivy head off toward the elevators, their voices fading away, and I turn back down the hallway, heading for my office. I feel energized by the conversation, the flicker of something exciting beginning to take shape.

The idea of blending Alexis’s project with FlashUp feels like the kind of fresh direction I’ve been waiting for. I haven’t talked to her about this idea yet, but I can’t imagine she’ll be against it. It’ll give her exactly the reach she needs to get this thing off the ground.

As I head back into my office, my secretary looks up with a smile from her desk by my door. “There’s a call for you on line one, Mr. Thorne. Your father-in-law.”

I freeze for a moment, my hand hovering over the door handle. “What’s that about?” I haven’t spoken to Mr. Beaumont since the wedding.

“Something about Vérité’s next board meeting.”

Oh, right. He gave me a board position after our marriage. With all of the chaos in my life over the past month, I actually managed to forget about that, somehow. “Okay, great,” I say. “Thanks.”

I settle in behind my desk, steel myself, then answer the call.

“Hello, Mr. Beaumont.”

“Jonathan, please,” he says genially. “You’re family now, after all.”

“Right. Jonathan,” I correct myself. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wanted to call and let you know about a few things before the upcoming board meeting. First of all, you can make it, right? It’ll be on Thursday the tenth. You can dial in if you need to.”

“I’ll be there,” I assure him. I always prefer to attend these sorts of meetings in-person. There’s usually a lot of nuance in body language that you can’t get from a screen.

“Good, good,” Jonathan says, sounding satisfied. “We’ll be covering several key points, but I wanted to bring a few items to your attention ahead of time. I’m emailing you the agenda now. If you have a minute, I’d love to go over it together.”

“Of course.”

Jonathan takes me through the bulleted list in my inbox. Vérité is welcoming a new investor, announcing a new line, and preparing for Milan Fashion Week. None of it concerns me much, but I listen attentively anyway, nodding at the appropriate moments even though he can’t see me. There’s always a certain level of corporate theatre in these conversations, but it’s important to keep up appearances.

When he’s done, Jonathan says, “Thanks for your time, son.”

Something inside me twists at that. I’m not sure I want anyone to be calling me “son” now that my father has passed away. But I don’t comment on it. “It’s no problem. I’ll see you at the board meeting.”

“It’s an honor to be working with you,” he says. “We have a real admiration for your firm. But you know that, of course.”

Most people in business, in almost any sector, have an admiration for Thorne Enterprises. The company is a giant. I smile, quietly proud. “Well, it’ll be great to have some crossover between our two companies. And hey, I don’t know if you’ve heard much about it, but Alexis’s new project could be a great fit for some cross-promotion.”

“Alexis has a project?” I can practically hear Mr. Beaumont’s raised eyebrow. “We haven’t even had her come into the office in weeks.”

“I know,” I say, almost through gritted teeth. It’s difficult—more difficult than it should be—to hold my tongue sometimes when talking to the Beaumonts. “It’s something she’s been working on by herself.”