Page 317 of Manhattan Bossholes

“I don’t know. It seems more likely than the idea that this email could be legit. It’s from a very big deal client who would have absolutely no reason to know or be interested in me.”

“Well, you’re a big deal too.”

I snorted. “Thanks, but not compared to the Veronica Chase. If this really is her.”

“Why does that name sound familiar? Have I seen her on TV?”

“Probably. She had that home design series on Netflix.” Veronica designed spaces for some massively huge names in New York City. Anyone who was anyone in the city had Chase Designs furnishing their rooms.

“Well, what does she want? You haven’t said yet.”

I scanned the email. “Looks like she’s interested in commissioning some custom pieces after learning about me from…” The breath whooshed from my lungs. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What?”

“It’s Trent!” I practically yelled into the phone. “Freaking Trent! That’s how she knows who I am.” I stopped reading, my fingers curling into fists. I resisted the urge to slam my laptop lid down. Rage boiled inside me.

“You’re sure?” Stacy asked.

“Yep. She mentioned him by name in the email. God, what is this? Another ploy to try and buy me?” Because that’s exactly how it felt. I’d rejected his big fancy workshop filled with the prettiest wood I’d ever laid my eyes on, and now he was using someone else to try and weasel his way back in my favor. Someone who would be a really valuable contact for me to have! Well, it wasn’t going to work. The last thing I wanted was to let him think my forgiveness could be bought. “I’ve gotta go,” I said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know…call him and read him the riot act, probably.”

“Good. Give him hell!”

I hung up with Stacy and immediately called Trent. This guy couldn’t keep screwing with me. He’d wanted me out of his life, so now he needed to stay out of mine.

A familiar ring tone sounded. It was his ringtone. It sounded like it was coming from right outside the…No freaking way! I sprinted across the room, throwing open the door, letting in a wash of frigid air as I gaped at Trent. He stood there with his stupidly perfect face, cheeks red from the wind, his gloved hand raised like he was about to knock. I hung up my phone.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

He blinked down at me. “Getting screamed at, apparently. Is knocking on your door a crime now?”

I stomped back across the workshop away from the cold. Trent followed. I heard the door close. “Veronica Chase?” I spat out the moment he started to say something.

“She reached out to you?”

I scoffed, clinging to my fury to keep from bursting into frustrated tears. “Do you have any idea what having a client like her would mean for me?”

“I have some idea, yes.” He shed his jacket and his gloves. I tried not to ogle the way his sweater clung to his chest. Fight it, I told myself. Don’t you dare swoon! “Have you emailed her back?”

I dragged my eyes back to his face. “No, I haven’t emailed her back!” I snapped. “Why are you doing this to me? Are you purposely trying to ruin my chances of making a name for myself in the industry?”

“No,” he said. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“I don’t understand you. Why would you give her my name? I don’t need you to do that for me. I don’t want you to do that.”

“That’s exactly why!” he said, surging across the room toward me.

I took a stumbling step back. I couldn’t be close to him and think straight.

“Because you don’t need me,” he continued. “And I wanted to prove that to you.”

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Natasha, I would love for you to come back and work for Saunders,” he said. “More than anything.”