Page 65 of Pure Abandon

Walking back toward the office, I open the card that came with the package. I didn’t want to open it in front of Trish.

The note is short and sweet.

No signature.

I smile inwardly and leave the box on my desk. It’s almost eleven, so I gather my notebook and files and head to the conference room.

Erik, Malory, Gretchen, Harvey, and Heather are in the meeting with me. Erik, Malory, and I take seats next to each other, facing the wall of vintage advertisements, while Harvey, Gretchen, and Heather sit across from us, facing the glass wall that leads to the hallway.

As I take my seat, I look up and see the vintage movie poster Asher purchased hanging proudly. Kathryn Grayson looks ethereal under the handsome Lawford. I smile to myself and catch Malory’s eye, shaking her head in disapproval.

Everyone seems to have their portion of production underway. Erik has been working with his crew to secure equipment and make sure they can capture every aspect for the Central Park concert for viewers at home. He is also planning on setting up a crew at the Lincoln Center gala. It won’t air the same night, but they may be able to sell it as a special down the road. He’s giving one of the tech guys the opportunity to direct. It sounds like a great idea.

Malory has sold the rights to the broadcast and is packing the gala with an elite crowd who are paying thousands of dollars to attend.

Shit! Pressure’s on. This thing better be perfect.

Heather, as evil as she is, really has her shit together. Her concert is planned out, vendor contracts signed, timeline and logistics clear. Her speeches and dialogue throughout the program are all in review stages. She’s hired a well-known name in radio to be the announcer and is having an even more well-known late-night personality host the entire event. That’s really smart.

Asher approved another television personality to host my event as well, but he’s not nearly as funny and his people are a disaster to work with. I look down at my production notes. I have many loose ends. If I had Trish working with me, I’d be as far ahead as Heather is.

Harvey is going over the scripts for the Central Park concert when Gretchen’s eyes shift to the glass wall behind me. Heather notices Gretchen’s distraction and follows her gaze.

“Who is that?” Heather’s doe eyes widen. She nearly foams at the mouth.

Malory and I turn around to see a man with dark wavy hair, an athletic build, and navy-blue eyes behind the glass, looking for, what I presume is, my office.

Why is Gabriel here?

I turn to Erik. “If you’ll excuse me. That’s my husband.”

Erik nods in permission as Heather chimes, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Malory scowls back at Heather. “What bothers you more? The fact that she gets to leave the meeting, or McDreamy over there is here to see her and not you?” Malory’s mad, though I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s directed solely toward Heather. Is it unprofessional to be leaving the meeting? Should I stay? What if he’s here to tell me something terrible happened?

I exit the conference room as fast as possible.

Gabriel sees me through the glass panel and relaxes. Clearly, he was lost.

“What are you doing here?” I guide him down the hall to my office.

“I was in the area and thought I’d stop by and see this fancy office of yours. Besides, I know you love surprises.” He looks handsome in his business suit, his blue tie bringing out his eyes. No wonder Heather nearly convulsed.

“Thank God, I thought something terrible happened.” I take his hand and escort him into the office. “Well, this is it.” I hold out my hands, gesturing at the stark space of white walls, modern furniture, and paper… everywhere.

“You really do have a view of the Empire State Building.”

The view even surprises me on a daily basis.

“Yes, almost all of the offices on this floor have this view.”

“This is awesome, baby. You really made it.” He sits on my desk, taking in the room. “If I didn’t know better, I’d ask who you slept with to get this kind of view.” He’s kidding, yet his eyebrows are raised at me, questioningly.

“Gabe!” I admonish, crossing my arms, and cock my head to the side.

“I’m kidding,” Gabriel says with a sarcastic tone.

“You better be.”