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Chapter One
A well-made cup of coffee meant the difference between a good day and one better meant for the trash. Today, Sabrina was ready to throw it all in the bin and wash her hands of it. Mondays. Ugh. If the devil had a designated day to conduct his business, it was today.
First, her blow dryer had burned out—in her hand—leaving her with damp hair unable to be curled. She’d had to leave the house that way and hope for the best. Then some jack-off had taken her cab, the one she’d called ahead of time to come pick her up so she wouldn’t be late for a meeting she’d scheduled a month in advance with a client who was as rigid as a steel pole. When she’d finally arrived at the office nearly twenty minutes late, she’d overlooked a heating grate in the sidewalk and snapped the heel off her lucky—and extremely expensive—Garavani pump. And to top it all off, her assistant, the one Daddy had promised was at the top of her game and couldn’t be replaced, had scorched the damn coffee.
“Jesus H. Christ, Shawna,” Sabrina snapped, thrusting the mug at her, “can’t you do anything right?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Colloway. I don’t know what happened.”
“Well, figure it out. Later though. Right now, I need you to make a run to the nearest coffee shop and grab me a double expresso with a shot of bourbon.”
“Uhhh…” Shawna had that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look of fear in her eyes.
Sabrina waved her off. “Shit, Shawna, have a sense of humor for once. Scratch the bourbon and get me one of those double chocolate brownies instead.”
“Do you still want the expresso?”
“That would be a yes.” How did her father call this woman irreplaceable? It must be that whole innocent vibe she had going on that endeared her to him. He’d always liked those mousey types. Thank God she hadn’t turned out that way herself. Otherwise, the family business would still be stagnant.
“And please hurry,” she called after her retreating form. “I can’t go back in there without a shot of caffeine in my system.” Sabrina rubbed her temples, not for effect, but because she had a migraine coming on.
This day had been one for the books, and it wasn’t even noon. The meeting she’d been late for had also gone on for longer than expected. Her client, Mr. Hargreaves, was a stuffy sixty-something with graying hair and a British accent that was more grating than it was attractive. Probably because he kept looking at her like she was prime rib and down talking her every chance he got.
One thing Sabrina hadn’t found a shortage of in this business was sexist men. They just couldn’t seem to get used to seeing a woman at the head of the table. Most of these men had dealt with her father or late uncle in some fashion, so they were, in fact, used to dealing with a man at the head of the table. But Sabrina was determined to teach them, one by one, that girls had balls too. Hers, in particular, were large, and she wasn’t afraid to swing them around and show them all who was boss.
Since Daddy’s diagnosis, she’d had no choice but to step in and take over. She’d spent most of her life running around the boardrooms and listening to him speak, and he’d always taken time out to teach her what he was doing. She’d observed his interactions with clients and how he handled business deals so often, she could mimic his words and approach almost perfectly. So it’d made sense that she took over for him, picking up where he left off and steering the ship in the right direction.
Although, she knew her father would have preferred a son to pass the business down to, but that just wasn’t in the cards. After a complicated labor, her mother had been forced to give up having more children, and they’d stopped at her. Did it hurt her feelings that she was in charge by default? Of course, but that wasn’t going to stop her from taking what was rightfully hers.
Sabrina had been running the show for nearly a year now, while her father followed doctor’s orders and traveled, rested, and enjoyed what time he had left. It was morbid to think that he was living on borrowed time, but she chose not to focus on that.
There was a million-dollar business that needed a master at its helm, and she was the woman for the job.
“Here you are, Miss Colloway,” Shawna said, startling her out of her thoughts. “I had them add a little foam on top,” she added with a smile.
“That was fast.” Sabrina grabbed the cup as if it were a lifeline and, as quickly as she brought it to her mouth, took gingerly sips so she didn’t burn her lips clean off her face. Leaning back with a satisfied sigh, she looked at her assistant. “Thank you so much, Shawna. You’re amazing.”
She meant it, too. Even though she could get moody and snappy sometimes, she actually liked the woman. She was kind and loyal and never complained. It was hard to get good help these days. So yeah, in lieu of her bitchiness, she could understand why her father had kept her around.
“I’m sorry for being bitchy earlier. Mondays,” she said with a shrug and a crooked, apologetic smile.
“Don’t worry about it.” Shawna brushed it all away with a flip of her hand. “It’s been a rough morning for all of us. The afternoon will be better,” she assured her.
“I hope you’re right. Is Mr. Hargreaves back yet?”
“He just called up. I’ll escort him to the conference room as soon as he steps off the elevator.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Gathering her coffee and notes, Sabrina headed for the conference room to wait. Although he’d given her a hard time for being late, despite it being out of her control, he’d made no such apologies for wasting her time when he’d forgotten to bring the financial reports for his own business—the main reason they were here today.
It took an inordinate amount of time for her client to arrive back at the conference room, considering he’d been on his way to the elevator some ten minutes ago. Of course, being the staunch professional her daddy had taught her to be, Sabrina merely smiled and indicated they should take their seats.
Hargreaves was proceeded by several of his top people, all male, young and good looking, and who bore a startling resemblance to the man of the hour—his sons?—and who barely spared her a glance. Whoever they were, it wasn’t hard to see what side of women’s rights they fell on.
Typical, she thought with a smug lift of her chin. Standing tall, she waited until everyone was comfortably seated, as was her method, before she took her own chair. Her father always said that it reminded them who they were answering to. The fact was, as manly as he tried to behave, Hargreaves was here for one thing and one thing only: a merger. His company was only months away from folding, and if his proposal was on par with what she was looking for, then she was his Hail Mary.
The scent of power was sweet, like the warm strawberry preserves her mother used to make in the summer, with a bit of citrus tang. She loved this part.
