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The elevator doors shut before she could get to me, and the last thing I heard was her calling me an asshole.
I flinched, but pulled out my phone and opened my text messages.
Me: Plan A didn’t go so well.
Nick: Do you have a plan B?
Me: I’m not sure there is going to be a plan B.
Closing my eyes, I cursed. “Fuck.”
Me: She’s pissed and made it clear she isn’t interested in me or designing a house for me.
Nick: Don’t give up, Bryson.
Me: I’m not going to beg her, Nick.
Nick: Don’t. Give. Up.
The doors opened, and I walked out of the building and to the car I had rented. The grand gesture I thought for sure would work had blown up in my face, and now I was positive that not only was my career in jeopardy due to my injury, but that I’d also lost Rose for good.
Chapter Nine
ROSE
The elevator doors shut, and it felt like my heart dropped to the floor. Why had I been so mean to him? He had shown up at my job, though. My job! One part of me was mortified, the other…happy? Feeling more confused than ever, I turned around to see my boss glaring at me.
“Rose, I’d like a word, please.”
Closing my eyes, I counted to five and started to walk back to the office.
Everyone stared at me, including Melissa. She wore a smug smile, and as I passed by her, she said, “Did you really just call Bryson Robinson an asshole?”
I flinched. “Did I say that part out loud?”
She nodded. “And I’m pretty sure he heard you since the elevator doors hadn’t shut yet.”
“Rose!” Mr. Stiner yelled out.
I jumped and headed in the direction of his office as Melissa whispered, “Should I find you some moving boxes for your office?”
Sending her an icy smile, I replied, “Not yet.”
The moment I shut the office door, my boss unleashed on me.
“What were you thinking? We just lost a huge client because you thought you weren’t up to the task of the design?”
I stared at him with my mouth wide open. When I finally recovered, I let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m sorry, what? I must have missed something because it was you who thought I wasn’t up to the task. You all but pushed Duke onto him.”
He rolled his eyes. The bastard rolled his eyes at me. “You could have just let Duke look at your designs if the man wanted you to design the house.”
Holding up my hands, I cut him off. “Stop right there. I am one-hundred-percent confident that I could draw up a plan for Mr. Robinson, and he would love it. What I was trying to do was tell him that I’d only been working here for a few months, and that it might not be appropriate for me to take on a client as a lead designer.”
Mr. Stiner huffed. “I don’t care if you’re sleeping with the man, Rose. He wanted to use our firm, and for a very lucrative project, and if that meant letting him think an unqualified person was going to design the man’s house, then that’s what we’ll do.”
I took a step back as if the man had struck me. Drawing in a deep breath, I counted to ten, then exhaled.
“First of all, even though it is absolutely none of your business, I’m not sleeping with Mr. Robinson. We have mutual friends. Second, I may not hold a master’s degree like Duke does, and I may not have years of experience with designing, but I have more talent in my pinky finger than Duke Walters will ever have. You don’t think I can design a home for Bryson Robinson? Well, I can.”
He raised a brow and crossed his arms.
“And I will.”
“What do you mean, you will? He isn’t working with our firm because of you.”
I saw what was coming next out of his mouth, and I held my breath.
“Because of you, I lost a huge client. A star. A millionaire who was probably going to build a multimillion-dollar home. He’s gone because of you. How, Ms. Shaw, do you think you’re going to be able to design his home, because as of this moment…”
Knowing the next words would depend on if Bryson ever spoke to me again, I stated, “I’ll design it myself.”
He laughed. “Why does your generation think that you can simply do something because you say it? You need to put in the sweat and tears, and you will not be doing that at this firm.”
Reaching for my notebook, I smiled at my former boss. “You’re right, Mr. Stiner, I won’t because I quit. I don’t need the firm to design. And as far as Mr. Robinson goes, I’ll be sure to send you a picture of his finished home that I designed myself so your ‘more qualified’ associates can use it as a point of reference for what to do to keep clients happy. Oh, and I’ll be pocketing one-hundred percent of the proceeds for this design. I’d say that’s a helluva raise I just gave myself, don’t you?”
