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Chapter 2
“You sound like a hot mess,” Susan said.
“Thanks,” Dakota replied. “I didn’t sleep very well. What’s up?”
“Mrs. Anderson called—again,” her best friend and office manager, Susan Summers, replied. “She wants you to call back ASAP.”
“It’s eight in the morning.”
“She said it was important.”
“I’ll bet she did,” Dakota groused. “I’ll call her shortly.”
“Okay, but she said she had some information for you that was pretty important.”
“I’m not really in the mood to speak with anyone right now.”
“Why?”
She sighed. “It’s a long, bizarre story about designer sheets, soup and toupees. I’ll fill you in on the way to work.”
“I can’t wait to hear the details.”
Dakota hung up and went back to her laptop. She checked her schedule. There was only one meeting for the day. That’s hardly going to get you into the black ink.
Her business had been open less than six months. She had several clients, but her customers did not need her on a regular basis. One Eighty Renovations specialized in taking businesses that suffered from outdated decor, branding and staffing woes and turning them back into a hot commodity. Dakota took a holistic approach to re-energize her client’s consumer appeal, from the CEO’s attire, to the office chairs and the plates on the table at a luncheon meeting. When it came to improving the corporate image, nothing was off-limits.
Right now you need to improve your image…your financial image.
Since college, Dakota realized the value of self-reliance. She did not need anyone guiding her path. Not relying on others meant never being disappointed. Failure would be at her own hands, and that was not an option. A wave of melancholia swept over her. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to get swept back to a time when life was simple…easier. Her mother’s warm smile, the sage advice of her father and the one man she thought she would have in her life forever. Logan. With a heavy heart, Dakota forced herself back to the present.
She shut her laptop. Why was his aunt trying to reach her, and what was so dire? Probably another sermon on how I need to settle down and find Mr. Right.
“Well, that’s never gonna happen because there’s no such thing as Mr. Right.” If anything, it was more like Mr. Right Now.
* * *
Two hours later, she stepped into the elevator at work. The small office space she rented on South LaSalle Street in Chicago’s Loop district was the perfect place to grow a business, and near all the major transit lines. It had an art-deco feel with tall, white semigloss walls and tray ceilings. The bright decor contrasted nicely with the rich, cherry wood trim and the dark gray and burgundy textured carpet. There was a conference room, two large offices, a kitchen and reception area. The bathroom was just outside her suite. She loved the compact space. It was elegant, and the accessories and artwork she had chosen complemented the leather furniture. When she opened the glass door to her suite and walked in, a sense of pride practically overwhelmed her. One Eighty Renovations was her life’s blood she had built from whole cloth. She vowed it would flourish.
Susan was in the process of taking a bite out of her bagel when Dakota walked in.
“Well, if it isn’t the sex toy.”
Dakota snorted. “Don’t even get me started. Thanks to the Casanova of Home Goods, I need another path to Amadeus Rothschild—and fast.”
“Let me get this straight—you get propositioned by one of your suppliers, and all you’re worried about are the designer linens?”
“Yes. I’ve got a problem to solve, and I’m going to solve it. Dig up whatever you can on Mr. Rothschild and his company, Sheet Music. Someone we know besides Roger has to have his phone number. Call in some favors, make some promises…do whatever it takes to find him.”
“Sure thing. What about Mr. Thompson?”
“Forget him. I’m not some conquest, or here to appease his ego. I’ve dealt with the situation. Time to focus on landing a new client.”
“Sounds great. Got any ideas?”
“A few. Follow me.”
Susan got up and headed into Dakota’s office. She took a seat in the chair across from Dakota’s desk with her computer tablet in hand. “I’m all ears. Impress me.”
“She’s been doing that to me for years.” A man’s voice sounded behind them.
Both women looked up in unison. Dakota’s eyes flew to the doorway. The color drained off her face. She stood up shakily and braced her desk.
“Dakota, are you okay?” Susan whispered.
