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“About what exactly?” I ask her, my eyes sweeping to my brother, trying to get an indication of what the hell is going on. He offers me nothing.
“You are going to demolish the center?” Beth questions in a high pitch as her hands find her hips, and I am glad most of the media scrum has gone. I grab her elbow, relieved to actually have my hands on her, and pull her over to the side of the room for more privacy.
“We will be redeveloping it. Expanding it. Making it into residential homes as well,” I clarify. This is an issue that Eddie already raised when Oscar made the proposal of investing in redevelopment of this site.
“But that will take years,” she says, not backing down and I welcome the challenge. No one ever challenges me—not ever in public, anyway—and I see my brother’s eyes widen.
“I can assure you, Beth, that—” She doesn’t let me finish.
“If you can promise us all an alternative place to enjoy our community while the redevelopment is happening, then that would go a long way to appeasing the locals, Mr. Rothschild.” I look behind her and see the small crowd she has in support all nodding and murmuring in response.
I smile, impressed with her enthusiasm. “We will ensure you have full amenities during the redevelopment.” I notice her eyes flick to my mouth, taking in my grin, and she bites her lip in frustration.
“It has to be close to transport,” she continues, her eyebrows rising in challenge, not backing down and pushing me for everything she can. I appreciate her standing her ground. She knows what she wants and is going for it.
“We can ensure that is the case.” I try to remain professional, even though I smile wider.
“And accessibility for everyone.” My eyes flick down to follow her gaze, toward a man in the small gathering crowd behind her in a wheelchair.
“I am sure that can be arranged as well. Anything else?”
“We all want a say in the redesign. We use the facilities, so we want a chance to make them suitable to our needs.” Her demands nearly knock me over. She is cunning, smart, well-spoken, and just what I need in my corner. She is a mix of Oscar and Eddie as well as someone with great contacts and project management experience.
I want her. On my team and in my bed.
I think about my next move carefully. I have already offered her a job, but she hasn’t accepted it as of yet. But there is no way I am leaving here without a yes.
“Fine. On one condition,” I say to her, my eyes piercing hers, and her gaze doesn’t waver.
“What is that?” she asks, her eyes narrowing, probably already knowing what I am going to say.
“You come and work with me.”
7
BETH
What? What the hell did he just say?
I squirm a little because I can feel my father’s eyes boring into the back of my head from where he is situated behind me. Guilt for not telling him earlier swirls in my stomach, making me clench it a little. I don’t like keeping things from him, but I needed time to think about it all myself. I guess this is politics, though. Never a dull moment and everything moving at a rapid pace.
“Three months, Beth. Give me three months,” Harrison says to me quietly as he steps closer. This is now the second time our bodies have been this close. Like magnets, the pull between us is starting to get stronger.
His scent envelops me, taking me down a whirlpool of rainforest and fresh summer breeze.Why does it relax me so much?With us being so close, it borders on unprofessional, and I wonder if he has lost his mind while my heart does a weird flip-flop movement that startles me.
Heat pours from his gaze as it settles on me. I watch as his eyes flick down to my lips, and my tongue comes out, sweeping across my lower lip involuntarily, a movement that makes his nostrils flair, before his eyes meet mine again.
There is lust in his gaze. The way he is looking at me in this moment, I feel every inch of my female instincts pinging my skin, telling me that Harrison Rothschild is drinking me in. I’m not sure why, since I am not the kind of girl that men usually gaze at. Especially a man like Harrison. I find it confusing that he would have that type of reaction to a suburban girl like me. But my skin heats all the same, and my heart starts racing, my head saying one thing, and my body saying something entirely different.
“Why?” I ask him, challenging him some more. I still can’t believe this is a serious offer. I want to know why someone like Harrison Rothschild would want someone like me working with him. I’m just an event planner. I’m a nobody.
He positions his body even closer, shielding me from everyone and everything around us so all I can see is him. I look up to meet his eyes, my hands remaining by my sides, my nails pinching into my palms. I’m too scared to move them in case they land on his chest, where I know I will find euphoria in his sculpted muscles. The very same muscles I have dreamt about ever since I saw them in the event closet last week.
“Because you are not afraid to speak your mind. You are immensely organized, seemingly prepared for anything. You are empathetic, yet firm and supportive. Plus, you already know the who’s who of D.C., and I really need someone like you in my corner,” he states without missing a beat.
Boy, he is good. No wonder all the women swoon at his feet. I already want to give him my vote as well as my underwear.
The compliment is not something I was expecting, nor prepared for. It makes me feel seen. Like he is looking right into who I am.
