AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Anyone I might know?”
She shrugs and a confused look flickers across her face. Like she can’t quite work out why I’m still here talking to her. An awkward silence that lasts for far too long passes between us.
“Anyway—” she begins.
“I got—” I say.
She offers me a polite smile that borders on a grimace. “You first.”
“I was just going to say, I received the design concepts.”
For the first time, something other than barely concealed irritation flashes across her face. She looks…excited?
“Glad to hear it,” she says slowly, and I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “Any initial thoughts on which one you’ll go with?”
I level her with a look. For some reason, it feels like she’s toying with me. Like this is a game for her and I’m not allowed to know all the rules just yet. “I think that’s obvious.”
A shadow of a smile teases her lips. “Humour me.”
“The first concept wasn’t bad at all, it just wasn’t…It wasn’t what we’re looking for.”
She nods and, for some reason, she looks ridiculously pleased with herself.
“The second one was much better. It was perfect, actually.”
I’d been a bit put out after seeing the first concept designs and wondered if I’d made the wrong choice going with Zensi Designs. But the second concept? I’ve never seen anything like it. Elegant, bright, bold, eclectic — something to stand out among the sea of dark, moody members clubs with low lighting that London and New York have somehow managed to amass in droves.
“It’s definitely going to cost more than I’d been expecting, but Cynthia captured my vision perfectly,” I say, expecting her to be pleased. But she actually looks annoyed.
“That’s Cynthia for you,” she says dully. “I’m glad you liked the designs, Mr Hawthorne.”
“Finn.”
“Finn,” she says pointedly, like it’s a chore to say my name. “We’ll get started right away on Monday booking contractors and getting samples in.” She pauses, looking uncertain for a moment. “I’ll be overseeing this project, just so you know. Cynthia is…Cynthia has—”
“She’s busy,” I finish for her. I’m no stranger to higher-ups passing their workload onto their juniors. I hate it, if I’m being honest. That’s why I try to do as much of the legwork myself as possible when I’m involved in a project. But I know how corporate life works. I know how to play the game. “That’s fine. If Cynthia’s delegated this to you, I trust her decision. It means we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other then, I suppose.”
“You’re not heading back to New York?”
I shake my head. To be honest, I probably should. This isn’t my only project right now — the New York location is busier than ever — but this launch is my priority.
It needs to be a success and I can’t trust anyone here to make sure that happens.
But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I say, “I’m staying until right after the launch. I’m a hands-on kind of guy.”
Ifhands-onis a synonym for “my anxiety will quite literally not let me step away until I’m sure everything is perfect”, then sure.
She nods and then turns back to her drink. I recognise the dismissal for what it is, but I’m not ready to let go just yet.
Something else is bothering me.
“Since we’re going to be working closely for a few months,” I say. “There’s something I want to ask.”
She looks over at me and raises an eyebrow in silent response. Her lack of desire to please me, to jump at my every command or question is oddly refreshing. I may effectively be her boss for the next three months, but it’s very clear that we’re playing on her turf right now.
“Is there a problem here?” I ask. “Between us, I mean.”
She blinks, and I’m sure that’s not the question she was expecting. “Why would there be a problem?”
