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She huffs out a quiet sigh of relief and stuffs her tablet back into her bag. “Just to let you know, we’re looking at about a twelve-month time frame for a project of this scope.”
My heart drops and that knot of anxiety swells in my chest.Twelve months?
She accurately deciphers the look of shock that must be spasming across my face because she quickly adds, “Nine months at a stretch. It’ll be a challenge, but I’m confident we can—”
“We’re launching this summer.” I swallow, trying to take a large and surreptitious gulp of air. This is not what I need right now.This is not what I need. I reach for my tie and tug it loose, wondering if I’m imagining the way it’s begun to suffocate me. “Cynthia assured me it could be done in three months. That’s part of the reason we went with Zensi Designs.”
Her jaw clenches and I can tell that this news hasn’t been relayed to her.
“Well,” she says, her voice strained. “If that’s what Cynthia’s promised, then I’m sure we can accommodate you.” She’s grinding her jaw so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t snapped yet. She repositions her bag on her shoulder and gives me a curt nod. “It’s been lovely to meet you, Mr. Hawthorne.” Except, her tone makes it sound like it’s been anything but. “I’ll be in touch shortly with some of my––Cynthia’sinitial concepts as discussed.”
“How shortly?” I ask. “Three months deadline, remember?”
There it is again. That irritated twitch on the side of her face. I’m struck with the urge to reach forward and smooth it out.
“I’ll have them over to you by the end of the week,” she says through gritted teeth. And then she’s turning on the balls of her feet — impressive given the heels — and storming back down the stairs before I can get in another word.
3
AMBER
Cynthia is unapologetic.
“It’s The August Room, darling,” she purrs down the phone.
I can hear relaxing music playing in the background, and every so often, she pulls away from the speaker to bark an order at someone. I think she might be at a spa.
“How could I say no?” she continues. “Do you know what this could do for the brand? We get this right and we’ll be the most in-demand interior design company in London.”
Her use of “we” irks me because we’re not a “we”. It’s just me.
“Cynthia, I have other clients,” I tell her bluntly. “I can’t dedicate the amount of time a three-month job of this size would need around my current workload.”
“It’s fine.” I can picture her waving a heavily jewelled hand in front of her, a dismissive gesture she’s done to me countless times. “Kirsty can take on your slack.”
“Kirsty?” I like the girl and everything, but she’s fresh out of university and needs more mentoring. “Cynthia, those aremyprojects. My designs. I’ve been working hard on th—”
“And you’ll take The August Roomand Hawthorne as your only client until the project is finished.”
I don’t think she even heard my interruption.
“See, darling,” she says with that trademark dismissive drawl. “You’re making a problem out of nothing. It’s all sorted itself out, hasn’t it?”
“But—”
“Darling, I’ve really got to run.” I can hear a muffled voice letting her know the sauna is ready. I was right. She isat a spa. “Let’s discuss this in person on Friday. Book somewhere nice for lunch —Il Pampero, perhaps? I’ve been dyingfor a good Italian meal.”
“Cynthia, Ireally—”
“Ta ta, darling. We’ll chat on Friday.” She hangs up without waiting for me to say goodbye and I’m left staring at her name on my phone screen.
I could call her back, but there’s no point. She won’t answer. And even if she did, I know she won’t listen to me. Not now anyway. Friday at lunch is my best chance of getting her to change her mind on this project.
Speaking of projects…I glance at my watch. It’s just gone seven. Hawthorne and I spent longer walking through the townhouse than I’d expected. It was easy to get lost in the details and the potential on the walls as we slowly combed through the building.
I have to hand it to Finn Hawthorne; he really did pick a great location. And with his vision for a decadent space that uses the building’s pre-existing historical architecture, I can see The August Roomfitting in easily with London’s swanky roster of private members clubs.
I tap my fingers impatiently against my thigh as my train home crawls slowly along the tracks. It’s late, I know, but I’m itching to start sketching out some initial concepts. I spend the journey home going through each floor in my mind, picturing the empty building filled with furniture and art, the peeling cream walls painted with sultry colours, chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings.
