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“Great,” I tell her, relaxing into my seat. She just wants a status update. A bit unorthodox to call me all the way into the office for that, but Cynthia has always been one for dramatics. “We’re nearly finished, and the launch is still on schedule.”
“Yes. I received an invitation from Hawthorne a few days ago.”
“You should come down and see it before the party,” I say reluctantly. I don’t want her in the space really, but it seems like the polite thing to say. “I think you’ll be happy with what I’ve done. Hawthorne seems very pleased with it all.”
More than pleased, actually. The annoying emails nit-picking and changing everything have long since stopped darkening my inbox. I can tell it doesn’t come easily to him, stepping back and letting me do what I do best. But he’s trying.
“Glad to hear it,” Cynthia says through pursed lips. Only she doesn’t sound very glad at all. “I’ll see if I have some space in my schedule to inspect your work. But really, dear, I shouldn’t have to hover over you like this.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I worry your lack of confidence in your own work means you’re not ready for this promotion.”
I stare at her unblinking. “Excuse me?”
“I expect my senior designers to have a certain level of independence and autonomy, and I’m not quite sure you’re there yet, darling.”
She’s joking. Surely she’s got to be joking. “Cynthia, I just thought you might like to see the property before the launch party. I wasn’t suggesting that I need you to—”
“But don’t worry.” She raises her voice slightly to cut me off. “I know we’ve agreed that you’ll receive a promotion following the completion of this project with Hawthorne, and I don’t intend to go back on my word.”
Relief floods through me. “Thank—”
“But you’ll need to convince me that you have what it takes.”
I frown. How much more can I possibly do?
“The Pevenseyis opening up a new branch in Brighton and they’d like us to put in a design bid.”
I sit up a little straighter in my seat. The Pevensey is a luxury boutique hotel brand and would definitely be a major get for my portfolio. “That sounds amazing. As soon as I finish up with The August Room, I can start working on concepts to pitch to them.”
Cynthia shakes her head. “The bid is due in a week. We’re on a tight time frame here. I’ll need you to have the concepts over to me by Wednesday so I can go over them, make any changes, and send them on.”
My throat goes dry. “Cynthia, when am I supposed to find the time to do that? We’re in the final stages of The August Roomproject and that’s the busiest time for us.”
“Being a senior designer means being able to multitask.”
I know that. Of course I fucking know that. Day in, day out, all I do is multitask. I take a deep, steadying breath and try to remind myself how close I am to the finish line.
The house. The promotion. The pay rise.So, so close.
“I’m not sure I’ll have time to go to Brighton, check out the location, design the concepts, and source items all while working on The August Room.”
Cynthia’s lips curl back up into that not-a-smile again. “Well, as I said, this is the kind of workload my senior designers should expect. If that’s not something you can handle, then perhaps we should revisit whether you’re truly ready for this step up.”
I think Cynthia may be the worst person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. I grip the fabric of my skirt tightly, balling it up into my fists to stop myself from doing something stupid like leaping across the table and throttling her. “No,” I say through teeth so gritted I’m surprised I haven’t ground them down to little nubs yet. “I can handle it. I’ll make time.”
“Excellent.” Cynthia claps her hands. “This is a truly brilliant opportunity for you, Amber, darling. Work on those concepts and get them over to me as soon as you can.”
“Fine, but—”
Her phone rings and she picks it up without so much as a glance in my direction. “Genevieve, darling, so good to hear from you…” She waves a hand toward the door, dismissively ushering me away.
I sit there simmering in my fury for a second or two and then grab my bag and leave. The only reason I don’t let the door slam on the way out is because I’m afraid the glass might shatter.
17
AMBER
