“Are you saying you’ve come up with the money? Remember, I said I want it all at once, not in tiny piecemeal installments.”
“And I’m calling to inquire if I should send the money to your regular bank account or if you have another account you prefer.”
“You have the money?” I want to laugh when I hear the surprise in his voice. Like Sonya, Roddy doesn’t know my background and thinks I’m a struggling bakery owner. Which, that part is true, but I wonder if he would have the same note of disbelief in his voice if he knew I was fromthatHawthorne family.
“Yes. All of it.”
He snickers. “All? Who’s dick did you suck to get that kind of cash?”
I grab a pencil on my desk and squeeze it so I don’t scream at him. “No dick-sucking was involved. Just handholding and meetings in conference rooms.” My mind flashes back to threedays ago when Damien and I got married and the subsequent days spent transferring the shares from the trust and exchanging the money to my bank account. After our disastrous night in the honeymoon suite, Damien left the business dealings to Terry and his accountants. I was thankful for that. I don’t think I could do normal business stuff with him after slapping his face.
“So,” I say, bringing myself to the present, “Where should I send it?”
He grunts. “The price has gone up.”
I squeeze the pencil to the point of breaking. “Since when? The price has been stable for months.”
“Property values are going up, sweetheart. I don’t know what to tell you.”
I roll my eyes again. If I could punch Roddy, I would. Yes, property values have gone up, but I’m sure he’s saying this because he hates that I’ve gotten one over him. He has been taunting me for months that he’s going to sell the property and that it’s “Prime Real Estate.” That’s how he got the Mr. Real Estate nickname from Sonya. He just wouldn’t shut up about it. But I know the real reason he was taunting me. His eyes said it all every time he came toAntoinette’s.He hoped I would suck his dick. Sometimes I wonder if he’s threatening to sell not because he found a buyer, but because he wants me. Then I remember something. I loosen my grip on the pencil and start twirling it in my fingers.
“Hey, didn’t we sign a first deal with you? Remember when you said you were willing to sell the property at the agreed-upon price?
“It’s a non-binding contract, honey. I don’t know where you went to school—”
“Yale.”
“What?”
“Yale. I went to Yale.”
He stumbles over his words. “Yale? What did you do there? A two-week course in how to manage a startup.” He laughs at his own joke.
“A college degree in business administration, actually. And you would have seen every time you came to my office if you looked anywhere that was not my boobs.”
The other end goes silent and if he didn’t clear his throat, I might have thought he hung up. I love putting him in his place. “Roddy. I read over that contract and it is binding. You better start transferring the deed to my name once I send the full payment to your regular account.”
I end the call, feeling triumphant. I get up from my chair and go to the front of the store to help serve customers. Since it is early morning, there’s a small queue. The business-dressed New Yorkers in the bakery look out of place in the rococo-style shop, but lately, they have been the bulk of our customers and usually place bulk orders. A few are here to pick up orders and I serve those while Zack, my youngest employee, a tattooed bodybuilder, serves the single orders. From the way most of the women ogle at his tight shirt under the pink apron, he’s the reason we have an uptick in women and gay men coming in.
My mind goes to another muscled individual I was with last week. My husband. I shouldn’t have slapped him. Or at least I should have said sorry after. Instead, I stormed out of the suite and went back to my own. We returned to New York the morning after. And the trip back was uncomfortably silent. Damien ignored me the entire trip, and I was beginning to doubt my choice of husband. Not that I had much of a choice. The only other person I approached with the deal had been apprehensive about going against my brother and my family through such a stealth maneuver. Damien is the only one salivating idea and wouldn’t let everyone know I had transferred my shares to him.
I still wonder if what I did is right. I have betrayed my family. I’ve gotten into bed with the enemy. Figuratively speaking. But I saved my business. Twenty people’s livelihoods were on the line and now they no longer have to look for another job elsewhere. And now that I am very rich, I make a mental note to give them all raises. Sonya especially deserved it for her wonderful recipes.
And then there’s Lake. I saved him too. He was happy to see me when he returned from spending a few days with my mother, and luckily, I was back from Vegas before he came back.
I finish the bulk orders and the mass of people dwindles to a trickle as the rush hour passes. As I return to my office, I hear my phone ringing and groan when I see the name flashing on the screen.
“Hi Mom,” I say. My cheerful mood is suddenly clouded in darkness. She’s the last person I want to talk to. My heart hammers against my chest as I wonder why she could be calling. She can’t have known about the marriage yet. Or maybe the trustee told her. Damien paid him for his silence, but who’s to say if he thought going to my mother was the safer option for him?
“So you do answer your phone.”
“I was serving customers. What do you want?”
She sighs and I hear clapping in the background. She’s probably at the country club watching some golf or polo event. “Do you have any idea who I’ve just spoken to?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“Remember Preston? He’s just coming out of a recent divorce and he says he’s willing to meet you for lunch whenever you’re free.”
