Copyright © 2020 Roxanne Tully.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Names and Characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual person's living or dead, events or locals, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: www.mayflowerstudio.com
Dedications
To Stephanie.
For completely misunderstanding your idea for a steamy romance…this one is totally for you.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
Elle
Elle Rybeck walked into the brightly lit busy office of Starr-Levy Events. The twentieth floor of the mid-rise building on the lower west side of Manhattan was still massively impressive; even on her third day on the job. The majority of the light poured through full-height windows throughout the floor. The lofty space, which expanded over two hundred meters, screamed modern. White desks with red leather armchairs lined up evenly. Each desk had a pin-up board with an endless array of samples and photos.
Not a soul so much as glanced up when the elevators opened for her seconds ago. All hard-working personnel busy exchanging ideas, solidifying venues or criticizing their cube-mate’s ideas. Elle took a deep breath, reminding herself for the fifth time that week that this was a good decision in continuing her successful career as an event planner.
Tossing her oversized tote bag onto her “new girl” sized desk, she pulled out her chair and turned on her screen. On day three of working for Starr-Levy Events she didn’t expect too many messages. She nearly fell out of her chair when her inbox started pouring in new unread emails. Her eyes went wide as she scrolled to the bottom of the bolded lines— the first one having a timestamp from 11:45 the night before. Most were from a few names she recognized within the firm, but nearly all possessed the same subject line: RE: URGENT: DONOVAN HAYES EVENT. She double clicked on the first one which had been addressed specifically to her directly from her new boss.
From: Dean Levy
Adding Elle to the thread.
Elle - can you please handle. Thx.
Handle what? Elle quickly scrolled down to the thread before she was looped in and began reading. Picking up on the matter even before reaching the bottom, she understood that a guy named Donovan Hayes was throwing a party…a surprise party…20-year anniversary for his wife…for…where was this date of event? THIS SUNDAY?? It was already Wednesday. And they just got this account? Elle still couldn’t understand; what made this guy so special? From what she understood, SLE would turn away anyone who wanted an event planned in less than a month. Either someone at the firm screwed up and they needed to make a client happy ASAP, or this guy was a big deal.
Elle felt someone approach her and swiveled in her chair.
Bobby Rankoff, a lanky, preppy attired tenured event planner who she understood to—at this point in his career—pass on information, critique others and barely do any work himself, walked over to her desk with a shit-eating grin on his face. He tossed a blue folder onto her desk and held up two thumbs. “Elle! Can’t thank you enough.” You’ve got this!” The guy was also a maddening phony.
Elle shook her head and held up her hands. “Bobby, wait. Not that I’m not thrilled to get the work,” she laughed nervously, “but what makes this guy so…urgent?”
Bobby raised his head slightly and looked around dramatically. “Donovan Hayes is the CEO of Hayes Enterprises; one of the city’s biggest private investment firms. We don’t turn down these types of clients, even when their requests are nearly impossible. Where there’s money and recognition, there’s a Starr-Levy event planner ready for the job.” Bobby raised an eyebrow at his new co-worker and flashed a smile before pointing back to the frustratingly thin folder. “Hayes’ assistant’s contact is in there along with all the info she’s given us last night, including budget. And Elle…use every last dime,” he stressed. He broke into his cheerful tone again. “Good luck.”
Elle’s mouth dropped as Bobby walked away. She stared at the folder. Her heart was beating at an uncomfortable pace. Somewhere in her throat was a breath for air, she knew it, but just couldn’t find it. It wasn’t like her to get this nervous. Especially over a job she didn’t care for.
But one she desperately needed.
“Elle?” Her co-worker and next-door cube mate, Mimi called in a soft, tentative voice that seemed to have snapped Elle out of her time-wasteful daze.
“Why me?” Elle whispered to her. For a moment she felt proud that her new boss believed she could handle the job and trusted her to run this important event.
Mimi pushed off her desk and rolled closer to Elle. She lowered her voice. “Did you read the entire chain of emails? Everyone copied in the request turned it down. Everyone claimed to be too busy with projects or admitted to not having the means to plan such an event.
Elle ruffled through the folder. “How many people are they talking here?”
“Ninety-Seven names on the guest list.” Mimi answered without blinking. It was as if she just announced how many people were pronounced dead in a tragic accident.
“Ugh, and counting.” Elle’s heart dropped even further after opening more emails from that morning.
“Must have been after I was dropped off the chain. Whew.”
“Thanks.” Elle murmured.
As if she weren’t close enough, Mimi rolled closer to Elle.
“Between you and me…I think there’s a lot more to this than just a rich guy in a completely different industry who Starr and Dean want to impress.” Mimi spoke low. “There’s definitely something they’re not telling us. Something that makes this account very important.”
Elle stared at her new friend blankly. “Something worth waiting until next Monday morning before I get too comfortable here?” Elle murmured, biting her lip.
Mimi pressed her lips together and nodded sympathetically.
“Great,” was all Elle could say.
* * *
Two hours later, Elle caught up on emails, memorized the thin blue folder of information handed to her and left a message for Katherine—Donovan’s assistant—to give her a call back as soon as possible. Elle wasn’t wasting any time. First thing first; Get the venue! From what little she was given, it had to be a place well known in the city, highly elaborate, and expensive; if not by price then at the very least by appearance. And it needed to be large
enough to fit over one hundred and thirteen people comfortably. Elle had twelve sites pulled up on her screen and started calling them immediately. Each conversation lasting shorter than the previous one. Elle had learned to get to the point by the fifth phone call. She mentioned names, figures, even a threat, though nothing worked. Finally, she called the one place that always seemed to work for her.
“What about the Edison room?” Elle hoped the hotel manager from her go-to venue in Manhattan would somehow make magic happen.
“Elle, I’m sorry, this is just too last minute. You know if I had a smaller party, I could move things around, but this sounds impossible. At least for us,” Gary explained. He was the restaurant and event manager at the prominent hotel and was as close as Elle had to a friend most days.
“I could put you on the top of our list for high profile events,” Elle bribed.
“Even if I could move my corporate event to the smaller ballroom, I just don’t have the extra staff,” Gary whined.
Elle knew she was asking for too much, but she was desperate. “I know, Gary,” she sighed. “Thanks.”
“Keep me in mind for future events…and I mean further in the future.”
Elle reassured her friend and hung up. Keeping her hand on the receiver, she took her usual count of deep breaths again. Each time she hung up she was careful that it wasn’t with force. She wouldn’t let anyone see her frustration on her first account with the firm.
And possibly her last.
Later that afternoon, after leaving a few voicemails for caterers, Elle made a phone call she knew she’d have to make eventually and dreaded it. This one she made from her cell phone.
“Elle,” the sleazy voice on the other end sounded pleased and surprised at the same time.
“Shawn,” Elle forced a cheerful tone. “How’s it goin’?
“You either need something, or you’ve been feelin’ lonely lately. Either one works for me, babe. What can I do for you?”
“What are you doing Sunday?” she asked, getting to the point.
“With any luck—you.” Elle could hear the smirk playing on his face.
Hang up, hang up, hang up.
Deep breath. This was worth it. “I need a photographer.”
“For this Sunday? Either you’re slackin’ at work, babe, or someone bailed.”
“Shawn, you’re the only photographer I know who doesn’t work Sundays.” She rubbed her temples, trying to remember what worked for her ex. “Would it help if you knew you were my first phone call?”
“No. But it would help to know what I’m getting out of this.”
Elle threw out the number that she budgeted for the photographer.
“Whoa, how many people are we talking here?”
Elle bit her lip. “Little over a hundred.”
“Are you insane? Elle, I can’t do that alone.”
“Yes, you can. Just grab a friend and give him a spare camera, we’ll only give them the pictures you take.”
Silence was on the other end for longer than Elle cared for. “This is not the event planner I know, Elle. You plan perfection,” he paused again. “You’re desperate.”
Elle glanced around her office and lowered her voice. “I could lose my job, Shawn.”
She heard a long sigh on the other end and what sounded like tapping.
“Fine. Send me the details.”
Elle breathed out a huge sigh of relief and thanked her sleazy ex. “I need coffee,” she mumbled to herself, then stood, tucking her phone in her back pocket. She turned to find Mimi standing behind her with one raised eyebrow.
“How much of that did you hear?” Elle felt her shoulders drop.
“Enough to be curious who this Shawn is…” Mimi’s smile was deviously playful. She pulled on Elle’s arm. “Come on, you need a little more than just coffee.”
Chapter 2
Scott
Scott Weston walked into Donovan’s large corner office, the bright afternoon sun glaring through the enormous windows. Scott always appreciated a good view, especially on the thirtieth floor of a Times Square building but couldn’t stand the glare. The rest of the space was primarily furnished in dark wood with a bar across from his immaculate desk. Situated in the middle of the room was a black leather sofa and armchair where Donovan conducted private business meetings that involved one to two clients he considered too important for a conference room.
Scott stood near the far corner of the room and watched a few repeats of the commercial billboard across the street. He checked his watch. One more minute. He never waited longer than seven for a scheduled appointment. Not even for Donovan Hayes.
“Why seven?” Kat, Donovan’s assistant, had once asked him.
“Because all meetings can be wrapped up within five minutes, once you know someone is waiting for you. And I tend to give two minutes leeway for travel and updating ones’ assistant.”
“Scott.” Donovan entered his own office and tossed his jacket onto the sofa.
“Another thirty seconds and you would have had Kat chasing me down the corridor.”
“How’s the new investment?”
Scott rolled his eyes and turned back to the view. “I haven’t signed anything yet or written any checks.”
Donovan raised a hopeful brow.
“But I will,” Scott reassured.
“Sure you won’t reconsider a few investments I have in mind?”
“No, Donovan. I’ve had my eyes on Starr-Levy Events for months. I’ve already explained why and I’m not getting into it with you again.”
“I know, I know—all those charity events they do at firm cost only. Not very smart those two, you know.”
Scott bit the inside of his lip and turned away from his long-time friend and occasional business partner. The guy loved to see small businesses fail, especially ones working towards the interest of others. And people thought that Scott was the ruthless one.
Regardless of how Donovan felt about the small business, he had offered to have Starr-Levy Events throw a last-minute anniversary party for his wife, Elaine. Part of their reputation was the fact that they were one of the few firms that provided their services for zero-profit when it was for a good cause. There weren’t many in the city that still did that.
“They didn’t have to plan this useless party for you by the way. They could have turned you down.”
“It’s Elaine’s surprise anniversary party,” Donovan reminded calmly. He stood and went to sit on the sofa. “Besides, it’s you they wouldn’t turn down.”
“They could have. It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“Then why did you ask?” Donovan prodded with a smirk.
Scott took a breath and shook his head. He wasn’t sure why he asked. He guessed it was to please his old boss who had helped him throughout the years to become one of the most successful business investors in Manhattan.
Hayes Enterprises focused mainly on real estate investments, which sometimes meant Donovan buying out small businesses and their properties in order to help the big dogs get their space. Scott took comfort knowing that these businesses had at least been suffering and a buy-out was their best option.
But then there were firms that Donovan would take particularly little interest in, which he’d bring Scott along on to handle in his own way—saving them from ultimate destruction.
But now, Scott was looking to take on another firm. Partner with Starr-Levy Events and provide them with business strategies to support their success rather than let them sink in their inevitable failure at the rate they were going. Scott saw their business plans, income and expenses, and payroll increases while services offered remained at a fixed rate. Those two were definitely doing something wrong.
“How’s that going by the way?” Donovan finally said when he didn’t receive a reply on his last question.
Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” He walked over to Donovan’s desk and dialed on speaker.
The other e
nd answered after two rings.
“Dean Levy,” a busy voice answered.
“Dean, it’s Scott.”
“Scott, how are you?” the voice turned more prominent and aware.
“Listen—I’m here with Donovan Hayes, the client for the event you’re planning this weekend.”
“Assuming I’m on speaker then—Mr. Hayes, how are you? I know we haven’t had a chance to speak yet and I wanted to thank you for putting your trust in us to handle your event.”
Donovan rolled his eyes and took a sip of his whisky.
Scott ignored the rudeness. “Dean we’re calling to see how the planning’s going.”
“It’s going great. We’ve got our best on job.”
“Where is this happening anyway? We get a venue yet?” Donovan called from halfway across the room.
Scott heard vigorous typing in the background before Dean answered. “As a matter of fact, we do. We just booked The Square Landing. It’s right on the water with impeccable views.”
“Yeah no, I’ve heard of it...it’s not a bad spot.” Donovan rubbed his jaw and glanced at Scott. “We couldn’t get the North Plaza huh!”
“Actually Mr. Hayes, the North is limited on their accommodations no matter when you book your event. They haven’t updated their menu in years, or their decor. And I imagine it’s rather burnt out with some of the guests you’re expecting,” Dean replied, rather confident.
“Uh-huh...and uhh, the guest list, nothing’s gone out yet as far as invitations?”
“We don’t send any details out to guests until every last aspect of the event is booked, solid and vendor deposits are made. Once that happens, changes are nearly impossible. Your planner has sent out a save the date email to everyone on the guest list. With a ‘details to be provided’.” More typing on the other end of the line. “Which my…updates are now telling me…should be sent out by Saturday morning.”
Donovan nodded slowly, but said nothing.
“Thanks Dean. Looks like you’ve got this covered,” Scott nodded slightly.
A knock sounded at the closed door and Kat peeked in.
“Donovan, Mr. Morris is here for you.”
Donovan nodded once at his assistant before she disappeared behind the wooden door, and then turned back to the speaker phone. “Mr. Levy, it was great speaking with you. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
Planned to Perfection Page 1