Scott focused on his water glass, turning it in place as he remembered the Blake Brothers accounting firm. Truth was, Scott couldn’t stop thinking about Richard Blake and his small but loyal staff. Real people. They were a family and would have been demolished by selling out.
“I wanted to help. I looked into their finances and business plans and figured out a way. My boss, a certain Donovan Hayes we both know well, refused to listen so I invested my own money.”
“Didn’t that cost Hayes Enterprises an account?”
“It did, but Donovan was more interested in the turn out. I knew it was a risk, but I saw what they were doing wrong. Anyway, they thrived over the next fiscal year and I pulled out less than two years later with enough profits to make it on my own, saving small businesses without ruining lives.”
Well, without ruining too many lives.
“What about you and Donovan?”
He chuckled. “I’m one of his favorite people. He acts like I still work for him. Once in a while he’ll tip me off to a company that has potential, or just not worth his time. I prefer to think the former.”
Isabel watched him with interest; as if discovering something incredible about him. “A superhero who wears Brooks Brothers ties.”
Scott hesitated. “Except, I’m not always very nice to those I rescue.”
“They never are,” Isabel waved a hand and picked up her fork.
“Aren’t they?”
“No. Most of the time, superheroes are arrogant and dismissive and they almost always think they know best! The sure way to win,” she shrugged. “But most importantly, they learn a valuable lesson at the end.”
She was spot on until the lesson at the end part. He had yet to be intrigued by anyone he’d “saved”. He bit the tip off a breadstick and then pointed it at her. “You watch too much T.V.”
She tossed her head back with laughter. “I’m not kidding. It’s a Hollywood formula. You’ve seen it. The hero always makes the wrong judgment of how to stop the villain because of…let’s use the example of rash decisions…because he didn’t stop to listen to his knowledgeable—but not as powerful—sidekick. Who typically ends up being right, because of something our hero didn’t see to begin with.”
Scott listened with great amusement to her analogy. There was a grin on his face that he couldn’t suppress, no matter how hard he tried. “So, I’m no hero after all?” He tried to sound disappointed.
She sat up and continued with a hint of enjoyment. “Oh no no, you are still very much the hero. You have to remember; without you, the one with the power to save others—in your case an excess of funds and vision for success—there would be no one to save the victims of…the bigger fish of Manhattan.” She shrugged, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth. Which, all in itself, almost made him lose focus.
He was doing it again; staring at her. He rarely found anyone that mesmerized him. And what she’d just said. He couldn’t figure out why it meant so much to him. He almost wanted her to say it again—the validation of his often ruthlessness.
Surely that is what it was. Now he couldn’t help needing to know more about her.
Chapter 9
Elle
“So, I’ll stand by my word that I won’t ask you about business dealings. But can I at least ask what you do and how you know so much about what makes up a superhero?”
Elle pursed her lips knowing full well how she should answer the question; and how strange it would be of her—not to mention suspicious as hell—if she refused to answer. She could do it. She could tell him that she worked for the firm that was hired to plan his friend’s anniversary party. And that if he had spotted her an hour earlier that night, he would have found her in black ankle pants with traces of powdered sugar on them, a fanny pack, her black sneakers and barely there make up.
She could just tell him that, and something told her he’d probably get a kick out of it.
Yeah, out of you being a joke.
No. He’d find it hilarious. She was sure of it. And he’ll share this “funny” story with his best bud—a.k.a. Donovan Hayes. And sure the Scott Weston she was having the pleasure of dining with might be one hell of a charmer, but who knew the real him behind it all? What if he weren’t attracted to her? The man seemed like he could do some serious damage to her career.
What you don’t know, could come back to bite you, Elle. Don’t be the ignorant hero. Assess the situation first.
Even if she wouldn’t get fired for being caught out on the floor, she’d blow her whole “party—goer” ensemble that will no doubt get around. The other employees would mock her for her back up plan when she couldn’t take care of things off the floor.
“Vendor management,” she answered half truthfully.
“And what do you do with these vendors?
“Negotiate.”
His green eyes locked on hers with an unreadable expression. Then a slow crooked grin began growing on his face. “Spoken like a true businesswoman.”
“How’s that?”
“With little to no detail.”
* * *
Elle was by no means ashamed of who she was or what she did for a living. Not in the least. She’d had a successful career that in no way would ever make her a millionaire, but she enjoyed her job. She enjoyed working a color palate and running with not-your-everyday themes just as much as anyone else in the business. The last-minute changes that sent everyone into hysterics while she problem solved—that was getting closer to why she went into the business.
Not just the typical “florist is late” and the “bakery delivered the wrong cake” kind of problems. Elle had a reputation of making miracles happen. There was a solution for nearly every scenario. And when there wasn’t; that was when Elle had the most fun—getting super creative when shit went wrong.
Her old boss once joked; “I’d love to see what you’d do in runaway bride situation,” Clearly implying if she’d go as far as taking her place.
Needless to say, and considering Elle was single with no children; her career was everything.
And now...him.
She huffed out a short laugh. She hated to admit she enjoyed their encounters—all of them. The last three days. In a row. She couldn’t even remember the last time she saw a man that often that she was dating. Much less, someone she should no doubt stay away from.
Even though she teased him about it, there was nothing heartless about the man; at least not when he smiled. And he had a show-stopping smile— the kind that made a woman focus on it and stop breathing for a good seven seconds while everything else became hazy. His voice was smooth and always seemed game for anything she threw his way. Did she really call him Superman?
She shook her head and rubbed her eyelids.
Charming to all hell…and not meant for you.
Someone snapped their fingers near Elle’s desk making her jump.
“I’m sorry hun, didn’t mean to startle you.” Bobby didn’t sound apologetic at all.
“There’s a team meeting in the main conference room. Five minutes.”
Elle clicked to her calendar. “I don’t remember seeing…”
“Just popped up. Starr asked me to make the rounds—make sure everyone’s aware and can accommodate.” He looked her up and down. “Good thing you got back from your extended lunch break in time,” he sneered and sauntered off.
What was that supposed to mean? Elle never had to justify her lunch breaks before to anyone. Least of all, a co-worker who was by no means someone she reported to.
Elle stepped in moments later to the elongated conference room. The room held a shiny wooden table and was surrounded by about a dozen black leather chairs. All of which had already been occupied. Elle lined herself against the back wall along with a few other firm employees. The chatter quieted almost instantly when Starr and Dean walked into the room a moment after.
“Thank you all for meeting on short notice. We appreciate you—” Dean started.
Mimi
hurried in and muttered a quick apology as Starr shot her a look.
Dean clapped his hand once. “I believe that’s just about everyone, now. Let’s just get started. As you all know, Starr-Levy Events has been moving up to be well known and respected for the services we offer to non-profit organizations and charity events—at cost.” He glanced at Starr. “That said, it is important we remember that it is not all we are. Our organizational reputation for corporate and social events is just as important to maintain.” Dean paused for a deep breath. “Starr and I noticed that over the last two years, nearly sixty percent of our staff—yes, you guys—picked up solely non-profit charity events during the holiday season.”
Either Elle was imagining it, or at that moment, approximately sixty percent of the room shifted and glanced around the room.
Starr took a step forward. “As grateful as we are to your commitment to prioritizing these charities that depend on us—it is unacceptable to make them your only focus during the holiday season,” she added. “We have been losing hundreds of projects for large-scale events because we’re just not making them a priority.”
“Well, that is changing this year,” Dean stepped in again. “In order for us to continue doing well and helping charities run their events at little to no cost, we need to back up our revenue. So, starting November, when the calls start coming in, unless you have a profitable corporate or social event project, you are strictly prohibited from accepting any non-profit events until January.”
One of the staff that Elle remembered as Brian called out. “So what are we supposed to do when they call us to plan their event again this year? Returning customers is another thing the firm takes pride in, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, like the Children’s Hospital Santa Party,” the blond sitting next to him called out.
“Or Hillard’s gift wrapping bash?”
Dean held his hands up. “No one will get turned away. You will forward the request to either myself or Starr and we will assign it accordingly. Look we’re not trying to take annual events away from you,” he glanced at Starr again, “we’re just aware that these non-profits are very easy to get, especially in December, therefore we haven’t been working as hard to get those profitable ones on our calendar. And that is where we need our focus to be this season.”
A few more simultaneous call outs and mumbled chatter began before Starr appeared to become frustrated and spoke. “If anyone has a problem they’d like to bring up, then maybe we can separately discuss if this is the right place for you.”
Silence instantly filled the room. Finally, Dean thanked everyone and promised a follow up meeting in the weeks to come.
Elle walked back to her desk. A few folks had gathered around cubicles, whispering away. She sat at her desk for barely a second before seeing Starr stride into the elevator with her coat.
It was rare for Dean to be in his office alone. And given his recent speech, she needed to have a few words with her new boss. His demands were little concern to her since Elle never had a problem landing a deal. But something was up that he wasn’t sharing. And that was a major concern.
Before even giving herself a moment to think about how to approach this, she was at his door. “Dean?”
His elbow was resting on his desk and he rubbed his forehead before looking up. “Elle, not a good time,” he mumbled.
She didn’t assume it was. But to hell if that was going to stop her. His firm was clearly facing a downturn and after what she’d just been through with Brightman, she was supposed to just ignore that? “You know, Dean,” she started after letting herself into the office and closing the door behind her. “I wish I could have said ‘not a good time’ when I lost my job before reaching retirement, but life doesn’t always work that way.” She shrugged with palms pointed up, and gave a polite grin.
For a moment, Dean seemed as though he was going to throw her the I don’t know what you’re talking about card. But when Elle shot him her cold stare that she knew Dean remembered from when they argued over the Conrad, he blew out a strong breath and stood.
His eyes flashed outside the glass walls just before he pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
Elle didn’t intend on having a full sit-down discussion, but followed his instruction regardless.
Dean sat back down and started shuffling paper on his desk, frowning at them and mumbling. “I’m making it look like we’re discussing a project, so please play along.” He shot her a look and then pointedly glanced outside his glassed-in office where certain staff members may be prone to notice a non-work-related conversation.
“Elle, I know how Brightman used to operate. His entire staff had a quota. And not just on the jobs his staff pitched and accepted, but in the ones he made them turn down. He focused on being the lead in the industry by turning down mediocre parties to free up his talented staff for the high profile events. He was a man who cared more about the name he made for himself rather than the numbers.”
Elle raised her brows. “I guess that would be an accurate description of Ron, yes.”
“Well we don’t work that way here. We don’t have quotas, we accept every job no matter how small, and while Starr and I may not have the money to throw away on advertising like Brightman did, we’ve done everything we could to get to the third best in the city.” he paused and took a breath. “I want you to know that none of what I said in there affects you. Your capacity is highly valued here, and while no one else might appreciate your history here, I do.”
“Thanks but I’m not concerned about what I’m able to bring; I’m more curious about what you think you’re accomplishing by changing expectations on your team and not giving them a reason why.”
He sat back in his chair; clearly not expecting to be challenged. He glared at her as though she were an intern implying she should be put up for vice president. “Your concern is appreciated,” he finally stated. “If there’s nothing else, I need to prepare for a meeting.” He straitened in his chair, adjusting his jacket.
She stood, accepting her current position and walked out.
Chapter 10
Scott
“I have to hand it to you, Weston, I thought you’d bail on Levy—what’s her name’s thing by now. But you’re darn set on bailing them out instead,” Donovan said that Friday afternoon at the Smith’s Hotel bar around the corner from Hayes Enterprises. It was an end of the week ritual for them ever since Scott became a senior executive at H.E. Mainly it was Hayes’ way of winding down and talking about the week’s biggest wins and deals. And it was something they continued after Scott left the firm.
“I like what they stand for.”
“What they stand for isn’t making them money. And it’ll make you lose yours.”
“I’m not putting that much in.
“It’s not nothing. It’s a waste.”
“Thought they’d win you over after Elaine’s party.”
Donovan sneered. “Oh yeah, blowing up some balloons and calling a caterer is nothing short of impossible. And they came through without a hitch!” Donovan pointed a mocking finger at him.
Scott rolled his eyes and glanced at his old boss’s glass. Still about a third full, which meant another good half hour of enduring the guy’s cynical and interfering ways. Scott did well on his own, but Donovan had been the best mentor and gave him opportunities, saw the best in him and valued his opinion. The guy never had kids but treated Scott like his own.
“You’re on your own next time you need a favor.” Scott stirred his glass before taking a sip.
“I did you a favor! You wanted to test the waters and I happened to have a time sensitive matter.”
Scott was silent for a moment, then caved. “Did you know everyone at the party?”
Donovan’s amused eyes watched him. The ones Scott hated when he gave away more then he intended. “Mostly,” Donovan replied simply. Scott inhaled but didn’t say anymore. “Curious about a certain dame in a black lace dress?�
�
“You know her?”
“Look Elaine cohorts with a handful of females from the club, she doesn’t really do much else, so I had to fill the ballroom. I asked Kat to pull some business contacts and invite them to the social gathering. Served two purposes.” Donovan weighed out his hands. He always looked to see how things would help his business and was quick to eliminate everything that didn’t. A quality Scott admired and inherited after ten years of working for the guy.
Scott shook his head. “No, she had to be a friend of Elaine’s.”
Donovan chuckled. “She was no friend of Elaine’s.”
“She had to be, I think I saw her leave a note by her chair before she left.”
Donovan jerked back. “What’s gotten into you? We never talk about women when we’re drinking.”
I never talk about women at all.
Scott licked his lips, irritated.
Donovan must have caught it. “Alright look, she was probably involved in one of my transactions in some way at some point,” he shrugged and then his eyes drifted.
“What?”
“Woulda thought I’d remember someone like her.”
Scott snickered and stared at the rocks glass in his hand. It had been a long week—and three days since he’d last seen her. Her long dark hair, full rosy lips with a hypnotic smile that crept into his head much more than he cared for. She had once again refused to give him a phone number, a last name or what she did for a living. It was cool. She was different. She valued her privacy. Most importantly, she wasn’t clingy with expectations.
She had agreed to meet him again Saturday night. This time, a date was definitely implied. And he intended to find out much more about the only woman he couldn't stop thinking about.
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