Who was she to basically tell him his business strategies were immoral?
And the only reason he couldn’t stop thinking about her was because of the callous way he departed from their lunch date. It was out of character for him. That was the only reason he called her that morning—to apologize. But she hadn’t answered, and it was probably for the best.
Scott stood and paced the length of the office. He’d never met a woman like her before and if she got in his head in a matter of minutes, then seeing her anymore would be sheer suicide to everything he’d built himself up to become.
Kat peered into the office. “Mr. Weston, you asked me to remind you when it was almost eleven.”
Scott quickly glanced at his watch as he sat back down. “Thanks, Kat. Please let me know when Starr from Starr-Levy Events gets here. Oh and before you send her in here, please ask her if she has new plans for me to review. Otherwise, reschedule with a location TBD.”
“Noted.” She began to slip behind the door.
“Kat,” he called.
She instantly appeared in full view again.
He rubbed his forehead. “What do you women expect men to do when they screw up?”
Kat seemed taken aback by the question. “Um…I…”
“Like say a guy did something that was messed up…you don’t respond to his messages. So, what do you expect him to do? I mean I know there’s that whole sending flowers to your office thing…”
“Um, sure maybe ten years ago…” Kat said honestly. “But the modern-day woman prefers something more…I don’t know…creative, I guess.”
He stared at her. “Creative,” he repeated.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “There isn’t one solution really. It depends on who this woman is. How you met, details you know about her. What kind of things she likes or appreciates.”
“Thanks that’s really helpful.” It might have been the biggest lie he told all week.
“Of course.” Kat didn’t seem so sure she believed him anyway, so at least he didn’t feel that bad.
His cell phone vibrated and his eyes darted to the screen. A pang of disappointment followed by anger hit him just before he answered.
“Hello Claudia.”
“I’m sending you a budget for the planners. This number should take into account all expenses and the fee,” Claudia stated firmly.
“I take it you’re accepting our terms,” Scott leaned back in his chair.
“I’m still negotiating the spot they can have on the floor.”
“Excellent. Let me know when that’s confirmed, and Don and I will start working on our end.”
“Scott, we’re running out of time,” Claudia urged.
“Not when it comes to Dean’s team. They’ve already proven that. I gotta run, call me when their spot is confirmed.”
“They can have the centerpiece spot.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I’ll let them know and we’ll be in touch.” He hung up and called Kat to let her know to have Starr come in regardless.
Chapter 18
Elle
“That’s a pretty lengthy agenda you’re working on there, newbie,” Mimi joked that Friday afternoon.
“Oh, this?” Elle laughed at her computer screen. “I don’t intend on discussing half this shit. This agenda for Monday’s meeting is purely to piss off a certain cocky and feckless individual. I mostly want to focus on pitching and see what’s been working for everyone and what hasn’t. And then if there’s time, how to juggle multiple projects efficiently.” Elle shrugged and turned back to her screen. She could feel Mimi still watching her.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Mimi began cautiously. “You have quite the reputation for being one of the top planners in the city. You clearly know what you’re doing and could probably run a place like this.”
Elle swallowed. She knew where this was going.
“Why did you end up taking this job?”
The answer to that was something Elle still hadn’t been able to understand—or admit to herself. Char thought it was her eagerness to get a job instead of looking for something more managerial.
“I just want to do what I do best,” she replied.
Rather than prove my mother right when the woman warned me to play it safe while living out on my own in a big city.
Her phone vibrated loudly on the hard surface and her heart skipped a beat. She reached for it and swiped to see a new message from Char saying she was in the neighborhood and wanted to take her for coffee nearby. Elle was always up for a few minutes with her friend, but her shoulders sank regardless.
Get over it Elle, it’s for the best.
They came from two different worlds. And his dumping her in the middle of a pre-lunch cocktail proved that he was no better than her exes. Just with more money and social status.
“Everything okay?”
Elle turned back to her colleague. “Yeah, I’m just going to call it a day a half hour early.”
Her computer pinged and she looked down to see an instant message from Dean asking her to stop by his office.
Terrific. He avoids her most of the week and now when she’s about to head out, he wants to chat?
“What’s up?” she pushed open Dean’s door, meaning to come off a little more polite but probably failed.
He stood holding up the folder she handed him the other day. “You said you weren’t interested in any of these, is that right?”
“Nope, they’re all yours. I’ll find something else.”
“Something bigger?” Dean walked around his desk and approached Elle.
“Exactly.”
“How about Empire Fashions year-end wrap up?”
“Empire Fashions?” Elle’s interest was most certainly piqued. “A handful of my old colleagues worked with them during fashion week, but they’ve never held a year-end wrap up.”
“Empire’s CEO is hosting a gala-style fashion show at the end of the year. They plan to showcase their biggest designers and are promising sneak-peeks. They don’t have a name for it yet, Starr was only able to get a few details but it’s looking like the guest list is expected to be close to three hundred. The who’s who in the industry are expected; designers, models, buyers, producers, celebrities, and of course the media.”
Elle’s mouth dropped. “This would have been huge even for Brightman,” she breathed, then narrowed her eyes at him. “How’d you get this?”
Dean watched her and arched an eyebrow.
“Starr had a meeting this morning with...an old friend with connections. The details are still being ironed out and I believe we’re even being given a promo spot on the floor. But I wanted to give you a head start to begin planning Elle,” he said. “I think there’s no question who I’m giving this—”
“I’ll take it,” Elle interjected. Finally there was something worth her time; something worth getting excited about.
“Not alone. You’ll need help.”
She let out a huff. “Dean you know I work alone. I don’t have time to babysit an assistant.”
“This one is too big for one person and we can’t afford any mistakes. Mimi will assist.”
Well, if anyone… “Alright,” she lifted her head and walked to the door. “Let’s catch up when you have details.”
* * *
“There’s nothing to tell,” Elle insisted as they crossed the intersection on the way to Blue Reserves.
“So he hasn’t called?” Char asked.
“He called once.”
“Huh.”
“He’s not the blow up your phone kinda guy,” Elle shrugged.
“No, I guess he wouldn’t be.”
“Could we not talk about him anymore? You were the one who told me I should be honest. I couldn’t do it. And it no longer matters. I’m moving on. What are you doing on this side of town anyway?”
Char narrowed her eyes. “I said you should be careful. There’s a difference.” Char paused, then shrugged.
“Anyway it’s Friday. Thought we’d get some dinner or happy hour or something.”
“It’s a good idea. I’m happy to see you.” Elle muttered. “But I’m pretty sure at some point you compared my situation to a roasted fish,” she laughed as they entered café.
Char snorted as they got on line. “Okay, you did not get my crusted salmon analogy. And it had nothing to do with your billionaire.”
The woman behind the counter handed the customer in front of Elle back his card and then turned to Elle. The young woman’s features immediately brightened as if she’d recognized her from last week. “Oh, hello. Thank you for coming by again. Will you be having the Censored again today?”
“Um...yes, thank you.” Elle glanced at Char, who looked at her questioningly.
“Of course, and for you?” she asked Char, who rattled off a pretty specific order given she’d only had thirty seconds to look at the menu.
Char leaned in to her. “So, you come here often?”
Elle shrugged. “Just once, I guess they really know their clientele.” She pulled out her wallet.
“You’re all set,” the barista said as she bent behind the counter and pulled out a cellophane wrapped insulated coffee mug with a small envelope attached. “Your coffees are on us today, and Mr. Weston left this for you earlier. Come back with this tumbler anytime and we’ll fill it with a beverage of your choice at no charge,” the young woman perked.
“Um...” Elle stood frozen and stared at the wrapped gift.
“Your drinks will be ready at the end of the bar. Enjoy the rest of your day.” She turned to the next customer while Char grabbed the tumbler and guided her away from the register.
“Thank you very much,” Char called to the barista and then led Elle to the end of the bar. “I’ll wait here for our drinks, and then you can tell me what just happened,” she said in an excited whisper.
What did just happen?
Elle quickly scanned the place then pulled the sealed note from her unexpected package and stepped aside to a bar table.
“Most of the time, superheroes are arrogant, dismissive, and always think they know best! But more importantly, they learn a valuable lesson at the end…”
Dearest Isabel,
I might be living proof of this Hollywood formula theory you have. I made a rash decision (or two) and have come to learn something others knew all along.
I hope you’ll give me another chance to take you to lunch. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at Willow Park off Fifth Avenue at noon.
Your hopeful date for tomorrow,
Scott.
Elle tried not to be charmed by the note and placed it down.
Char approached with the drinks, setting them at the table. “Okay so what was that?”
“This was the cafe where I ran into Scott the day after the party.”
“Oh. Wait a second. That doesn’t explain how he could just buy you a lifetime of coffee. I didn’t even know that was a thing.”
“It’s not. He said he knew the owner.”
Char glanced down. “What’s the note say?”
Elle shrugged at it. “It’s only a note. It doesn’t change reality. He just proved we’re not compatible. I had no business interfering with his and pointing out his flaws. He’s clearly done just fine without my advice.”
“You don’t need to be a billionaire to know how to run a business, Elle.”
She knew that much. Elle gazed out the window. “I think people like Scott just don’t even consider a work-around for layoffs, there are other ways. Although, I don’t know, I think Starr-Levy Events could definitely benefit from a few less unproductive employees.” Elle shook her head and turned back to Char, noticing her reading the note. “Hey.”
“Wow,” Char’s jaw dropped and she turned a hard glare at Elle. “You read that note again then tell me you still never want to see him again.”
“You don’t understand. I had a really good time with him on our date last week. I can’t see him again,” Elle grasped her friend’s hand, hoping she understood.
Char frowned for a fleeting second as if she had a thought that never occurred to her, then her expression turned neutral. “You’re right,” she sat back in her chair and threw her arms up in the air. “You should just stay home tomorrow. Maybe look for a job that might be more fitting for you, because let’s face it, Elle, people change and their current careers don’t always fit. Then you could turn on one of your silly romantic comedies and go to bed feeling sad and alone after watching a happy ending…” Char sat up with more life to her. “Or you could go and live yours.”
Elle’s heart ached. Not because of the possibility of living out her own, but because of just how impossible it was.
She sat up. “I plan on living mine out. I do. But not with Scott.
“Who cares about your social status and what you do for a living. You guys are into each other. Stop hiding behind a job you’re not even sure you want. Tomorrow night; you’re going to Willow Park.
Elle nodded reluctantly. “And I’ll tell him the truth and be done with it.”
Char grinned and nodded. “Sure. Totally done. End of story.”
Chapter 19
Scott
He showed up at Willow Park a little early on Saturday afternoon. He couldn’t remember the last time he waited for a woman, much less wondering if she was going to show up. Midtown was particularly busy that afternoon. With the weather being sixty degrees on the last day in October, it didn’t surprise him. He climbed the short steps up into the raised park and removed his sunglasses, taking a glance around. She wouldn’t be hard to spot, even here.
He hadn’t considered what he would say to her about running off the other day. Blowing it off like he would with anyone else wouldn’t work. Not with Isabel. Every time she looked at him, it was as though she were analyzing him, but never scrutinizing. As though she were dissecting her own presumptions and figuring him out.
Now it was time to figure her out.
And she’d be here. Anne from Blue Reserves was one of the few he trusted at the establishment. Only she would remember the woman he was there with the week before. She would make it a professional and seamless delivery, without calling attention to it.
Isabel hated too much attention. That much, he could tell.
So when Anne called him moments later to let him know that it was done and from her point of view, well received, he was relieved. Now all he had to do was wait. He wouldn’t call again. Or text to make sure she’d come. No. He needed her to know that he’d be waiting regardless. He let his ego get the better of him the other day and he never did that.
Isabel was certainly refreshing and at the same time terrifying.
As if feeling her presence, he turned and found her at the top of the steps just a few yards from where he stood. She was watching him. With a majority of the trees close to bareness, the sun shined unevenly in her pathway as she hesitantly approached him. A smile fell easily off his lips and he walked to meet her half way.
“Too late,” he said, finally reaching her.
Her shoulders released and she turned up an eyebrow. “Don’t be so sure of yourself, my back up plan is supposed to call me within thirty minutes.”
He let out a breath. “Okay, that was a terrible ice breaker. I’m going to try again.” He exaggerated a deep breath. “I am exceedingly sorry for lunch the other day. I clearly do not take well to criticism from people I like,” he narrowed his eyes at her. “Or are trying more than usual, to impress,” he stated honestly. “So thank you for meeting me once again for a lunch date.”
Isabel broke from his stare and walked ahead of him. “Of course, but could we keep it light?” She glanced back, “I had a burger before I came in case you bailed again.” She pursed her lips to keep from laughing.
He looked down half ashamed and half laughing at her candidness.
“It’s really okay,” she offered when he caught up to her.
He wrapped
a hand around her arm and pulled her to face him, her eyes still smiling. “Isabel,” he started, “I want you to know that you can trust me. I imagine that it’s unsettling when someone you just started seeing is easily pushed away by a simple comment, but I’m glad that you’re here and giving me another chance to be…”
“The hero?” she joked and pulled him along. Clearly the apology was making her uncomfortable.
They walked through the park. He stopped in front of the restaurant and looked at her. “I hope you were kidding about that burger. This place has an exquisite menu. You have to come hungry.”
“Exquisite huh? I’ll save any more comments about you until the end of the meal.”
He held open the door for her. “To be on the safe side,” he agreed and winked at her.
The restaurant was very popular that Saturday. Luckily, they wouldn’t be dealing with the crowd. “Right this way, Sir.”
Scott took her hand and followed the host. They made their way to the back and up the stairs where the noise finally quieted. The upstairs was clean and empty, save for a few table clothed large round tables and chairs. The rooftop section of the restaurant had a wooden plank ceiling, with plants and tree lights raked through.
“Um... I’m sorry, doesn’t the rooftop close in late September for the winter?” Isabel asked the host, who glanced at Scott.
He then turned his head to her and simply answered, “Yes, it is ma’am. Please, right this way.” The host seated them at a single small table against the far end of the roof near the double railing. The heat lamps he’d requested may have been unnecessary given that it was still fairly nice out on that last day in October. Once the host left them alone, he broke the silence. “So how often do you come here?”
“Here? Not often at all. Why?”
“You seem to be well versed in their seasonal rooftop schedule.”
She laughed and waved an arm. “Oh that’s most New York City restaurants. But no not often. Maybe twice.”
“Well yes, they do close in September. But I wanted a private quiet setting with a spectacular view. And my apartment might have been too forward so this was the next best thing.”
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