Where are you? Photographer’s here, as is Nick. Just waiting on you.
Wait. What? I have to read Zack’s text again to be sure I’m not imagining things. Is this a bad dream? No way is he texting me with this right now. It’s like I’m having a nightmare where I’m back at school and someone is telling me I’ve missed a big exam I’ve been cramming for has come and gone. I still have those ‘slept right through it all’ nightmares to this day.
But…no such luck this morning. I’m most definitely awake, and he’s most definitely telling me that I’m in bed while he’s waiting on me at the property. With our seller.
I can’t text him back when it’s something as important as this.
He answers on the first ring. “Well? Where are you?”
“I don’t understand,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can while I race through the bedroom at breakneck speed, the phone on speaker so I can talk and prepare. “You told me you would set this up for the afternoon.”
A pause. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you most certainly did,” I hiss as I run a brush through my hair. “You said it would be this afternoon. You were going to call the photographer yet and set it up for the afternoon.”
“You must have misheard,” he retorts. “Anyway, don’t sweat it if you can’t be here for this. I’ll take care of it.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” I assure him, sliding into a dress and zipping as I jam my feet into pumps. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Another pause—longer, this time. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. See you then.” The moment I’m certain the call is over and he can’t hear, I let loose a string of curses the likes of which haven’t left my mouth since the last time I got good and drunk after losing a big deal. That son of a bitch. Who does he think he’s playing with?
It’s a ten-minute drive on a good day in light traffic. I make it in seven, pulling to a stop in front of the magnificent lakefront estate with a tight smile for Zack, who’s waiting for me out front.
“That was a quick drive. You couldn’t have been very far away,” he comments, looking as cool and suave as ever. A wayward breeze plays at his hair and he reaches up to swipe it away from his sparkling eyes.
Damn him. He looks just as alluring as he did at dinner last night. Maybe even more. And I thought it was just the lights and the wine. I quickly avert my gaze from his and close the car door without slamming it. I take a deep breath then let him have it, “What’s the game here, Zack?” I ask in a tight whisper as I stalk up to him.
“What do you mean, game?” Oh, his eyes are so wide and innocent.
I wonder how one of them would look after I punch it. He might have a good half-foot on me even when I’m wearing heels, but I’ve been taking kickboxing classes for years and would love the opportunity to practice on him. “I mean I know for certain that we talked about doing this in the afternoon. You said you hadn’t even called him yet last night, for Christ’s sake.” I narrow my eyes. “Either you set this up before last night or you pulled some strings to get it arranged so fast.”
He crosses his arms. “I pulled some strings.”
“You could’ve called or texted to let me know,” I say, not fully convinced that he was telling the truth.
“I told you at dinner it would be first thing this morning. I’m sorry if a glass of wine makes you a little forgetful.” He shrugs, unable to keep a tiny little smirk at bay.
Forget giving him a black eye. I’m gonna rip his throat out.
He’s saved by the opening of the door and the appearance of none other than Nick McCann, looking every bit as disheveled and absent-minded as he does during interviews and appearances. It’s his shtick, I guess, but I’ve never been able to decide if he’s cute or not. He’s just got one of those laid back personalities that I’m sure would drive me crazy after a week.
He comes out with one hand extended, an almost apologetic smile on his offbeat face. “Sorry for the confusion,” he says. “Your man here tells me there was a misunderstanding?”
“We’re not together,” we announce simultaneously.
Nick smiles slowly.
Now it takes all the self-control in my body to keep from blushing and looking away. Boy, we must really come off as amateurs.
I take a deep breath. So Zack thinks he’s charming? Well, he’s never seen me in action. I flash Nick my widest, most ingratiating smile while returning his handshake with a firm, no-nonsense grip of my own. I can tell from the way his eyebrows quirk up that he didn’t expect it.
“Why don’t you show me around this magnificent place?” I ask. “What a pleasure it is, helping put an estate like this on the market.”
“Oh, yes?” he asks, leading the way with a sweep of his arm.
“Please?” I giggle, sweeping my hair over one shoulder as we walk, not bothering to throw a glance Zack’s way. “A showplace such as this will practically sell itself. No sweat.”
Sienna
I wonder how Rodney will feel about me killing Zack and disposing of his body in a vat of acid. He’s probably the only one who would care. No way this idiot has anybody who loves him.
At least we got the pictures and dimensions of every room, which took a long while considering the number of rooms involved, but it gave me a chance to work on Nick. By the time I finished, he was suitably impressed with my system for taking measurements, the laser I used to capture the room’s dimensions and the program which I fed the information into that automatically created a layout on my tablet.
It becomes clear Zack is fuming no matter how hard he works at hiding it.
Nick might have been fooled, but not me. I’ve seen that expression on his face before. Like he’s eaten something he wishes he hadn’t. Still, better whatever it was than my fist, which is what he almost ate after pulling such a nasty trick on me.
It backfired, since I’m only more determined than ever to cozy up to Nick and earn his trust.
Now he knows who he’s dealing with.
“I’ll write up the listing,” I announce as I stride into my cubicle, not bothering to wait for his reply before closing the door. I got the last word. That counts for something, and it also means I don’t have to rely on him for anything, since I know I can’t trust him.
Besides, it means I don’t have to give him the satisfaction of working on it with me.
I’ve been in the game for nearly five solid years now, and I’ve never been one to rely on an assistant to help me prepare something so critical to the success of a property. All the normal buzzwords run through my head as I get to work. Spacious, luxury, breathtaking, sweeping views.
When my phone goes off, I’m almost certain without looking over that it’s Zack calling, trying to mess with my flow, but it’s not. I smile the first real, genuine smile of the day when I see my sister’s name on the screen. “Tami, you know I don’t usually have time to take calls at work,” I say with a little chuckle.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gushes breathlessly, completely sarcastic. “I forgot I’m only allowed to call during the three-point-four minutes per day you’re not actually working.”
“Whoa, whoa.” I laugh. “It’s at least five-and-a-half, exaggerator. What’s up?”
Her heavy sigh tells me it’s exactly what I thought it would be. I’m used to these calls, which come around once or twice a week now. When she first got engaged, it was more like once every two weeks. I’m sure that by the time the big day comes along, she’ll be calling on the hour.
“I did try not to call you, but I’m so freaking stressed about the flowers. Do you think the florist will be able to get their hands on enough hydrangeas, what with this unseasonably cool weather?”
It’s always best to take a calm, reasonable approach with her when she gets this way. I keep my voice low and soothing, just the way she needs it to be. “I’m sure they’ll be able to handle it,” I murmur, sitting back in my chair with my eyes closed. I need a brief break from t
he stress in my life right now, anyway. And for some strange reason, soothing my sister actually soothes me too.
“You think so?”
“Sweetheart, any florist worth the money is going to have backup vendors in place. I’m sure they can call in reinforcements if there are any issues with quantity, or even quality. We researched for a solid month before deciding on these girls, and I’ve still heard nothing but rave reviews about them since then.”
“You mean it?” She sounds hopeful again.
“Of course. I keep my eyes open for stuff like this. You know I do. It’s the Maid of Honor’s responsibility, isn’t it?”
“You’re right. I should know better by now than to second-guess you.” Her tone brightens instantly.
I have to wonder if she wakes up every morning with another random worry sitting at the forefront of her thoughts. If that’s the case, it’s a miracle she’s managed to hold on to her sanity for this long—and that’s saying something, because she’s driving herself crazy, examining every possible thing that could go wrong.
Is this really what getting married is like, I’m glad to be single.
Then again, Tami’s always been on the high-strung side, while I’m practical and level-headed. Maybe something like a wedding just brings out a bride’s personality, or maybe every bride goes a bit crazy over what we’re told from the time we’re little girls is the ‘Biggest, Best Day Of Our Life.’
Once she’s away from the ledge and feeling better, I hang up and get back to the listing. I wasn’t making it up when I told Nick a home like his could sell itself. The location, right there on the lake. The sheer size. The wide-open feeling of it, each room flowing into the next. The massive wine cellar, the media room with its theater seating, surround sound and wall-sized screen. The library, which Nick currently uses as a music room, but could easily become an office or even a family room. A dining room that can seat thirty with no problem.
It’s a showplace, a jewel.
On the other hand, it’s perfect for a wealthy family too. There’s a chef’s kitchen with an intimate little breakfast nook. Smaller bedrooms just perfect for children, with a separate bathroom for each. Lots of room outdoors to run and play, and a dock which leads out to the water. I can imagine a sailboat tied off there, waiting for a family to take it out on a beautiful day. No matter who the buyer is, no matter their lifestyle, they’ll find what they’re looking for in that house.
I put it all in the listing and then some. After a solid hour of tinkering with it, I sit back, happy with the finished product. A very tiny, miniscule part of me wonders if I’m doing the right thing by not running this past Zack before posting it on our website, but I quickly remind myself there’s no doubt that he would do it to me in a heartbeat.
Look how he tried to muscle me out of the meeting with Nick today.
I click the “Publish” button with relish.
Now that the listing is live, I can start making phone calls. I can’t help but notice the way my heart races a little, as I start going through my contacts and the latest notes I’ve made on each of them. This is the part I like best ‒ pairing a contact with the home I know is perfect for them ‒ knowing I was right when things line up and I close the deal.
My eyes widen when I come to Mark’s name. Hmm. Is it worth giving him a call? I know he’s always claimed to be in the market for a high worth lakeside home. He could afford it. And this is probably the most highly-coveted location in the area.
It’s worth a try, but is it worth opening a can of worms over?
I chew my lip, tapping my fingers on the desk, questioning myself. It’s been over a year since we broke up, maybe longer than that. I didn’t exactly circle the date in red on my calendar. Can I handle hanging out with Mark?
Certainly. He’s a good guy, we always got along and it’s not as if we ended things bitterly, either. It just didn’t work out. No big surprise, one of the major issues had to do with my work habits. He wanted a woman who would jump when he snapped his fingers, who’d drop everything for him and I couldn’t be that person. All it did was cause us both grief, until I did the decent thing and ended it.
It was over well before that, though and with time, he should have seen that too.
Who knows? He might actually be glad to hear from me. Stranger things have happened. I haven’t heard anything about him being involved with another woman yet, either, but that has nothing to do with this. My fingers are already on the dial buttons. Strangely, I still remember his number by heart.
He sounds surprised to hear from me, but not unhappy. “What a surprise! What have you been up to?” he asks before chuckling. “Wait, let me guess. You’ve been working.”
I dig the nails of one hand into my palm and force a chuckle of my own. What’s he going to say when he finds out that this call is about that very thing? “Wow. You know me too well.”
“I’m waiting for the day when you tell me there’s something more than that going on in your life, beautiful.” He sounds kind and warm, like a friend. No judgment.
“It’s funny you should mention work…”
“Uh-oh.”
“No, this is a good thing. I just had a new property land in my lap and I thought of you.” I can’t help but feel another twinge of conscience on delivering this line, but I remind myself again, that Zack would do this to me in a heartbeat. If anything, it’ll serve him right.
The fact is, if I make this sale to one of my contacts, everyone will know I was the one responsible. The same would be true if it was one of Zack’s friends, or exes. Not that I would expect him to have an ex-girlfriend. That would mean first finding a woman who could put up with him, which I can’t imagine.
I have to get this sale. For me. Just to prove myself, if nothing else.
We decide on dinner later in the evening, and a private tour of the house afterward. Nick’s officially moved out now, so there’s no reason why we shouldn’t take a look.
Without Zack knowing.
We’ll see how he likes it.
Sienna
“You are going to lose your mind over this place,” I promise as I unlock the door.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Absolutely. I saw the kitchen and immediately thought about you making brunch at the stove. I still remember those crepes you made that one day.”
“Definitely the peak of my brunch career.” He chuckles as we step into the two-story foyer with its marble floors and sweeping double staircase that meets in the center at a balcony which overlooks the space, then extends into a hallway in both directions.
That, and the terrible, awful, nauseating stench.
“Oh, my God,” I groan, throwing my hands over my nose and mouth. The grilled chicken salad I just enjoyed for dinner threatens to come back up for a second visit.
“What the hell is that?” Mark chokes, waving his hands in front of his face as though that will do anything to clear the air.
“I have no idea,” I reply before gagging. “Oh, lord, it’s terrible. I swear, it didn’t smell anything like this earlier today. I was literally just here this morning for photos and everything was fine.” I immediately rush to the kitchen, thinking the drain backed up.
“What about the bathrooms?” Mark asks, referencing the obvious nature of the smell.
I unlock the French doors and slide them wide open. I swear, I’ll die if it’s the toilets. How are we supposed to sell a home with crappy plumbing, no pun intended? “Hang out here and enjoy the view while I figure out what is going on.”
“Nah, I’ll help you look,” Mark says joining me on the terrace.
Once I confirm it isn’t the kitchen or garbage disposal, I take a chance on one of the first-floor bathrooms. Then another. Both of them appear to be fine, but the stench hasn’t dissipated any.
“I’ll open some windows,” Mark offers, going to the first set he finds and flinging them open.
The fresh air helps, but not enough.
“This is s
o embarrassing,” I mutter as I go from room to room, my hand still over my mouth and nose. It’s not helping. What the heck happened here? Whatever it was, it happened fast. “I’m sorry. I would never have brought you here if I had any idea, obviously.”
“Hey, things happen.” He sounds way too relaxed, considering the situation we’re in. Then again, it’s not his listing on the line here. He can afford to be chill, to follow me from room to room, as I search in vain for the source of the stench.
Thank God, it doesn’t seem to be coming from any of the bathrooms. They’re all immaculate. The smell seems to be clearing up thanks to the open windows. After running the entire length and breadth of the house in a pair of four-inch heels, I’m exhausted, but not beaten.
“Well, here she is,” I say with bright laugh, spreading my arms open when we’re back in the foyer. “A bit of a quick tour, I admit, but you got a look at every single room.”
“Bathrooms included.” His brown eyes sparkle with good-natured laughter as he turns in a slow circle, looking up at the chandelier hanging in the center of the foyer. “And I have to admit, it’s spectacular, Sienna. It’s funny that you should remember how much I’ve always wanted to own a home out here.”
I grin. “That’s my job, remembering things like that.”
He looks at me, frowning a little. “Funny. I was hoping you’d say you remembered because I said it.”
“Oh, Mark…” To my horror, I start to blush. It’s like we’re reliving all those old memories, all the times he made me feel like I was coming up short because I didn’t take something the way he wanted me to. And I did come up short, I’m fully aware. I wasn’t the girlfriend he wanted or deserved. But that doesn’t mean I need a guilt trip down Memory Lane.
He holds up his hands, feigning surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t help it.”
“You know how rotten I feel about what happened.”
Accidental Rivals_An Office Romance Page 3