Broken Headboards: Nights In New York Series Book 3

by Starr, Tara

  Judging by the excitement on Ashley’s voice, I thought that the Clarendon Tower conference room would be completely packed, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

  Aside from me and the five remaining members of the board, I only count nine people. Sitting on the side, I see Ashley—who gives me a quick wink the moment she sees me walk in—and Taylor.

  Are these two an item now? I can never tell.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, looking straight at the board members as everyone falls silent. I take one of the seats at the back and rest the purse at my feet, glancing at the other members in attendance.

  One of them I recognize immediately—Austin Randall.

  Asshole galore and one of my direct competitors, he’s the owner of Oakmont, a company that has caused me so many freaking headaches that I instinctively reach for my purse to get an aspirin. Swear to God, if Oakmont wasn’t a thing, I’d have double the customers I have right now...and I’d easily triple my income.

  More than just that though, it’s everything that Austin represents. He provides expensive mass market furniture that’s brash and in your face. He’s made a killing out of selling the man’s look. Heavy wooden furniture that overpowers the room.

  Let’s not forget that he’s done it while completely selling out. He controls his costs at the expense of art and design.

  There’s nothing boutique about Austin Randall.

  Yeah, I know what you’re going to say: competition fosters excellence and all that bullshit. So let me put you at ease and say that I can most definitely handle competition. What I can’t handle are massive assholes that think they can swing their dick around and have the rest of the world at their feet.

  Now, I’ve never had a conversation with Austin, but it’s not like I need to. His fame precedes him, after all. He is what some would call...an assholish manwhore of a dirtbag. Or, to put it plainly, the man can’t keep it in his pants.

  Seems like the furnishing industry is packed with these assholes. Maybe I should start carrying my letter opener in my purse all the times. You just never know when you’re gonna need to open a letter.

  Or rip up a guy’s ballsack.

  “As I was saying,” the man leading the meeting continues, taking his eyes off me. “We’re aware that we’ve had some problems with this board’s presidents in the past. As such, and as you well know, we don’t have a president currently. But that doesn’t mean that this board is powerless.” He makes a quick pause, and then gives Taylor a quick nod. “The past three presidents have vacated their apartments and, due to the legal situation they’re in, ownership of those apartments has been returned to the board.”

  “And the Clarendon Tower board and Draper Pierce have reached an agreement,” Taylor suddenly says, fastening his jacket as he stands up and walks up the dais where the board is sitting. Ashley’s massive crush never fails to make an impression, it seems. No wonder she’s crazy about the guy. Handsome, charismatic, and Draper Pierce’s omnipotent CEO, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors this town has ever seen.

  Turning to his small audience, he flashes everyone a grin.

  “The three vacant apartments will be converted into fifteen one-bedroom studios, and Draper Pierce will lease them all. And that’s exactly why you’ve all been gathered here tonight.”

  He makes a sweeping motion at those listening to him and, for the first time since I got here, I really look at them. I see Willis from Fast Furnishing Solutions, Andrew from SolidWares, and four more bastards that have climbed to the top of the industry in this state.

  All my main competitors, together in a room.

  I should’ve brought seven letter openers.

  “As you’ve probably already figured out, these bedroom studios will need to be decorated,” Taylor continues, adjusting his blood-red tie and appraising us. There’s probably nothing in the world this guy enjoys more than to see people ripping each other’s throats to get a deal. Not that I’m surprised. You don’t get to be CEO of the largest bank in the world if, at the very least, you don’t enjoy the chaos you leave in your wake.

  “Yes, Willy?” Taylor points at the guy sitting right at the front, hand raised in the air like a good schoolboy.

  “It’s Willis,” he starts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “So, our whole thing is bidding for the job?”

  “Congratulations, Willy,” Taylor smiles. I can’t really tell if he mispronounced Willis’ name on purpose or if he just doesn’t give a fuck. “You got that right.”

  “I know this is Clarendon Tower and all,” Willy Wonka continues, his whiny voice making me want to stuff my ears with cotton balls. “But this sounds like a regular contract. Why are we all here? Fast Furnishing Solutions would take care of it in no time.” He snaps his fingers for emphasis, but that just makes him look like even more of a dork.

  Everyone in the industry knows that FFS should read as For Fuck’s Sake, as in “for fuck’s sake, why does my house look like a nursing home from the 80’s?”

  Yeah, his reputation isn’t the best.

  “You raise a valid point,” Taylor beams, and I can almost see dollar signs twinkling in his eyes. “Thing is, both the board and I agree that Clarendon Tower could use a facelift. The building has won numerous architectural awards and is the building of choice for the world’s elite. As it stands, it’s the most valuable building in New York, but we believe that there’s some room for...improvement.” He takes a deep breath, looking around the room and enjoying the look of anticipation on everyone’s face, and only then does he continue. “As such, whoever gets the contract will also handle the furnishing of the rest of the building. All of it.”

  Holy fucking Christ.

  If Taylor said what I think he just did, then we’re talking about a laundry list of common areas to furnish. My brain starts working faster than a cash register as I start to do the math. There are dozens of common areas in the building, all of them massive in size. Just think of it: and a single deal for a single area would probably mean dozens of millions of dollars.

  In profit.

  If we’re talking about a deal encompassing areas such as the bar, the lobby, the gym, the theater room, and God knows what else is in the building, then we’re talking about...holy shit.

  For a long time, no one says a thing.

  Which means that, just like me, everyone’s doing the math. Except I’m faster than the rest of them. Before I can stop myself, I jump up to my feet.

  “Are you really willing to shell out $1.5 billion dollars in furnishings?”

  “Close,” he smiles. “From our initial appraisal, we predict we’ll have to award at least $1.8 billion. But we still have to consider your proposals, so there’s some leeway there.”

  No wonder Ashley was excited on the phone.

  This is the deal of a lifetime.

  Sure, I have an apartment at Clarendon Tower, and I own a multimillion-dollar company. But with a deal like this, I’d be part of the billionaire elite. Just imagine what I could with that much money. More than just beat my competitors inside the state, I’d be able to go toe-to-toe with the biggest players in the world.

  Oh, I can already imagine all these Italian designers and Swedish executives digging a bunker as I show up on their doorsteps, ready to go thermonuclear on their asses.

  Yup, I’m definitely getting ahead of myself. But now you know why I’ve called my company Domina—because I dominate everything.

  “What’s the deadline for our proposals?” Willis charges again. In return, he gets one of Taylor’s smug grins.

  “We don’t exactly have a deadline. Instead, we’re going to hold a competition,” he announces. For a fraction of a second, I almost expect him to drop some swords right on the middle of the conference room and tells us to fight to our deaths. “Or a series of competitions, to be more precise. It will cover the next three months and, depending on how you fare, you’ll receive points for your performance. The winner gets ten points, second
place gets five points, and the rest...well, the rest get free coffee.”

  So, there aren’t going to be any sword fights anytime soon, but this sounds to me like a fight to the death all the same. Whoever manages to secure this deal will top the industry in a heartbeat.

  “Thank you very much, Mr. John. We couldn’t be happier about having Draper Pierce as our strategic ally. I’m sure the future will bring a great many rewards for both our organizations. As for you,” the vice president of the board turns his attention toward the businessman in attendance, an almost sadistic grin on his face. “Good luck. I think it doesn’t need to be said but—”

  “Winner takes it all,” I mutter under my breath, completing his sentence as the words echo in my head, making my heart pump faster. “Winner takes it all.”

  Chapter Five

  Austin

  “I didn’t see that coming,” I say to Taylor. “A competition. Really?”

  This Clarendon Tower contract is so much more than I expected.

  Like, a competition? What the fuck is that?

  But getting a contract with Clarendon Tower would be monumental for my business. It’s a client all designers dream of having and working for. And, I live here so I know exactly who Clarendon Towers is and who they cater to.

  I am Clarendon Towers.

  And, I fucking own Oakmont Furniture. My furniture is known for being the best of the best, ask any one of my competitors and my customers.

  Taylor and I stand next to one of the large, ornate pillars in the conference room while the rest of people in the meeting spill out into the lobby. I scan over them as they walk past me, assessing the competitors.

  “Like it? Thought it’d be more fun. And, it’ll show us the potential everyone has,” he winks.

  “Potential? Do I really need to prove to you that I have potential?” I lean in closer, whispering to him so the others can’t hear me. Though I don’t really care if they hear me or what they think about me. I’ve never cared about my reputation, well, my personal reputation. My professional reputation is a different story.

  That’s important to me.

  Everyone knows that I’ve worked hard to be where I am now, making my small family company into a multi-billion-dollar corporation. If they’ve done their homework, they know they have nothing to stand on when it comes to me. And, even if they thought they could beat me, they’ll quickly learn how skilled Austin Randall is.

  It’s just who I am. I work harder than anyone I know. Regardless of if there’s real competition or not here, it doesn’t mean I won’t work my ass off to prove myself worthy.

  Just you watch, baby. You’ll be my fangirl before you know it.

  But I do appreciate their industriousness and willingness to try. And I always love competition.

  “I know who you are. That’s why I wanted you here. I know your shit and it’s good,” Taylor explains. “But it’s also not up to me to make the rules. I had to compromise with the Condo Board. They presented this competition as a way to weed out the designers they don’t want to work with. In all honesty, it’s less time consuming than having to interview each of you individually and then do some sort of showcase.”

  I nod my head in agreement. He does have a point there. It’s takes a while to find the right designer and that’s for a regular client, not a client as elite as the Clarendon Tower.

  “But, what in the hell are they doing here?” I gesture towards the others lingering around us.

  The Willis guy from fucking Fast Furnishing Solutions leans down to take a picture of the wall molding and floor finishing. I shake my head. This poor guy has no chance in hell. I’ve seen his work, and it amazes me that he’s still in business. Especially here in New York. My fucking Aunt Jane, the one who didn’t follow in the Randall footsteps, could do a better job than him. And, she’s obsessed with paisley and couch covers. Yes, those plastic covers that stick to every part of your ass. That’s them, and they’re everywhere in her house. It’s…a lot. And, I’m sure Willis fucking loves that shit too. Really, there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to live up to the Clarendon Tower, even with all his pictures and notes.

  “Seriously, why is he here?” I tilt my head, pointing it towards Willis.

  “Willy?” Taylor scoffs with a laugh. “We have to give everyone a chance, that’s one of the main reasons why we’re doing the competition. We’ll see how many rounds he makes.”

  “Really? You think he’ll even last the first round?” I ask, watching Willy—Taylor’s clever nickname catches on quickly—take a video of the conference room. Ahh, he’s so rough.

  The other guy I recognize is Andrew from SolidWares. I’m familiar with his work too and it’s not as bad as Willy’s. But that’d be saying a lot, nothing is worse than his. Andrew’s a decent guy and he makes sturdy furniture, ranging from rustic to a more modern aesthetic. I’ve even worked with him on a few jobs. But he’s just a puppy dog, with no backbone and he’ll whimper out before the second contest. I’d bet on it.

  And to make matters worse, he’s walking behind Willy acting exactly like a lost puppy dog. He isn’t taking pictures at least, but he’s still writing down a novel’s worth of notes. These men are fucking pathetic.

  My gaze stops when I reach the woman standing next to Ashley, dressed in a tight navy blue dress. Her hair cascades down her shoulders in an effortless yet professional wave.

  Tess Armstrong.

  Now, she’s the only real competition I have. It is fitting to see her here after being my competitor for so long.

  I haven’t actually talked to her before, though I know of her—her background, portfolio, and how she runs her business. And, I admit it, her work is good, but it’s the opposite of mine. It’s feminine, delicate and soft where mine exudes masculinity, strength and sturdiness.

  It’s really man vs. woman at this point.

  And, to my amusement, she’s fucking hot as hell. I’ve seen her in the press and people have mentioned her looks in passing but now, seeing her in person, she’s something else. Her curves are mesmerizing. Her ass and tits perfectly complement each other, and her smoldering gaze has my cock twitching. I want to trace my hands over her, touching the softness of her body, a softness I’m assuming matches the feel of her designs.

  “I forgot to tell you. There are only two of Clarendon resident’s bidding for the position. The rest are, as you can see, external clients,” Taylor interrupts my thoughts, noticing that I’m staring at her.

  “Yeah, who’s the other one that lives here?” I ask, forcing my eyes back to meet him.

  He shakes he’s head and laughs, patting my shoulder in a condescending manner.

  “What?” I ask him, tilting my head up to him. “Who else lives here?”

  “That’s who. The woman you’ve been staring at,” Taylor adds.

  “Wait, Tess Armstrong lives in the Clarendon Tower?” I ask in shock.

  How did I not know this? I’ve lived in Clarendon Tower since the day it opened, and this is the first time I’m hearing about her living here. My competition, right underneath me—what the fuck?

  “Yeah, you didn’t know?” Taylor laughs. “So, both of you have a unique advantage. From me to you, the Condo Board’s best-case scenario is to have a Clarendon Tower resident nab the contract.”

  My head bobs, aimlessly, and I’m unable to form words. The realization that she’s been here the whole time smacks me in the face.

  It looks like she’s even bigger competition than I previously thought. She’s just as close to this contract as I am.

  But that just means I’ll have to work harder and smarter.

  I stare at her, assessing the woman that’s becoming a bigger pain in my ass. Yeah, she’s been a thorn in my side from time to time in the past but with the Clarendon Tower in our sights, I know that she’ll become much worse.

  She’s talking to Ashley, but she glances over at me occasionally. She knows I’ve been staring at her, because, hell, I’m not bei
ng discrete about it in the slightest. And, I know she can feel me on her. I know the effect my gaze has on a woman and she’s no exception. She’s acting like I’m not making her wet right now, but the way she’s rubbing her ankle with her foot makes me know I am.

  “Dude, can you try to act less like a fucking creep?” Taylor jabs, but follows my gaze over to the Ashley and Tess.

  Ashley twists around and smiles when she finds Taylor looking over too. They’re so into each other, it’s almost disgusting. I’m not one to vote for monogamy and relationships—I despise anything that ties you down—but they need to do something because this is getting annoying as fuck.

  She leans forward and whispers something to Tess and they look at each other and giggle.

  “I’m just assessing my competition, man,” I admit.

  “Sure, that’s it,” Taylor says sarcastically. “Wanna grab a drink?”

  “Wait a minute,” I wave him off. “We might have some business to attend to.”

  Tess and Ashley turn towards us and take a step forward. Tess’s eyes stay with mine and I scroll over her body, catching a glimmer of excitement when my gaze returns to face. A small smirk curls the corner of her lips and in that moment, I know this is going to be fun.

  Well, baby, let’s see how this goes.

  Let the Tess vs. Austin games begin.

  Chapter Six

  Tess

  “Austin Randall.”

  “Tess Armstrong.”

  The way we just said each other name’s makes it official: it’s going to be a bitter fight. I can already feel the electricity in the air, the mood in the room as tense as a nocked arrow.

  I take one hard look at him, drinking in his confident posture and the way his tailored suit seems to hug his chiseled muscles. He has a certain rugged charm about him, and his broad shoulders and strong arms just add to it. In his eyes I see a twinkle of cunning and intelligence, two qualities that probably just make him into a bigger asshole than I think he is.