The Romance Plan: Cupids: Book 5

by Lila Monroe

  “That sounds nice,” I lie, but hey, some people actually think being trapped in a confined space on a vast body of water is fun. “You’ve earned a little time to relax.”

  Celeste smiles. “You know,” she says, “I think I have.”

  Eliza knocks on the open door just then, a vision in black cigarette pants and a silk blouse that shows off her toned, graceful arms. “Hey, handsome,” she says with a smile, then steps all the way into the office and notices Celeste. “Oops!” she says, her cheeks pinking up. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  But Celeste only smiles. “We’re all done here,” she promises, standing up and brushing some imaginary crumbs off her dress. “How are you, sweetheart?”

  “Can’t complain,” Eliza admits.

  Celeste looks back and forth between us, a knowing smile playing across her lips. “No,” she says, “I’m sure neither one of you can.” She slings her purse over one elegant shoulder. “Take care of yourselves,” she says.

  “What was that all about?” Eliza asks once she’s gone.

  “I think she wanted to… Make amends?” I shut the door and fill her in on our conversation. Eliza perches on the edge of my desk, listening carefully and asking questions. It’s new to me, to have someone to talk about these kinds of things with. I like it so much more than I ever would have guessed.

  “Well, that’s lovely,” she says when I’m through. “It’s almost as if Harry left you two to take care of each other, in a way.”

  I smile. “That’s a nice way to think of it.’

  “Yeah, well,” Eliza says, smiling back. “I’m a nice girl.”

  “Not that nice,” I say, standing up and wrapping a hand around her waist, pulling her body flush against me. Her lips open under mine, my tongue probing her hot, wet mouth. I’ve just found the hidden zipper on her sleek black pants when my assistant buzzes through with a call.

  “Marcus Briggs on Line 2!” she chirps.

  I sigh. “It’s the financiers,” I tell Eliza, surprised by my own unwillingness to be interrupted. Before I met her, there was hardly anything I’d rather do more than work. “I have to take this. But I can find time for lunch, if you’re around?”

  Eliza nods. “Lunch,” she echoes, then wrinkles her nose flirtatiously. “And maybe dessert.”

  She waggles her fingers in a wave before shutting the door behind her. I sit down at my desk and pick up the receiver. “Liam Sterling,” I say.

  “Sterling,” says the voice on the other end of the line, his posh accent all Kennebunkport by way of Hong Kong. “Briggs.”

  “Briggs, hi,” I echo. I glance out the window of my office at Eliza, who’s stopped at the admin desk to chat with Rachel. Just for a moment, I let myself enjoy the view of her from behind. “Thanks for calling me back.”

  “No problem,” Briggs says. “I wish I was reaching out with better news.”

  I’m so busy gazing at Eliza that it takes his words a moment to register. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’ll cut right to the chase, Sterling: We can’t do it.”

  I blink, a cold knife of panic slicing through me. “I—” I break off. “You can’t do what, exactly?”

  “Extend the credit line,” he says. “We’re stretched too thin as it is. We simply don’t have the reserves to continue to float a debt this large.”

  “Uh—all right,” I say, trying to keep my tone calm and even. The last thing I need is for Briggs to smell blood in the water. “Well, let’s just take a minute to problem-solve before we go making any grand declarations.” I try to think rationally, doing my best to channel Aisling, but even I can hear the emotion creeping into my voice. “There must be a way for us to work something out.”

  But Briggs is unmoved. “Sorry, Sterling,” he tells me flatly. “The loans are due as planned. You can’t be surprised, that place was a zombie even before you got on the scene. Dead company walking. All you could ever do was buy it time.”

  I can’t accept this. “You’re not serious,” I insist, looking for the angle. Surely there’s something I can say… “I thought we had a gentleman’s agreement here. And when you factor in the sure success of Verity Lange’s new novel—”

  “Oh, that reminds me!” Briggs says, voice brightening. “My wife loves her. Any way I could get you to send me an autographed copy?”

  I hang up without bothering to say goodbye. My mind is racing, and a splitting headache is already beginning to gather at the base of my skull. Briggs’s words echo in my ears. The loans are due as planned. And we’ve got no money to pay them. Which means if I don’t liquidate the entire company—immediately—we’ll spiral into bankruptcy, and then there’ll truly be nothing left.

  Celeste was wrong, I realize, as the full extent of the situation becomes clear. I’m not a pair of safe hands. Anything but. I’m going to have to sell the Post-its out of the supply closets.

  I’m going to have to let everyone go.

  I take a deep breath, trying not to panic. It’s nothing I haven’t had to tackle before, obviously. If there’s one thing I’ve got experience doing, it’s cleaning house.

  But this is different.

  I look out the window of my office, where Eliza is still chatting with Rachel the admin, her smile wide and carefree. She loves this company—and over the last few weeks I’ve started to love it, too. How am I ever going to tell her that it’s over?

  I can’t.

  I ignore the voice in my head telling me to be rational and business-minded about this—the one that sound suspiciously like Aisling’s—and tell my assistant to cancel all my meetings for the rest of the morning. There’s got to be another way to save Sterling.

  And I’m going to find it.

  But there isn’t.

  I spend the next few days holed up in my office, avoiding Eliza as much as I can. I can’t tell her about my epic failure just yet, so I try to work the numbers every which way, call in every favor I can imagine, but there’s no avoiding it. Even if Verity’s book sells beyond our wildest imaginings—and that’s a big if—Sterling is done.

  “Try not to beat yourself up about it, dude,” Jase says, sliding a bourbon across the bar in my direction. He insisted I come by the Clubhouse to drown my sorrows, and though I down the amber liquid in one miserable gulp, barely even tasting it, it doesn’t do anything to help.

  Jase raises his eyebrows before pouring me another. “It’s not like you didn’t know the place was doomed from the start. You literally went in there with the express purpose of doing this exact thing.”

  “I know,” I say, rubbing a hand over my tired face. I haven’t exactly been sleeping well.

  Or sleeping at all.

  “But somewhere along the line I got it into my head that maybe Sterling wasn’t too far gone to save.” I say. “I really thought we had a chance…”

  Jase shrugs. “You gave it your best shot,” he reminds me, “and that’s admirable. But it was a Hail Mary from the start.”

  “I suppose,” I admit grudgingly. It’s true, of course. Logically, this little experiment was never going to end any other way. But I still can’t help but I feel like I let everyone down—like I let Eliza down most of all. How am I ever going to tell her that this company she loves is finished? That she and all her friends and colleagues are out of a job? The thought of it makes me want to lie down in the middle of the subway tracks and let the rats have their way with me, once and for all.

  “I just don’t want to let her down,” I say quietly, and Jase knows exactly who I mean.

  “You said she’s smart, and successful. She’ll find something else.”

  But Eliza loves that company. And I’m the one who drove it into the ground. She’ll be devastated. Unless…

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Jase, grabbing the phone and dialing even as I’m heading for the exit. “I’ve got to make a call.”

  20

  Eliza

  “Hey there,” I say into Liam’s voicemail, idly fingering
the hem of a strapless silk gown as Maddie and I stroll through the formalwear department at Bloomingdale’s. “It’s me. Again. And I guess I missed you. Again? Anyway, I’m out doing some last-minute shopping for Verity’s big launch party tonight. Stay tuned for dressing room selfies.” I lower my voice. “I might even be wearing a dress in a few of them.”

  I hang up to find Maddie raising her eyebrows at me from across a display of beaded shawls. “Saucy,” she says, her red lips smiling in approval.

  “Sexy selfies are just about the only trick I’ve got left in my bag right now,” I confess with a sigh as we weave through the racks of brightly colored lace and chiffon. “Liam and I have been playing phone tag all week, I don’t know what’s going on with him.” I frown. “I sounded breezy, right? I think I sounded breezy.”

  “Totally breezy,” Maddie assures me, but I can feel a hard knot of anxiety lodging itself in my chest. I try to push it down, reminding myself that we’ve both been busy with work and the final details of Verity’s launch. Still, the truth is that other than a few stolen kisses (okay, grope-fests) in the supply closet at the office, Liam and I have barely connected in days. And even though I know it’s not intentional on his part—at least, I don’t think it’s intentional on his part?—I miss him.

  And all the sex we could be having.

  And all the pancakes we could be eating after the aforementioned sex.

  “Look on the bright side,” Maddie advises now, examining a pair of satin pumps with a five-inch heel. “Liam is just swamped with Sterling stuff, right? It’s not like you don’t know what he’s up to. I mean, Mark is always super-busy at the hospital, but I don’t worry about it because I know by the end of his shift he’s too tired to cheat. And in the meantime, I just enjoy my freedom.” She wiggles the shoe in my direction. “And shop.”

  “I know.” I smile, draping a fitted red dress over one arm. “I’m not worried about him cheating. Liam isn’t like that.”

  “Oh no?” Maddie raises her eyebrows. “You’re really into this guy, huh?”

  “I’m more than into him, potentially,” I confess. I know it’s soon, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot—what it’ll be like to have him in New York long-term, the kind of future we might have together. “He’s smart, and wry, and secretly a softie. And also fully the best lay I’ve ever had.” I sigh longingly. “When we can see each other, at least.”

  “Well, he’ll be at the party tonight, won’t he?” Maddie asks. “All the more reason to look absolutely smokin’ hot.” She holds up a killer black jumpsuit with an open back and a plunging neckline. “What do you think?”

  “It’s incredible,” I say, a slow smile spreading across my face as I picture Liam’s expression when he walks into the Griffin Hotel. “How much does it cost?”

  Maddie shrugs. “Whatever it is, you’ve more than earned it,” she points out, then slings an arm around my shoulders and steers me toward the dressing room.

  I swing past the blow-dry bar before heading back to my apartment to finish getting ready, spending extra time on my makeup and slipping on a pair of gold hoops that used to belong to my grandma. I wish she was here to read Verity’s new book—and to know I had a part in bringing it into the world—but wearing her jewelry helps me feel like maybe she’s with me in spirit.

  This is a big night, for Verity—and for me, too. Me and Liam.

  I grab an evening bag from my closet, sending off one more quick text to Liam before I go. Meet you at the party, I tell him. Better hurry before I get swept off my feet by some other handsome, dashing publishing heir.

  Still breezy, right? Totally cool.

  The party is at the bar of the Griffin Hotel, all sleek marble floors and deep leather booths, crystal chandeliers glittering overhead. It’s real old-fashioned New York glam, which I know Harry would have loved. Plus, thanks to Poppy’s boyfriend Dylan, it also won’t make Liam faint over the promotional budget. I show up early to make sure setup is going okay, checking in with the florists and the bartenders and the DJ. “It’s like a wedding!” the caterer comments, and as I watch a tuxedoed waiter wheel an enormous cake in the direction of the kitchen, I have to agree. I can’t help but think it’s exactly the right vibe for the evening—a happily ever after, for Verity and Sterling and me.

  I make my way to a linen-covered table near the front of the room, where an editorial assistant is just unloading a box of Rock Hard. It’s the first time I’ve seen finished copies of the book in person, and I feel my face break into a wide grin at the sight of it. I reach out and pick up a copy—running my fingers over the cover, turning it over and feeling the weight of it in my hands. I’m not some kind of purist who hates e-books and thinks it’s a sin to write in the margins or to dog-ear the pages of your favorite novel. After all, books are meant to be read! Still, I can’t deny that there’s something that feels a little sacred about the object in my hands.

  “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” There’s Verity swanning into the bar, resplendent in a floor- length silk gown and a feathered headband. Dot follows behind, looking dapper in a fitted suit and heels. “That cover! Eliza, you’re a genius. I know I wanted a gorgeous man, but I think you’re right—the diamond necklace is much more mainstream.”

  “I think we both know who the real genius is here,” I demur, my voice getting muffled as Verity envelops me in a Dior-scented hug. “But the book is beautiful. And the reviews have been amazing so far! Everyone’s saying it’s a real return to form.”

  “Are they?” Verity smiles serenely. “Oh, darling, I never read reviews.”

  “Sure she doesn’t,” Dot says with a wink, reaching out and squeezing Verity’s hand with obvious pride. “Sweetheart, can I get you a drink?”

  “Champagne, if you don’t mind,” Verity says, turning and dropping a tender kiss on Dot’s cheek. “We’re celebrating, after all!”

  “We certainly are.”

  Once Dot is gone Verity lays a hand on my arm, her expression turning serious. “Eliza, my love, I hope you know how much I appreciate everything you and your little peach of a boy-toy have done for me.” She offers me a conspiratorial wink. “I know this couldn’t have been the most straightforward editorial assignment you’ve ever undertaken.”

  “It was a dream come true,” I tell her honestly. “A total career bucket list moment.” I smile. “And I’m going to be calling you on Monday to set an appointment to talk about your next book.”

  “My next book!” Verity laughs out loud, full and throaty. “Honey, I’m going to need a month in St. Tropez just to recover from writing this one.”

  Dot returns with the champagne just then and the two of them are absorbed almost immediately into the crowd of delighted well-wishers who’ve begun to arrive. Suited waitstaff pass oyster shooters and potato chips topped with caviar while the DJ spins a playlist of upbeat love songs. I grab a glass of sauvignon blanc and mingle with my colleagues, who—judging from the eager way they’re clustered around the open bar—are planning to take full advantage of Sterling’s now-rare largesse. I can’t say I blame them. We’re all in the mood to celebrate tonight. It feels like a dark cloud that’s been hovering over the company since Harry’s passing has finally lifted. We did it—got this book out into the world.

  We saved Sterling, once and for all.

  The party spirit is infectious. I help myself to a plate of fancy cheeses and catch up on industry gossip with friends from other publishers. I even sneak a quick tequila shot with the copyeditors. Still, I can’t help keeping an eye on the door for Liam. I feel my whole body flush when he finally walks in. He looks positively climbable in a tailored suit and a deep blue tie that makes his eyes look extra bright, his dark hair swept back off his forehead. I watch as he scans the crowd, his serious face breaking into a slow, private smile when we lock gazes across the room—and oh yeah, this jumpsuit was definitely the right call.

  “It’s you,” I say, tilting my head to the side.

  “It’s m
e,” he agrees. “You look incredible.” He takes my hand, his smile fading just the slightest bit. “We should find somewhere private to talk.”

  “Funny, I’ve been saying that same thing all week.” I grin. “You’re a hard man to track down, Liam Sterling. Come on, let’s get a drink.” I take his hand and start to tug him in the direction of the bar.

  But Liam shakes his head. “Eliza—”

  “Trust me, you’re going to want to fortify yourself with a little liquid courage,” I warn him with a grin. ‘The girls from the marketing department were talking about doing the electric slide.”

  “Eliza—”

  I hesitate. It’s clear he’s trying to tell me something, and I know I should take him out into the lobby where we can be alone. But then I think of how hard he’s been to get in touch with this week, and the creeping feeling I’ve had that he might be avoiding me. There’s a tiny part of me that’s worried he’s about to tell me he’s going back to San Francisco, and I just can’t bear to hear it right now.

  “Look,” I tell him, fixing him with my most dazzling, alluring smile, “I know you’ve been working like crazy. But isn’t it nice to have kick back and celebrate this amazing thing we accomplished? Even if it’s just for tonight?”

  And whatever it was he wanted to say, it can’t have been that important, because Liam smiles. “You’re right,” he says, ducking his face to kiss me before taking my hand and leading me over in the direction of the bar. “We can talk later.”

  Liam seems to loosen up as the party goes on, the two of us eating our weight in canapés and dancing to Aretha Franklin and Nat King Cole. Liam twirls me around the dance floor until I’m giddy with the closeness of him. We even manage to squeeze in a make-out in a darkened corridor off the lobby, his hands warm and familiar on my bare back. “What do you say we sneak out of here,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers slowly down my spine in a way that makes me shiver. “Nobody would miss us, right?”