Page 2 of The Charmer

The owner of the company who was previously doing all the decorations for our float had gotten wind of my last email. She'd sent me some very unprofessional emails in return complaining about my decision. Honestly, I couldn’t believe the nerve of this woman and quickly forwarded her responses to my assistant. I didn't have time for anything like that. The woman just needed to accept it and get over it. It wasn’t as if we were in breach of contract or anything.

"Julian, thank God you're here," one of my bartenders said as I stepped inside. The Lucky Spot was my favorite bar. I had an office here, too, and worked from it more often than from the headquarters of the conglomerate, which was on Royal Street.

I fucking loved coming here, and not just on weekends. I often dropped by during the week, too, after the workday was over. It was on Dumaine Street, right in the middle of the hustle and bustle. I liked the change of pace and the energy of the bar.

"Hit me up. What's wrong?"

"Some of our delivery guys didn't show up tonight."

Not uncommon, especially this time of year. So many suppliers overbooked themselves.

"Send some of the boys shopping right away.” Any solution was better than none. "Do you know what we’re out of?"

"Yeah, I've got a list."

"Perfect. Then give it to them."

I looked around at the customers packing the bar. They all had a drink in their hand and were chatting away or dancing. I'd never tire of the energy in this area. I traveled the world, but absolutely nothing compared to the French Quarter on a weekend.

I looked at my staff and zeroed in on Alexa, one of our younger servers. She looked flushed. No, on second glance, her eyes were red. Maybe she had allergies? I walked over to her.

"Alexa, you feeling okay?" I asked.

She looked up at me and answered, "Um, well, I'm coming down with something, I think. I thought I was getting better, but ever since I started the shift, my nose keeps running."

"Go home."

She jerked her head back. "But my shift just started."

"You're only going to get worse if you work when you're sick. Go home."

The corners of her mouth turned downward. "But I'm..." She shook her head.

"You’ll still get paid for the shift. Tips too," I assured her. I took care of my employees.

Her mouth fell open. "Really?”

“Did HR not tell you about how we do things around here?"

She shrugged. "They might have mentioned something, but in my experience, things like that are too good to be true.”

“Not at the Orleans Conglomerate. Go home. I'm here tonight anyway and can easily help out."

"Thanks, Julian. You're really a great boss."

"Music to my ears. Now come on, leave before you infect the whole place and we get a bad rep." I didn't particularly give a shit about a bad rep, but she needed to get home ASAP.

As I headed behind the counter, I took out my phone, intending to send an email to our drink suppliers to move the delivery time earlier in the afternoon.

Oh, for fuck's sake. I had another email from our former supplier for the float. The woman just wouldn't stop.

Title: Face-to-face meeting.

I snorted. The last thing I had time for was a disgruntled business owner. This was the third email she'd sent. My opinion of her had worsened with every single one of them. This was simply not how business was done. I'd been tempted in the beginning to tell my assistant to hire them back for next year but then quickly changed my mind. I didn’t care for her unprofessionalism.

But curiosity won, and instead of deleting the email, I opened it.

Mr. Leblanc,

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