"Hello," she says.
"The girl,”Greta Schmidt’s voicesays crisply,“the one that makes your advertisements and social media posts?" shesays, and all eyes turn to me. I wasn't ready for all that attention becauseI’m doing what I never do at work. I’mleaning in a very unprofessional way against my father.Iquicklystep away from him and stand on my own.
"What about her?" Sasha asks as she picks up the receiver and takes the call off the speakers. I watch the light die from her eyes.
"What's happening?" my father whispers, but no one has any response.
"Holy shit," I whisper hoarsely. Maybe they saw my unprofessional, cheaply made videos, and decided we were a joke. "Have I just cost us this listing?"
"That can't be," my father whispers back, but his entire demeanor has changed. He even looks a bit white around the mouth.
Sasha ends the call.
"What did she say?" everyone asks breathlessly.
Sasha manages a smile, but I can see the terrible disappointment in her lovely eyes as she turns to face me.
"They want you to do the viewing, Lara. Not me," she says softly.
Chapter Three
LARA
At first, I’m sure I must have misheard her, but the shocked murmurings all around convinces me I couldn’t have.
"That can't be," I laugh nervously.
My father smiles at me, and there is pride in his eyes. "They said they want the girl posting on our social media page and on our adverts. That would be you.”
Well, of course, it would be me, I think. No one else wanted to be involved in my tomfoolery, even though I had constantly tried with every fiber of my being to persuade them that it was one of the best ways to expand our agency. Sasha actually thought it made our agency look less professional.
“You’ve got to go close the sale,” Dad says with a big happy smile.
I let out a deep breath as the magnitude of what has just been dropped on my shoulders finally sinks in and I can't help but feel overwhelmed and scared. The fate of the agency and all the staff depends on this. I look at all the faces gathered around me with expectant hopeful expressions and then I look at Sasha. There isa frozen smile on her face, and I know instantly. She is expecting me to fail.
I turn to my father anxiously. “But, Dad, I can’t do it. I’ll screw it up.”
"You won’t screw it up. Sasha will help you,” my father says firmly.
I shake my head. “Dad, I know you love me and you can’t help but see the best in me, but the reason I do social media and the adverts is because I’m a terrible salesperson.”
“No, you’re not,” he says loyally.
“Remember the Anderson family? They were ready to sign on the dotted line. What did I do? I started mentioning leases and stuff I shouldn’t and they walked away from the deal.”
“You were new then. You know better than to do that now.”
“Dad, the showing is tomorrow,” I wail. “Even if I was experienced enough, I know nothing about the property or how to stage such a high-end listing, let alone sell it to a billionaire.”
My father frowns. The enormity of the problem is finally becoming clear to him.
“Maybe we can handle the sale together," Sasha suggests softly. She knows what I know. She deserves this listing, not me.
The light returns to my father’s eyes. "Yes, yes,” he says eagerly, “that would be the best solution. Both of you can work it together. Sasha can do the selling and you can smile a lot and offer to pour him a glass of champagne or something.”
I almost collapse with relief. “Yeah, that would work for me.”
“Good. Good. There's a lot of preparation work to be done so, Sasha, make contact with the seller’s agency straight away and arrange a meeting. I want to be present for the negotiation. And the rest of you, tie up everything you’re doing and get ready tohelp get this show on the road. We need to get the keys of the property and make it look amazing."