Page 99 of Famous Last Words
“Thanks, Andy.”
He winks at me, that pain-in-the-ass smile lingering as he goes back to the paperwork, and it takes all I have not to throw a leftover breadstick at his head.
CHAPTER 39
FRAN
Ihate that I feel vulnerable walking off the elevator and into the Columbus Circle penthouse for the broker open. I shouldn’t feel vulnerable. This is my job. I have every right to be here. I should be excited, maybe a little nervous at the prospect of schmoozing with brokers representing such wealthy clients. But instead, I’m dreading tonight because, despite the party staff milling about, the thought of being caught alone with Tadd, even just for a few minutes, is giving me serious anxiety.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself, plastering on a smile.
“Oh, hey, Fran!” Bri greets me from where she’s doing some last-minute cushion fluffing.
I must admit, the stagers did a fantastic job bringing the place to life. It’s all whites and creams, blacks and golds. Pure opulence at its finest.
“Hey, Bri,” I say, walking past her and straight for the bar set up in the corner because, frankly, if I’m expected to coexist with Tadd Jennings and not act like I want to shove my four-inch stiletto up his ass, there is no way I’m doing it sober.
“Nice of you to showup.”
I accept the glass of rosé from the bartender with a smile, trying not to grimace at the sound of Tadd’s voice behind me. With a fortifying sip, I turn and spear him with adon’t-mess-with-meglower.
“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says, making a point of checking his watch.
“Traffic,” is all I say with a shrug as I take another sip.
Tadd eyes the glass of wine that’s almost empty already. “Well, I hope you know you’re here to help me sell this place, not get sloppy drunk.”
“Tadd,” I say on a bored sigh, “if I have to be within fifty yards of you, I’ll get as drunk as I damn well choose.”
Looking me up and down, he sneers. “Just make sure you look pretty. It’s the only reason you’re here anyway.”
He turns and struts off with his chin held high in the air, as if he’s just had a realmic-dropmoment. And all I can do is roll my eyes because he’s such a dick.
Finishing my wine with a big, unattractive gulp, I turn and hold it out to the bartender, smiling sweetly. Thankfully he knows what to do without me even having to ask, refilling the glass to the very brim.
I hold my drink up in cheers. “Keep ‘em coming.”
“The penthouse spans a total of five-thousand-four-hundred square feet, with jetliner views of the entire city. Central Park, The Chrysler Building, down to the Statue of Liberty, spanning west over the Hudson are all visible. These are some of the best views of the city available.” I smile at the group of brokers I’m showing around upstairs. This is my third run-through, and it’s getting a little robotic, but the three glasses of wine I’ve consumed have helped loosen me up a little.
I lead the group through the primary bedroom. “Fourteen-foot ceilings throughout, the primary suite includes his and hers bathrooms as well as separate dressing areas. There are five bedrooms in total, all en suite, and if you follow me, I’ll show?—”
“How’s it going in here, sweetheart?”
I spin around, my jaw gaping at Tadd and his audacity not only to interrupt me mid-tour but to call mesweetheart. I swear, vitriol burns my tongue. And he doesn’t stop there. He actually comes up to me, snaking his arm around me like he has any business touching me.
“If anyone has any questions, please don’t hesitate to come see me or Fran. We’re tag-teaming, aren’t we, sweetie?” He looks down at me with a suggestive grin, winking, and I’d knee him in the balls if I wasn’t currently rendered all but frozen.
When his hand squeezes my waist, I can no longer control myself. Snapping to, I shrug out of his reach, taking a giant step away from him.
“Actually, Tadd…” I force a smile, but I know he can see the murderous look in my eyes because he bites back a grin. My palm itches to slap him as I continue through gritted teeth. “Would you be able to finish this tour? I need to go vomit.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and storm out of the primary and down the huge architectural staircase to the great room that is overflowing with people and buzzing with energy. I make a beeline for the bar. My bartender friend reaches for the wine on my approach.
“Actually—” I hold a hand up, eyeing the bottle of 1942. “I’ll take a tequila. Double. Straight up.”
“My kinda gal.” He winks and goes about making my drink. I accept it from him with an appreciative smile before turning and disappearing into the crowd before Tadd spots me on his creep-radar.
But just as I’m sipping my tequila and trying to plan my escape, I feel an unexpected hand on my arm.“There you are.”
