Page 133 of Crazy In Love
“They will not come from the Vintage Rose until you have partial ownership. End of story. I will not line your mother’s pockets with the fruits of your labor. I ordered them from a florist in the city.”
I chuckled. “Thank you, lover boy.”
He led me to the dining table, where a bag of takeout from the Honey Biscuit Café was sitting. I grabbed some plates, and we both took our seats as he poured us each a glass of wine.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“I think a couple dozen floral arrangements is more than enough.” I smiled up at him.
“I was in New York for more than just my business meeting,” he said as he paused before dabbing his mouth with his napkin.
“Did you take on an East Coast lover?” I joked, but then my smile dropped when he didn’t laugh.
Alarm bells were going off in my head.
He was about to drop a bomb on me.
I could see it in his steely gray eyes.
“Do you remember Pierre from the hotel in Paris?” he asked.
“Of course I do.”
“And remember how he mentioned that he was opening a huge hotel in New York City?”
“Yes, I remember him saying that.”
He studied me for a long moment as he finished chewing his food. “Well, I went there to negotiate a position for you. And he agreed to the terms.”
I blinked a couple of times as I tried to process his words. “Negotiate a position for me? What are you talking about?”
“I showed him the photos from the renovation at my house. I told him you had a lot of untapped potential, and he agreed. He loved what you did with my home.”
I shook my head, my thoughts spinning. “What does that have to do with Pierre?”
“He’s offering you the position, angel. You’ll be the lead designer along with his in-house designer, and you’ll work together for the next year on this project. And if you do well, he has plans to open several more hotels in the Big Apple.” He reached for his wine glass as if we were discussing the weather and not my future.
“I don’t live in New York City,” I reminded him, my voice cold and lacking all emotion.
“That’s just semantics. I found you a gorgeous apartment, and if it meets your standards, I’ll cover the lease for you for a year. This is your chance to make your dreams come true.”
My mouth gaped open, and I slapped his hand hard when he reached over to close it. “Don’t touch me right now, Bridger.”
I was on my feet, pacing in circles in front of him.
“Why are you angry? I did this for you,” he said hesitantly, which made me think even he wasn’t buying his own bullshit.
I pointed my finger at his face. “No. You did this for you. You’re a coward.”
And the look on his face told me all I needed to know.
He knew it, too.
thirty-seven
. . .
Bridger
