Mogul
Page 25
“Damn right, love bug.” Jensen rumples her hair.
We start unpacking boxes, cutting open the tape with knives, pulling out clothes, and getting them up on the racks.
“You’re good at this,” I grumble at Bryn with playful, open resentment. She’s on her third box and I’m still on my first. I tear a nail and curse. “You owe me a manicure. Pedicure too,” I warn, sucking on my broken nail.
“You’re not even using your feet!” She laughs. “I’m good at this because we used to do this at my parents’ department store before it was sold.” She winks, but the nostalgia is clearly evident in her voice.
“And now look at what you’re going to have, all for yourself.” I motion to the huge warehouse that we’re setting up to be her modern-age clothing store. It’s going to be fantastic.
“Not just for myself. I have an investor, remember.” Her eyes shadow when she mentions Aaric Christos.
“And you could have had him, too, if it weren’t for his floozy bimbo ex—”
When Christos walks into the warehouse, I trail off.
Bryn freezes when she spots him by the door. We all stare, and though I’ve only seen him on the internet, I know this is the man who’s broken her heart by the way he’s staring at her and she’s staring at him. Oh he’s gorgeous, all right. Powerful-looking. Confident.
My Workaholic is hotter, I catch myself thinking, and push the thought aside.
Bryn blinks furiously and continues opening boxes, moving more awkwardly now that he’s here.
As if noticing her jumbly movements, Christos approaches Bryn and asks, “You okay?” He seems genuinely concerned.
I watch them in interest, still sucking on my nail.
“Yes.” Bryn is doing well at hiding how flustered she is, but I can tell, because she’s my roomie, that she’s battling to stay composed.
“Good. Be careful. Where do you want these?”
She swallows and avoids making eye contact as Christos points at a couple of boxes. “Over by the windows. But you don’t have to move them. I can open them here and put the clothing on the racks,” she rushes on.
Ignoring her protests, Christos scoops one up like a pro and carries it across the room. He returns and reaches for Bryn’s cutting knife and starts opening boxes for her.
I’m shocked. He’s a businessman, and businessmen don’t do these things. But something about him doing filthy labor makes me realize he wasn’t always a businessman.
Soon, a dozen men under Christos’s command arrive to open boxes. The racks start filling up across the warehouse. We finish hanging the merchandise in a few hours rather than the expected full day.
“I suppose we’ll have time for the salon tomorrow night after all,” I’m happy to report to Bryn. But she’s hardly paying attention or worrying about my cracked nail and desire for a pedicure and manicure. She’s watching Christos.
“Thanks for helping,” she tells him.
He winks down at her. “Still a hell of a box lugger.”
She smiles in farewell, and I can feel the air crackle between them. I step back and grab Jensen so we can all leave. After Bryn steps out, I pull Jensen toward the door, giving Christos a black don’t-you-dare-play-with-my-friend-again look.
Bastard.
I’m so mad that I fume for the rest of the day, wondering why the asshole keeps looking at her like he cares when he clearly doesn’t care that he’s broken her heart.
* * *
I think about my own possible future heartbreak when I hit the salon with Becka and Bryn the next evening. I try to push Ian Sexy Suit Ford out of my mind, but he’s always lingering somewhere in my thoughts. Even as I chat on the phone with another dog walker and send her over on a test walk to see if she works well with Milly.
Now we’re in Brooklyn for the launch. Becka, Jensen, and I run all over the warehouse, helping people with their orders and talking up the use of fabrics, the simple designs, and the custom features on the app. We’re working it for our girl Bryn, and I know she appreciates us being here.
As I busily tend to the customers, I notice through the crowd that Christos stands with his girlfriend beside him. The woman has her hand on his back, but he doesn’t have his hand on hers. Interesting.
I feel flushed when a thought of dating Ian publicly hits me. What would that be like? Instead of dwelling on the topic, I seek out another customer to distract myself.
“I saw these when they were just drawings. I can touch them now,” Becka whispers in amazement as she comes up to my side.
“Better yet, you can wear them.” I wink.
We share a grin, my chest swelling with pride for Bryn. She created her vision from scratch, using determination and hard work. Her success encourages me to chase after my dream.
And what about your sexy Workaholic, Sara? What are you going to do about that?
Shut up, slut. You just want more of that D, I grumble to myself.
“Sara,” Jensen says, motioning to a jumpsuit that is starting to fall from its display.
“I’ll get it.” I look around. I can’t find Bryn anywhere, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here to help and I’m glad that I know exactly what my job is tonight. To be sure nobody leaves without placing an order. Or a thousand.
“Bryn stepped out with Christos,” Becka says.
I glance at the doors—but though Bryn and Christos are outside, business keeps going at a fast rate.
I even end up ordering myself an outfit. Workaholic will love this! I think as I go for something sexy that won’t break my bank, a tiny gold sequin dress that will show off my long, toned legs.
I don’t know what I will wear it for, or when, but I know it’s for stupid sexy him.
It’s a little formal but a lot hot. I fantasize about wearing it for Ian on a night in. I could pad around barefoot in this in his hot-ass townhome. Pantyless and ready to get nailed.
Sara, really, you don’t even know if you’ll say yes to dating!
Or do I?
Ugh. I hate to think that both Ian and I already know my answer.
* * *
Hours later, Bryn is still nowhere to be seen. I spot Christos across the room, checking on everyone and making sure the iPads are working. His girlfriend is by the door with his brother and she seems to have been crying.
I march up to him and ask, “Where’s Bryn?”
“She needed to be alone. I’m staying until the guests leave.”
I purse my lips and shoot him another dark look, then spin around and stomp away. I want to punch him for hurting Bryn, but I slow my steps and consider the expression on his face. He looked, and sounded, miserable. For the first time, I suspect he’s as messed up about things as she is.
I text Bryn to give her an update. For her to leave the way she did, something must have gone really wrong. I ask her if she’s okay.
I’m okay, she texts back.
I know she’s not.
But this isn’t the moment to discuss it. We can do that later. Right now I want things to run smoothly.
Becka is on her fourth glass of champagne, and she’s acting as bubbly as the alcohol she’s imbibing. “He loves her. Why is he marrying that bimbo?” She signals to Miranda, who looks restless as she leaves with Christos’s brother.
“I don’t know. Responsibility, I guess.”
She shrugs and lets out a small hiccup.
I decide I’m going to have to carry both of our weight the rest of the evening and leave her to get back to work.
We start unpacking boxes, cutting open the tape with knives, pulling out clothes, and getting them up on the racks.
“You’re good at this,” I grumble at Bryn with playful, open resentment. She’s on her third box and I’m still on my first. I tear a nail and curse. “You owe me a manicure. Pedicure too,” I warn, sucking on my broken nail.
“You’re not even using your feet!” She laughs. “I’m good at this because we used to do this at my parents’ department store before it was sold.” She winks, but the nostalgia is clearly evident in her voice.
“And now look at what you’re going to have, all for yourself.” I motion to the huge warehouse that we’re setting up to be her modern-age clothing store. It’s going to be fantastic.
“Not just for myself. I have an investor, remember.” Her eyes shadow when she mentions Aaric Christos.
“And you could have had him, too, if it weren’t for his floozy bimbo ex—”
When Christos walks into the warehouse, I trail off.
Bryn freezes when she spots him by the door. We all stare, and though I’ve only seen him on the internet, I know this is the man who’s broken her heart by the way he’s staring at her and she’s staring at him. Oh he’s gorgeous, all right. Powerful-looking. Confident.
My Workaholic is hotter, I catch myself thinking, and push the thought aside.
Bryn blinks furiously and continues opening boxes, moving more awkwardly now that he’s here.
As if noticing her jumbly movements, Christos approaches Bryn and asks, “You okay?” He seems genuinely concerned.
I watch them in interest, still sucking on my nail.
“Yes.” Bryn is doing well at hiding how flustered she is, but I can tell, because she’s my roomie, that she’s battling to stay composed.
“Good. Be careful. Where do you want these?”
She swallows and avoids making eye contact as Christos points at a couple of boxes. “Over by the windows. But you don’t have to move them. I can open them here and put the clothing on the racks,” she rushes on.
Ignoring her protests, Christos scoops one up like a pro and carries it across the room. He returns and reaches for Bryn’s cutting knife and starts opening boxes for her.
I’m shocked. He’s a businessman, and businessmen don’t do these things. But something about him doing filthy labor makes me realize he wasn’t always a businessman.
Soon, a dozen men under Christos’s command arrive to open boxes. The racks start filling up across the warehouse. We finish hanging the merchandise in a few hours rather than the expected full day.
“I suppose we’ll have time for the salon tomorrow night after all,” I’m happy to report to Bryn. But she’s hardly paying attention or worrying about my cracked nail and desire for a pedicure and manicure. She’s watching Christos.
“Thanks for helping,” she tells him.
He winks down at her. “Still a hell of a box lugger.”
She smiles in farewell, and I can feel the air crackle between them. I step back and grab Jensen so we can all leave. After Bryn steps out, I pull Jensen toward the door, giving Christos a black don’t-you-dare-play-with-my-friend-again look.
Bastard.
I’m so mad that I fume for the rest of the day, wondering why the asshole keeps looking at her like he cares when he clearly doesn’t care that he’s broken her heart.
* * *
I think about my own possible future heartbreak when I hit the salon with Becka and Bryn the next evening. I try to push Ian Sexy Suit Ford out of my mind, but he’s always lingering somewhere in my thoughts. Even as I chat on the phone with another dog walker and send her over on a test walk to see if she works well with Milly.
Now we’re in Brooklyn for the launch. Becka, Jensen, and I run all over the warehouse, helping people with their orders and talking up the use of fabrics, the simple designs, and the custom features on the app. We’re working it for our girl Bryn, and I know she appreciates us being here.
As I busily tend to the customers, I notice through the crowd that Christos stands with his girlfriend beside him. The woman has her hand on his back, but he doesn’t have his hand on hers. Interesting.
I feel flushed when a thought of dating Ian publicly hits me. What would that be like? Instead of dwelling on the topic, I seek out another customer to distract myself.
“I saw these when they were just drawings. I can touch them now,” Becka whispers in amazement as she comes up to my side.
“Better yet, you can wear them.” I wink.
We share a grin, my chest swelling with pride for Bryn. She created her vision from scratch, using determination and hard work. Her success encourages me to chase after my dream.
And what about your sexy Workaholic, Sara? What are you going to do about that?
Shut up, slut. You just want more of that D, I grumble to myself.
“Sara,” Jensen says, motioning to a jumpsuit that is starting to fall from its display.
“I’ll get it.” I look around. I can’t find Bryn anywhere, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here to help and I’m glad that I know exactly what my job is tonight. To be sure nobody leaves without placing an order. Or a thousand.
“Bryn stepped out with Christos,” Becka says.
I glance at the doors—but though Bryn and Christos are outside, business keeps going at a fast rate.
I even end up ordering myself an outfit. Workaholic will love this! I think as I go for something sexy that won’t break my bank, a tiny gold sequin dress that will show off my long, toned legs.
I don’t know what I will wear it for, or when, but I know it’s for stupid sexy him.
It’s a little formal but a lot hot. I fantasize about wearing it for Ian on a night in. I could pad around barefoot in this in his hot-ass townhome. Pantyless and ready to get nailed.
Sara, really, you don’t even know if you’ll say yes to dating!
Or do I?
Ugh. I hate to think that both Ian and I already know my answer.
* * *
Hours later, Bryn is still nowhere to be seen. I spot Christos across the room, checking on everyone and making sure the iPads are working. His girlfriend is by the door with his brother and she seems to have been crying.
I march up to him and ask, “Where’s Bryn?”
“She needed to be alone. I’m staying until the guests leave.”
I purse my lips and shoot him another dark look, then spin around and stomp away. I want to punch him for hurting Bryn, but I slow my steps and consider the expression on his face. He looked, and sounded, miserable. For the first time, I suspect he’s as messed up about things as she is.
I text Bryn to give her an update. For her to leave the way she did, something must have gone really wrong. I ask her if she’s okay.
I’m okay, she texts back.
I know she’s not.
But this isn’t the moment to discuss it. We can do that later. Right now I want things to run smoothly.
Becka is on her fourth glass of champagne, and she’s acting as bubbly as the alcohol she’s imbibing. “He loves her. Why is he marrying that bimbo?” She signals to Miranda, who looks restless as she leaves with Christos’s brother.
“I don’t know. Responsibility, I guess.”
She shrugs and lets out a small hiccup.
I decide I’m going to have to carry both of our weight the rest of the evening and leave her to get back to work.
