The exposure from this project could send my business into the stratosphere.
I finally replied to Anna's email just before lunch telling her that I was still interested. She sent me a message back almost immediately inviting me to meet with Mr. Lannen at two o'clock.
As I trail one of Mr. Lannen's assistants toward a bank of elevators my gaze catches on a group of workers huddled around a marble column. They're putting the finishing touches on the remodel of the building and hopefully I'll be showcasing all of their hard work by creating an environment that will convince people to open their wallets and pack their belongings so they can call The Beryl home.
Landing this job will make me a household name in this city. My face will be recognizable and my business will explode. This meeting that I'm going to have with Mr. Lannen will be the most important of my life.
I take a deep breath, smile at his assistant and follow him into the barren show suite once we exit the lift. Mr. Lannen is standing in front of a wall of windows. His back is to me, his phone next to his ear. This is it. As soon as he's done, he's going to change the entire trajectory of my life.
Chapter 8
Brynn
"You know that I'm a Bishop?" I furrow my brow. "How do you know that?"
Cooper Lannen chuckles. "Julian told me all about your design business when he toured one of our other projects a year ago. I commended him on the seamless opening of the Bishop Hotel on Fifth Avenue. I mentioned how much I loved the interior design and he told me that you'd had a hand in that."
I had more of a pinky finger than an entire hand in that.
Julian hired one of the design firms who he's worked with for years to handle the interiors of the hotel rooms and the lobby. The building itself has so much rich architectural history that it made the job of the design team simple. They played off the hotel's innate charm to create rooms that are elegant and sophisticated.
My one and only role on that job was to oversee the area rugs in the lobby.
I may not have put my stamp on the space, but it was a notable addition to my portfolio.
"So, as I was saying." He pockets his phone. He took another short call after telling me I had the job. I was grateful when his phone rang. It gave me the minute I needed to swallow back the rush of emotion I felt bearing down on me. By the time he ended his call, I was back in control, or at least I appeared to be. My heart is still racing. I can practically hear its beat in my ears. "I talked it over with my kids and we all agreed that your pitch stood out from the rest and I need to say I respect the fact that you don't depend on your surname professionally. Your father has a lot to be proud of when it comes to you."
He might be. I wouldn't know. We don't talk business.
"My children are taking over the business next fall." He shakes his head and looks past me at the blank canvas that I'll soon transform into the show suite that a broker will use as an integral part of the marketing campaign to sell out the building. "It's not easy for me to hand the reins of my life's work over to those three."
I don't know any of them. I've read about Mr. Lannen's children, but that was only because I wanted to understand the full scope of the business. Each of his two daughters heads a specific division within the company and his son is in charge of international acquisitions. Even though Sonya Lannen runs the residential developments, her dad took the lead on this building. I can see why. Cooper's proud of The Beryl. That's evident in the care he's taking with its launch.
"I can't imagine how that must feel, Mr. Lannen," I admit. "I don't have any children."
"They're more trouble than they're worth." He hides a smile behind his fingers as he touches his gray beard. "I love my kids but not enough to give them control of this building. This is my last hurrah and you're just the girl to help send me off into retirement in style."
I know I am. I'm going to kick ass so hard on this project that when his children are in the market for an interior designer in the future, Brynn Janie Interiors, will be the only name on their list.
***
"I think I have to find a new gym to work out at," I mutter as Adley and I sit down on a bench in Central Park.
It's her lunch hour and since I'm not meeting the contractor I hired to help me with the closet in Mrs. Pentlow's bedroom for another two hours, I thought we could spend the next sixty minutes gossiping our way through a quick meal of a sandwich and lemonade.
I'm fast tracking the Pentlow project now that I've landed the job at The Beryl. I've been over the moon since yesterday. I even skipped my session at the gym to go out for a celebratory Bellini after my meeting with Cooper.
I eyed up the pub across the street from the gym and headed to their outdoor patio instead of to the treadmill I usually devote my late afternoons to. My ass might not thank me, but the rest of me enjoyed my mini-celebration even if I did spot Smith going into the gym just as I took the first sip of my drink.
"Why? I thought you liked that gym?" She takes a generous bite of her turkey and avocado on grain bread and chews.
"Do you remember when I told you about Smith Booth?" I look down at the untouched pastrami on rye in my lap. I skipped breakfast again today, even though Sydney had scrambled some eggs before she left for work. She gave half to me and after I'd picked at it for a full fifteen minutes, I pushed the plate away. I've had zero appetite since Smith reappeared in my life.
"The guy from Rise and Shine?" She finally asks after she swallows. "He's so hot, Brynn. Like holy hell hot."
"He's not that hot," I say quickly.
"Lie to yourself if you want, but he's got that certain something going for him." She shakes her head and blows out a puff of air. "If you weren't secretly crazy about him, I'd ask you to introduce me."
"I'm not secretly crazy about him." I roll my eyes. Everything I've told Adley about Smith is related to why I can't stand him. I needed to get all the anger and pent up frustration I was feeling off my chest after I spotted him on one of the massive screens in Times Square a few months ago. He was conducting an interview on the cable newscast he used to anchor. I blurted out who he was and why I hated him. Adley stood silently next to me repeatedly nodding as I sobbed my way through my past with Smith Booth.
She washes down another bite of her sandwich with a sip of lemonade. "You know what they say about the thin line between love and hate."
"Who are they and what do they say?"
"They are people who have fallen in love with their sworn enemy." She throws her arm around my shoulder. "It's true though, Brynn, love and hate come from the same place in your heart. You had a crush on this guy and then he crushed your dreams. Maybe you need to face him, give him the shit he deserves and see what happens."
"He acts like he doesn't remember what he did to me." I pick up half of my sandwich before I place it back down on the paper napkin in my lap. "It pisses me off. I wanted that brownstone. He knew it and he still went ahead and bought it."
"Brynn." She softens her voice. "I know that house meant a lot to you, but your grandma would totally get what happened. She wouldn't want you to carry this hurt around with you. I never met her, but I'd bet a hundred dollars that she'd tell you it's time to let it go."
I wish more than anything I could hear my grandma say those words to me.
"You bought a kick ass apartment. You're making a name for yourself in this town. She'd be super proud of you."
"I hope that she'd be," I mutter.
She sighs heavily. "If you forgive Smith, you'll feel better about all of this. I guarantee it. You'll be able to look at him and not want to strangle him."
Forgiving Smith feels impossible, even if a part of me is wildly attracted to him. Since Adley is in the mood to hand out advice, I make a confession. "The other day at the gym, Smith was about to kiss me."
"What did you say?" Her hand squeezes my shoulder so tightly I wince. I won't be surprised if her fingernails tear a hole in the white blouse I'm wearing. "You didn't mention that. Why the
hell did you not tell me that?"
I glance at her. Her face is lit up in a full smile. "It's not a big deal. I was trying to work out. He walked in and started to lean down to kiss me and then…"
"And then what?" She pats my jean covered knee with her fingers. "Tell me what happened next."
"His lover walked in and gave him hell," I reply with a roll of my eyes. "End of story."
"That's not the end of the story, Brynn." She moves to grab her sandwich. "I think your story with Smith is just beginning."
She's wrong. Whatever happened at the gym between Smith and I was a one-time thing. I doubt he'll ever try and kiss me again. Even if he does, I'll resist. I think I will. Won't I?
Chapter 9
Smith
Brooklyn is where I belong. This is where I put down roots when I came back to New York City. The energy here rivals Manhattan, but the pace is slower, the street art vibrant and the people here aren't all in a rush to run over each other to grab the brass ring.
Sure, competition is still a thing in the neighborhood I live in, but the mom and pop shops that line the streets are each unique in their own way. I should know. I've stopped to talk to hundreds of people who live and work here. A few of them will become the focus of an upcoming feature I'm doing on the show about the lives of Brooklynites.
"Smith?" Mrs. Denson, the woman who owns the bakery next door to my building, taps me on the shoulder as I walk into her shop. "I baked a half loaf of that wheat bread you love. You want it now, son?"
I smile as I lean down to kiss her cheek. "Pack that up and a couple of those sugar donuts Mavis loves."
"Mavis doesn't deserve you, you know that?" She drawls in her thick Brooklyn accent as she rounds the counter to get my order. "I told her yesterday that you're never going to propose. Do you know what she said to me?"
I laugh as I pull out a few bills from my wallet. "What?"
She carefully places two freshly made sugar donuts in a small brown paper bag. "She asked if I remembered Tommy from around the way."
"Tommy?" I perk a brow.
"Back in the day, Mavis and Tommy had a thing." She pats the top of my hand. "Years before you were born, dear."
"What happened to Tommy?"
She leans one elbow on the glass display case that's holding dozens of pastries baked in the cramped kitchen in the back. "Who knows? I told Mavis he'd never marry her but he popped the question and a month later, poof, he was gone."
"Gone?" I swallow hard. "He died?"
She throws her head back in laughter, the gray hair framing her face moving with the motion. "Nah, but I should have killed him myself for running off with Loretta Jansen. Last I heard he was living somewhere in Ohio."
I know I should take off, but Leona Denson's stories are too good to pass up.
"He broke Mavis's heart." She mimes cracking her own heart apart in front of her chest. "I'll never forgive him for that."
I rub my chest. "I won't break her heart."
"I know, son." She pushes the clear bag containing the half loaf of bread at me. "You love my sister almost as much as I do."
"You're right." I turn to leave. "Thanks for the bread and donuts. Keep the change."
She looks down at the bills on the counter. "You're too good to me, Smith. I'll see you the day after tomorrow."
She will. Just like clockwork, I bring Mavis a donut every two days. My elderly neighbor looks forward to it almost as much as I do.
***
"So we're going to pretend like we don't know each other?" I swipe a white hand towel over my bare chest. "How long do you think you can ignore me, Brynn?"
She doesn't look my way. She completely disregards every word I just said and keeps up her pace on that damned treadmill she seems attached to. I had my eyes glued to it for the past hour. When she waltzed into the gym, dressed in a pair of bright red yoga shorts and a matching sports bra, I almost pounced on her. I didn't. I kept lifting, my eyes glued to her.
I watched as she stretched before starting on the treadmill. She worked her way up to a full run within minutes and hasn't slowed since.
Her high ponytail bounces as she keeps her gaze on a guy with a shaved head deadlifting little more than a hundred pounds. I could do that with one arm tied behind my back. I have, actually. I did just that on Rise and Shine on my second day on air. I know what hikes the ratings and me, shirtless, is one approach that works to drive the show's numbers up.
"Fine," I say on a huff. "Listen while I talk."
She keeps up the fast pace. Her flawless legs moving gracefully as she nears the five-mile mark.
"I don't have anything going on with Caprice." I decide to start there because I want her to know that I'm not a guy who kisses one woman when he's regularly fucking another. "We hooked up but I didn't make her any promises. I set her straight the other day when we left the gym. Nothing's going to happen between the two of us again."
She straightens her shoulders, her back arching slightly.
I doubt like hell she even cares about Caprice. It's not like Brynn has given me a signal that she wants anything to do with me.
I shake my head. I need to say it. If I say it now, she'll understand where I'm coming from. We can put the embarrassment she felt when she was a teenager behind us and start over.
I want that fresh start. I need it. I spent more than an hour yesterday telling Mavis about Brynn. She said that as much as she wishes she was forty years younger, she wants me to be happy and Brynn sounds like the woman to make it happen. I'm not convinced of that. I'm attracted to her but goddammit this woman hates the fuck out of me right now.
"I'm sorry, Brynn," I say it loud enough that I know she can hear it over the incessant hum of the machine. "I fucked up. I never meant to hurt you. Forgive me. Please."
She slows. She finally slows to a fast walk before she takes the tempo down even more. It's then that she looks at me.
Her expression is impassive. Her eyes scan my face looking for something. It might be more details, but I'm not going to drag up the past to humiliate her. We both know what happened that night.
I was in the kitchen of the apartment Julian had bought right before his birthday. We'd graduated from college a few months before, but our partying days weren't behind us. Julian reached out to a few guys he still hung out with from school and told them to bring whoever the hell they wanted. The alcohol was on his dime so the party grew and Brynn, who showed up unexpectedly with a friend from high school, ducked into the kitchen to steal another splash of vodka for her orange juice.
I caught her. I took the bottle away from her, she slurred out a few sentences about me being a big bully before her words and the look on her face shifted to something else.
She reached up, grabbed my shoulders, leaned in and closed her eyes.
I admit I considered kissing her.
She was seventeen.
I was twenty-two.
Taya Morgan was in the next room waiting for me. She was my girlfriend at the time.
I called a car service and when I stood on the curb outside the building watching Brynn and her friend drive away, I felt like shit. She was one month, two days and ten minutes away from being eighteen. She was also the younger sister of my best friend.
I was a lifetime away from understanding what I let slip through my fingers that night.
She steps off the treadmill and stands in front of me. The angles of her face may have changed since that night and her brow has softened, but she's just as beautiful now as she was then.
"You're actually sorry for what you did?" Her gaze drifts over my chest before it lands on my face. "Do you know how much it hurt me, Smith?"
"I do," I admit on a sigh. "I never meant to cause you pain, Petal. I need you to know that."
She bites her bottom lip as she studies my face. "You stole my dream, Smith. You just took it and stomped all over it."
I don't know what to say. I've thought about that night from time-to-time, but over
the years it became a distant memory. When I found out from Julian that Brynn was planning her wedding, I admit I considered reaching out to her to see if any of the sparks that were there that night still existed. I dropped the thought from my mind as soon as I realized that her happiness isn't something I want to fuck around with.
If kissing me was her dream, I'm about to make it a reality.
"I tried to right my wrong the other day. I'm going to do it now." I reach down and grab her hip, pulling her closer.
"How are you going to right your wrong?" She whispers as she looks up at me with those intense blue eyes. "Some things can't be fixed."
I run my tongue over my top lip. "Let me try and fix this."
I lean down, anticipation coursing through my body. My dick stiffens. My senses shift to high alert. I smell the soft scent of her perfume, catch a quick glimpse of her pebbled nipples under her sports bra and I swear she moans when I cup the back of her neck with my palm.
"Do you really think a kiss will fix this, Smith?"
It's a start. We're both adults now, so a nice long fuck will chase the bad memories away, but I'm a gentleman.
Kiss first. Fuck second.
"You've wanted to kiss me for eight years," I whisper against the shell of her ear. "I've wanted it too."
She pushes hard against my chest with both hands, separating us instantly. "I've wanted to kiss you for eight years? Says who?"
"You?" I shrug. She plays the part of the wounded heroine like an Oscar winner. "You wanted me when you were a teenager. You want me now. Nothing's changed. "
"What?" She mutters under her breath, her hands leaping up to cover her face. "What the hell?"
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