by Vi Keeland
“Does the business owe anyone money or have existing investors?” I asked.
“No. No debt at all. I had one partner who had invested funds, but I bought him out last year.”
“So the two-hundred-and-twenty-five grand you’ve put into it so far… That came from…?”
“My savings.”
I guess the skepticism showed on my face, because she added, “I made a hundred-and-ten thousand as the senior chemist in my last job. It took me six years of saving and turning the small office in my apartment into a bedroom and taking on roommates. But I put away almost half of my net income every year.”
Impressed again, I nodded. Half the people who presented before us had gotten handouts from Mommy and Daddy, or owed a big chunk of money before they even got up and running. I had to give her credit for the perseverance it took to get this far. Though I wouldn’t be giving her that credit aloud.
When Stella got to the demonstration part of her presentation, I could tell my sister was already familiar with everything. She basically acted like her sidekick, helping Stella sell the product. They seemed to jell really well, and one picked up where the other left off. Olivia added anecdotal comments about how much all of her friends loved their creations. At one point, the two of them were laughing, and I found myself watching Stella, focusing on the pulse in her neck. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off the damn thing. Olivia glanced over and gave me a funny look.
“So what do you think?” My sister asked after the presentation was over. “Isn’t it an amazing product?”
A strong murmur went around the room, each of my staff nodding and giving some sort of praise. The marketing manager talked about the profitability of the perfume industry and how much beauty supplies sold in general. For the most part, I remained quiet, until my sister looked at me.
“Hudson? What do you think?”
“The concept is interesting enough. Though I’m not sold on the idea that rating some smelling samples and completing an online survey equates to consistently making a product the consumer will like.”
“Well, I love mine,” Olivia said. “And the seven women in my bridal party all went crazy over theirs.”
Stella turned and looked at me. “Would you like to give it a test run yourself? Perhaps have a woman in your life try it out.”
My sister snorted. “Should he have his cleaning lady or his six-year-old daughter test it out?”
I scowled at Olivia.
“Actually,” Stella said, “he can try it out himself.”
“I’m not really much of a perfume wearer. But thanks.”
“I didn’t mean you had to put it on. You know what smells you like and which ones you don’t, right? If you go to the perfume counter at a store, you smell a bunch of samples until you find the one that appeals to you. Signature Scent just skips the unnecessary steps. If you go through the process, the scent I create for you should be appealing enough that you would’ve bought it in the store for a woman.” She shrugged. “Men like perfume as much as women. They just don’t spray it on themselves.”
As much as I thought her presentation had gone well, and she had a good product and unique marketing, I wasn’t sure she was a person I wanted to partner with. Something didn’t sit right, even without considering the wedding fiasco, or that she seemed to be the star of my pathetically frequent showers lately. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Though my sister would drive me nuts if I didn’t have a legitimate business reason to decline investing, so perhaps this sampling could be my out.
Standing, I buttoned my jacket. “Fine. Give me a kit, and we’ll see how this pans out.”
Olivia clapped her hands like it was already a done deal. I gave her a warning glare not to get her hopes up, which she, of course, ignored.
“I have a meeting to get to,” I lied.
Stella stood. She motioned to the crap all over the table. “I’ll put this sample box back together before I go and leave you a copy of the questions that will be up on the website.”
“Sounds good.”
As I went to walk out, Stella called after me. “Mr. Rothschild?”
I turned back to find her again extending her hand. “Thank you for your time. I really appreciate you considering this, especially with the way things started out between us.”
I looked down at her hand and back to her face before shaking. “Good luck to you, Evelyn.”
CHAPTER 9
Stella
I couldn’t get over the letter in my hands.
Ten days had passed since my presentation at Rothschild Investments. Like I’d promised, I’d left the sample kit behind for Hudson. The following day, Olivia had called to let me know she made sure he completed everything, and she messaged me over his ratings and completed survey. When the package arrived, I was floored to find it also included a ton of gorgeous graphics Olivia had gotten her marketing department to mock up. She’d even created a few catchy taglines I thought would be perfect on the outside of the custom boxes I still needed to have made.
I’d called to thank her, and we spent almost two hours on the phone talking about all of our ideas. We’d also talked a half a dozen times since then. Her excitement was palpable, but after the last few letdowns I’d suffered with my financing, I was trying not to get my hopes up again—though Olivia made it impossible.
When we’d spoken two days ago, she told me she’d received the perfume I’d created for Hudson. He’d been traveling for business, but she’d placed it on his chair and left him a note, so he’d see it as soon as he returned. Her husband’s father had to have emergency heart surgery, so Olivia was leaving for California for a week, but she’d said she wanted to get together when she got back.
I’d honestly been lulled into thinking Rothschild Investments was a done deal, which was why the letter I’d just read for the second time still shocked me.
Dear Ms. Bardot,
Thank you very much for your interest in working with Rothschild Investments. While your product was impressive, we regretfully must advise you that we will not be able to extend an offer at this time. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.
Sincerely yours,
Hudson Rothschild
Disappointment was an understatement for what I felt. Again.
Still shocked, I reread the letter once more. I didn’t want to call Olivia and ask what had happened since she was dealing with her father-in-law’s health. Besides, Hudson had been the one to sign the letter, and if I had to wait a full week until she got back, I’d climb the walls. So I decided to call Hudson directly. I needed to at least find out what had made them change their minds, because I knew for certain it wasn’t the perfume I’d created for him.
My fingers shook as I punched in his number on my cell. The cheery receptionist answered on the first ring.
“Good afternoon. Rothschild Investments. How may I direct your call?”
“Hi. May I speak to Hudson Rothschild, please?”
“Let me put you through to see if he’s available.”
I held for a minute until a voice I recognized as Helena, his assistant, answered. I’d met her on the two occasions I’d visited the office. She’d been super friendly and loved the idea of Signature Scent.
“Hi, Helena. This is Stella Bardot. Is it possible to speak to Hudson?”
“Hi, Stella. He just came back from a meeting. I think he has a lull in his schedule, but let me double-check if he’s available.”
She came back on the line thirty seconds later. Her voice wasn’t as upbeat.
“I’m…sorry, Stella. He’s on another line. Can I have him call you back?”
Something told me he wasn’t on the phone, and he’d told her to blow me off. But I was upset, so that could have just been my paranoia.
“Yes, of course.”
I left her my business phone number and waited patiently. But no return call came. So the following afternoon, I called and again got Helena. This time whe
n she told me Hudson was unavailable, I blew out a frustrated breath.
“Would you let him know I just need two minutes of his time? I’m sure he’s very busy, but it won’t take long.”
“Sure, I’ll let him know. Is everything okay?”
“Not really.” I sighed. “I received the letter he sent me declining to invest in Signature Scent, and I wanted to ask him the reason. The letter didn’t say, and if nothing else, I want to learn from it.”
“Oh wow. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware.”
That was interesting. I would’ve expected his assistant to be the one who’d typed it up. “I don’t want to be a pain. I’d just like a few minutes of his time.”
“I’ll pass along the message. And I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Stella. I was really looking forward to this one.”
“Thanks, Helena.”
That day, I tried to keep myself busy. But I checked my phone a dozen or more times. By six that evening, I’d all but given up hope—until my phone rang while I was out for a run. I wiped my hands on my shorts and answered, panting.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Stella. It’s Helena.”
“Hi, Helena.”
“I’m sorry Hudson didn’t call you back. He was, uh, busy today. I passed along your message, and he told me to let you know the reason he decided not to go forward with the investment was because he didn’t care for the sample he received. It made him uncertain of the product, I guess.”
“Oh, I see.” That was complete bullshit. Because I’d made him the same scent I’d been wearing the night of Olivia’s wedding. And he’d told me twice how good I smelled. A few weeks ago, I’d been ready to give up and accept putting everything on hold for a long time. But I no longer felt ready to accept defeat. All of my planning talks with Olivia had gotten me too pumped up to let it go so easily this time. I wanted to give it one last-ditch attempt since I knew he was lying about the reason.
“Do you think it would be possible to make an appointment to speak to Hudson in person?”
Helena’s voice lowered. It sounded like she might be cupping the receiver so no one would hear. “I don’t want to get in trouble, but I’ll be honest, I think if I ask him, he’s going to say no.”
I sighed. “Okay, thanks, Helena. I get what you’re saying.”
“But…I’ve worked for Hudson for a long time now. His bark is much worse than his bite. Now, if you were to just show up… He might not have a choice. And he does respect people who fight hard for what they want.”
I smiled sadly. “Thanks, Helena. I appreciate the advice. I’ll give it some thought.”
***
The next morning I arrived at Rothschild Investments at 8AM. “Hi. Is Hudson Rothschild in?”
The receptionist smiled. “He is. Do you have an appointment?”
I took a deep breath. “I don’t. But I only need two minutes of his time. Would it be possible to get in to see him?”
“Let me see. What’s your name, and what is this in reference to?”
“Stella Bardot, and it’s in reference to Signature Scent.”
She picked up the phone, and I listened to one side of the conversation.
“Hi, Mr. Rothschild. I have Stella Bardot here to see you regarding Signature Scent. She doesn’t have an appoint—”
He’d definitely cut her off. I heard the boom of his deep voice through her headset, though I couldn’t make out what he was saying. But when her face fell, I knew it wasn’t a good sign.
“Umm…okay…would you like me to tell her that?” A pause and then she raised her eyes to meet mine. “Okay. Thank you.”
She clicked a button on her keyboard and gave me a discouraging smile. “Mr. Rothschild said, ‘If you have nothing better to do with your time, take a seat.’ If he finds a spare two minutes in his busy day, he’ll see you.” She grimaced. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine—don’t shoot the messenger and all.”
She motioned to the waiting area. “Would you like me to get you some coffee while you wait?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay. I’m Ruby. If you change your mind, just let me know.”
“Thanks, Ruby.”
I sat down on the couch and took out my phone to catch up on emails. My instinct told me I was going to be sitting here for a while. I had a feeling Hudson would enjoy making me wait.
And I wasn’t wrong.
Three hours later, the receptionist came out from behind the desk and walked over to me.
“I just wanted to let you know, I called back and reminded him, to make sure he hadn’t forgotten you.”
I smirked. “And how did that go?”
She laughed and looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was around. “He was sort of snippy.”
“I bet. But it’s okay.” I waved to the glass coffee table in front of me. “At least you have all these great magazines.”
By five o’clock, I figured he was going to make me stalk him on his way out of the office, just to be a jerk. While I’d debated leaving after the first hour or two this morning, I now had so much time invested, there was no way I was giving in. I popped in my earbuds, settled back into the couch, and turned on some classical music to relax. I was going to outlast Hudson if it killed me. But at 5:30, the receptionist came back over.
She frowned. “I’m getting ready to leave, so I called back to Mr. Rothschild again. He said to let you know it turned out he didn’t have two minutes to spare today.”
What a bastard. That had been his game plan all along—make me waste the entire day. Well, lucky for me, I had no job and no place to go. So rather than get upset, I decided to dig in. I stood and lifted my pocketbook to my shoulder.
“Could you let Mr. Rothschild know I’ll be back again tomorrow? Perhaps he’ll be able to spare the two minutes then.”
The receptionist’s eyebrows jumped, yet she smiled. “Sure thing.”
The following day I came more prepared. I brought my laptop, some snacks, a charger for my cell, and my to-do list. When the morning went by again, and Hudson still couldn’t find a couple of minutes to speak to me, at least I’d knocked off a bunch of things from my list and cleaned out my emails—two things that were long overdue.
In the afternoon, I updated my resume and uploaded more than a thousand pictures from my phone to a storage website and organized them. I then spent an hour and a half online planning a dream vacation I could never afford—picking out luxury hotels and a private, captained sailboat to get me between the Greek Islands I wanted to explore. Again at 5:30, the receptionist came over.
“Good news. I think…”
“Oh?”
“I just called back and told him I was leaving and you were still here.” She shrugged. “He didn’t tell me to ask you to leave.”
I chuckled because I’d clearly lost my mind now. “So I should wait?”
She pointed to the glass doors. “He has to walk out that door sometime…”
I nodded. “Okay. Have a good night, Ruby.”
“You, too, Stella. Hopefully I won’t see you sitting here tomorrow.”
I smiled. “I hope not, too.”
By 6:45, I’d watched most of the staff at Rothschild Investments leave, and a cleaning crew walked in and started to vacuum around me. I’d taken a break from dream vacation planning to text with Fisher for a while. When I was done, I again opened my laptop and went back to vacay-planning mode. Mykonos was the last island I still needed to find the perfect hotel on. As I sifted through photos of the incredible scenery, trying to decide if I wanted to be on the north or south side of the island, I must’ve become engrossed in what I was doing.
Suddenly, a deep voice scared the crap out of me, and I jumped from my seat. My laptop went flying to the floor, and my hand flew to my chest. “You scared me to death.”
Hudson shook his head. “I should’ve just walked out the door. You wouldn’t have even noticed.” He bent and picked up my laptop, which luckily wa
s still illuminated and not broken. Looking at the screen, he said, “Going on a vacation to the Greek islands? Good business plan. Have fun at…” He squinted. “The Royal Myconian. Looks expensive.”
I snatched my laptop from his hands. “I’m dream vacation planning, not actually going.”
Though he didn’t quite smile, I could’ve sworn the corner of his lip twitched. Hudson pushed up the sleeve of his suit jacket, revealing a big, chunky watch. While I felt like punching the arrogant bastard for making me sit here for two days, I couldn’t help but notice how sexy the damn watch looked on his masculine wrist. Shaking my head, I tamped down that feeling.
“Two minutes,” Hudson said, folding his arms across his chest. “Go.”
For the next hundred-and-twenty seconds, I rambled on—telling him I wanted to know the real reason he’d decided to decline investing, because it couldn’t possibly be that he didn’t like the scent I’d created. I even told him it was the same one he’d told me twice that he liked—once at Olivia’s wedding and then again at his office when I’d come to pick up my cell phone. Then, for some insane reason, I started going into detail about the samples he’d rated and the chemicals I’d used… Somehow my diatribe morphed into a science lesson. I don’t think I took a breath or used any punctuation during the entire two minutes I speed-talked.
When I finally shut up, Hudson stared at me. “Are you finished?”
“I guess so.”
He gave a curt nod. “Have a good evening.” Then he turned and walked toward the door.
I blinked a few times, sure he couldn’t possibly be just leaving. But when he got to the door and pushed it open, it became apparent that was exactly what the jerk was doing. So I yelled after him. “Where are you going? I’ve been waiting for two days to have this conversation.”
With his hand on the door, he didn’t look back as he spoke. “You asked for two minutes. I gave them to you. The cleaning people will lock up after you leave.”
