by Vi Keeland
“My ex-wife used to write in one of those every once in a while. I’d find her writing in it after we argued. Pretty sure all she did was bitch. Isn’t that mostly what people use that for? To vent?”
“Sometimes they’re like that,” Stella said. She straightened the book in its box and put the top back on. “I’ve gotten a few of those. The seller usually posts some screenshots of pages to give you a sample. That helps me rule out a lot, but occasionally you can’t tell from just a short excerpt.”
“Have you started reading Nico’s secrets?”
“It’s Marco, and yes, I did.”
“Well…how was it?”
Stella sighed. “I read almost half the diary in one night.”
I laughed. “That good, huh?”
She held her hand to her chest. “He’s in love with an older woman. Amalia is nineteen years his senior and the librarian for the small village they live in. He’s a grape farmer. She thinks it’s just infatuation and will pass, but he sounds like he’s head over heels for her. He’s thinking about bringing another woman around, hoping to spark some jealousy to make her admit she has feelings for him, too. But I’m worried it’s going to backfire and push her further away.”
“I think Amelia, or whatever her name is, is probably right. Marco is just a horny kid. It’ll pass. Every young guy’s fantasized about a hot librarian at some point. He’s not in love with her. He’s in lust.”
“You didn’t even read the diary. How can you know how he feels?”
I shrugged. “Most relationships end up in the same place anyway.”
“Someone’s extremely cynical…”
“I’m not cynical; I’m a realist. Even if they get together, what do you think the chances are that a guy at forty isn’t going to be looking elsewhere when his librarian bride is sixty?”
“Not when he loves her as much as Marco loves Amalia.”
I scoffed. “It all starts out as fun and games…”
“Whatever.”
“You said your ex was sleeping with someone else. And yet you still believe in fairytales?”
“Just because I’ve been burned doesn’t mean I don’t believe in love. I was devastated when Aiden and I broke up. It took me a long time to move on and find happiness again. Heck, I’m still working on finding my happiness. But one of the things that keeps my spirits up is to believe we’re all meant to have a happily ever after. Mine just wasn’t supposed to be with Aiden.”
My eyes flashed to hers and then back to the road. “Whatever you say…”
“If you’re so bitter about relationships, why did you ask me out?”
“Do I have to stay celibate just because I don’t think everything ends in hearts and roses?”
“Oh.” She rolled her eyes. “So you just wanted to get laid. I’m glad we cleared that up. I actually prefer to get to know someone and spend time with him, in addition to physical intimacy.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I enjoy spending time with a woman, too. Sometimes we just have different expectations of where things will end up.”
Stella shook her head. “You know what you need? To try my happiness system.”
“Your happiness system?”
Stella nodded. “I know—it needs a better name.”
I grumbled. “I can think of a few.”
“I heard that, but I’m choosing to ignore it. Anyway, when I was struggling and feeling grumpy all the time, I made a list of things that make me happy. Small things—not things that were out of my reach and difficult to accomplish. For example, I try to give someone a compliment every day. That might not seem like much, but it causes you to find something good in at least one person each day. After a while, it helps change your mindset. Another thing I do is set aside ten minutes to meditate each morning. I also watch the sunrise or sunset at least once a week. And I try to do something I’ve never done before every single weekend.”
I smirked. “If you need help doing someone you’ve never done this weekend, just let me know.”
She rolled her eyes. “Something, not someone.”
I chuckled. “Our happiness systems must work a little differently.”
Traffic had lightened up, and we were already halfway to the restaurant. “As riveting as this conversation is, why don’t I fill you in on the network before we get to lunch? We’re going to be at the restaurant soon.”
“I already read up.”
“Okay, then. Tell me what you know.”
Stella proceeded to rattle off facts about the ownership of the network, statistics on the types of products they sold, which were their best- and worst-performing items, and the qualities they looked for in partners. Then she detailed personal and professional information on both the host and co-host. She’d done more homework than I had.
“You’re thorough,” I said.
“Thank you.”
We stopped at a red light, and Stella shifted in her seat. She uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them in the opposite direction. It had been innocent enough, likely done in an effort to get more comfortable since we’d been sitting in the car for a while now, but the way my eyes ogled her bit of exposed thigh was anything but innocent.
Happiness system. A little leg worked for me. Why did women always have to overcomplicate shit?
***
Who was the woman I’d sat next to at lunch?
The same woman who’d spent fifteen minutes telling me all the details of a garage sale she went to at age twelve when all I’d asked was how she’d gotten into reading used diaries, the same woman who’d been sniffing barrels just a few hours ago, had morphed into an astute businesswoman. Rather than ramble on with stories, she listened—really listened—and quickly found the hot button for each of the key players at lunch. Then she subtly steered the conversation to those areas when she spoke. She’d had the network bigwigs eating out of the palm of her hand. Robyn Quinn even invited her to a woman’s leadership luncheon to talk about how she took an idea and made it into an innovative business.
The valet brought my car around first, so I shook hands with the group. Stella got hugs from the women. Once we were back on the road, she looked over at me.
“So…go ahead. Tell me what I did wrong.”
I glanced at her and back to the traffic ahead of me. “Wrong? What makes you think you did something wrong?”
“You’re quiet.”
“So?”
“You usually get all quiet and do this staring-at-me thing before you say something snarky. But you’re driving, so your eyes are stuck on the road.”
“Actually, I was thinking about how well lunch went. You did a great job. I might’ve made the introduction, but you sealed the deal.”
From my peripheral vision, I saw Stella blink a few times.
“Was that…a compliment? Are you giving my happiness system a test run?”
We stopped at a light, so I looked over at her. “Definitely not. Though I am capable of giving them when due.”
Her lips curved to an adorable smile. “I was good, wasn’t I?”
“I already gave you one compliment, let’s not go fishing for another so soon.”
She laughed. “Alright. I guess I’ll take what I can get.”
***
Three days later, my assistant buzzed in to my office. “Jack Sullivan is on the line for you.”
“Thanks, Helena.”
I leaned back in my chair and picked up the phone. “I know I still owe you a beer, but it’s only eight in the morning.”
Jack laughed. “Like we haven’t had beer for breakfast before.”
I smiled. “That was a lot of years ago.”
“Speak for yourself. You didn’t go to Frank’s bachelor party a few months ago.”
I chuckled. “What’s going on?”
“I have some news that should get you big points with your little girlfriend.”
I knew exactly who he was referring to, yet I said, “There’s no woman in my life at the moment. Plus, i
f there was, I wouldn’t need your sorry ass to help me earn points with her.”
“So you must not want to hear the news then…”
“Spit it out, Sullivan. What’s up?”
“There’s good news and bad news. The good news is, the new Steamer-Beamer—some sort of contraption that lets you get the wrinkles out of your clothes while wearing them—caused second-degree burns on one of our producers.”
“Someone you work with got burned? That’s the good news? I hate to hear the bad news.”
“Obviously it’s bad news for that dude. But it’s good news for you. The Home Shopping Channel had to yank the Steamer-Beamer from its scheduled spot, and that means they have an opening for a product with some immediate air time.”
“Oh yeah? Think Signature Scent might have a shot?”
“Better than a shot. Spot’s yours if you can be ready faster than you originally planned.”
The launch was set for nine weeks from now, but we could definitely speed things up a bit if needed. “No problem. When would we need to be ready?”
“That’s the bad news. You’d have to be ready next week.”
“Next week?” I shook my head. “That’s impossible.”
“Well, the show would film then. It would air the following weekend. But they quote two to four weeks for shipping. So you’d have some time to get the goods out the door.”
I blew out a deep breath. “I don’t know if we can move things up that much.”
“Have I mentioned the volume they’re forecasting?”
“No, what are we talking?”
It took a lot to make my jaw drop, but the number that came out of Jack’s mouth left me catching flies.
“Jesus. That’s more than we anticipated selling the entire first year.”
“Women eat up the products they hawk on that channel. Robyn needs an answer within an hour. If you can’t do it, she has a list of anxious people with products who can. So you better figure that shit out.”
CHAPTER 15
Hudson
“Seriously? They think they can sell that many?” Stella sat down, as if the number was too big to digest while standing.
“According to Jack, their sales forecasting is pretty spot-on. They know their audiences and buying power.”
“My God. That’s crazy. But we can’t be ready that soon.”
“Yes, we can!” Olivia chimed in. “We have no choice. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We have to be ready.”
Stella raised a hand to her forehead. “But how? We just ordered some of the products we need, and they’re coming from overseas. Shipping alone is almost two months. We won’t have anything ready next week.”
“Well, we have longer than next week,” I said. “The show would film next week, but air the following Saturday. Then they allow two to four weeks for shipping. So we could stretch it before we’d have to start moving products out the door. We’d either have to expedite the stuff we’re missing—put them on a plane instead of a slow boat. Or find suppliers locally to start shipping until the full stock comes in. Maybe both.”
Stella shook her head. “That’ll all be really expensive.”
“We could increase the price point to help make it up,” Olivia said.
Stella looked skeptical. “I don’t know. Perfume is really price sensitive when you aren’t a well-known brand or don’t have a celebrity endorsement.”
“The shopping channel sells their products on a three-payment plan,” Olivia said. “So items aren’t as price sensitive as they normally are. Something that’s fifty-nine ninety-nine might be hard to swallow, but when it becomes three easy payments of nineteen ninety-nine, it’s a lot more palatable for a consumer.”
“Well, if you guys think we could make it work, it’s obviously an incredible opportunity,” Stella said. “Maybe we could spend the next day or so figuring out what it would take to make it happen?”
I shook my head. “We don’t have a day. They need an answer sooner.”
“How much sooner?” Stella asked.
I looked down at my watch. “We have about fifty minutes left.”
***
We reconvened in the conference room five minutes before I was supposed to call Jack back with a decision. Stella tossed a legal pad with shit scribbled all over it on the table.
“I can get half of what we need expedited from local suppliers, with the exception of two items—calone and ambrette. The price is much higher, but if we buy in bulk, it’s not actually as terrible as I thought it would be. And the lab is available to mix ingredients as soon as the orders come in. With that kind of volume, it might take us a few days to fill orders, but it’s doable within the turnaround time.”
I nodded. “I can get the two items you can’t source locally flown in with very little price difference by increasing the order size.” We both looked to Olivia.
She smiled. “The printer said he can run the presses all night, if he has to. He just needs twenty-four-hours’ notice for staffing, and of course, our finalized PDF files, which aren’t ready, but can be shortly. And the website is a non-issue. There are some cosmetic things the team was working on, but we could go live in an hour if we needed to.”
Stella couldn’t hide the excitement on her face. “Oh my God, are we really going to do this?”
“Looks like it,” I said. “Though I forgot to mention one small detail.”
“What?”
“They want you on camera to sell the product with Robyn.”
Her eyes widened. “Me? On camera? I’ve never done that before.”
“Guess there’s a first time for everything.” I smirked. “You’ll get to make good use of your happiness system.”
***
“She’s fucking hot.”
Jack’s head moved in tandem with Stella’s legs as she walked out onto the stage. She bent so the sound guy could hook up her microphones, and I didn’t give him a chance to say anything more.
My jaw flexed. “Don’t be disrespectful, you dick.”
He scoffed. “What? Like you weren’t looking at her ass just now?”
I didn’t answer.
“Nice rack, too.”
A noise gurgled from my throat.
Jack turned with a knowing smirk plastered on his face. “Did you just growl at me?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Admit it. You don’t want me looking because you like her. You’re already territorial about this chick.”
“This chick? Is it nineteen eighty-five here in the studio? Do you refer to your employees like that?”
“Stop deflecting. You like this woman, and you know it.”
Jack might be vice president of a big company now, but parts of him were eternally stuck in sixth grade. I knew if I didn’t give him something, he’d never shut the hell up.
So I tried to pacify him. “She’s turned out to be a hard worker and a nice person, yes.”
“So you don’t think she’s hot?”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s attractive, yes.”
“But you don’t want to bang her?”
“Stella and I have a business relationship.”
“Oh…so it’s the business relationship that’s the problem? So if you weren’t in business with her, you’d be trying to bang her?”
“I’m done with this conversation.”
Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Okay. So you don’t mind if I bring Brent down to meet her, then?”
“Brent?”
“Fenway. You remember him from college, right? Tall, good-looking—probably the only one who gave you a run for your money back in the day. He works here now. Looks the same, except more jacked. Still single…”
My friend thought he was being cute, as if I wouldn’t give him a set of black eyes to match my fading ones. “Fuck off,” I said.
He grinned. “That’s what I thought.”
A little while later, Jack looked at his watch. “I have a meet
ing. You hanging around for the taping?”
“Yeah. Olivia couldn’t be here, so I told her I’d stick it out.”
“They’re probably going to be a few hours.”
I held up my phone. “I have plenty to do to keep me busy.”
He stood and clapped my shoulder. “I’m sure you do. But I’d bet my bank account you don’t take your eyes off that stage.”
***
It was a good thing I hadn’t taken that bet—not that I would’ve ever admitted I’d spent the last three fucking hours watching Stella’s every move on the stage. When Jack had told me they wanted Stella on-air, a part of me wasn’t sure that was a wise business move. Sure, she was gorgeous and the camera would probably love her, but she had no experience. Though after sitting around the last few hours and watching her, I completely understood what the host had seen that made her want Stella to be part of the pitch.
She was passionate and funny, and had an innocent quality that made you believe everything she said up there—as if she were too wholesome to lie. Hell, I wanted to buy the freaking perfume, and I owned part of the company.
A little after five o’clock, they finally wrapped shooting. Stella talked to the host and crew for a while, then turned to look out into the audience. She cupped her hands over her brows, shielding her eyes from the overhead light. Finding me still sitting in the fourth row back, she smiled and headed to the stairs at the side of the stage. I stood and walked down the aisle to meet her.
“Oh my God,” she said. “That was so much fun!”
“You looked like you were having a good time.”
“I hope I don’t come off as a weirdo.” She held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. “I felt…like I’d been electrocuted or something. Not in a cook-your-organs way, but like a nonstop jolt of energy racing through my body.”
I laughed. “You did great—entertaining, yet sincere.” I turned at the sound of the stage door behind us opening and closing. Jack was back, and the fucker wasn’t alone. I was going to kick his scrawny ass.
He walked over, sporting the biggest, gloating smile. “Hudson, you remember Brent, right?”
