Page 13 of Paradise in Progress
Me: I GOT THE ST. LUCIA PROJECT
Olivia: Go, big sis!
Me: I’m heading into the office now. I still can’t believe it.
Olivia: Did you dress your best to rub it in Golden Boy’s face?
Me: *Smirking emoji* oh little sis, you know I did.
Olivia: *three laughing emojis* I love you! Go crush it, sis! I’m going back to sleep for a few.
Me: OMG I totally forgot how early it was in Arizona. Love you! Miss your face.
Pulling up outside Nelson Signature, I splurged this morning and took an Uber instead of the train. I didn’t want to risk anyone spilling something on my dress. After thanking the driver, I send him a tip and rating as I exit the silver sedan. The streets bustle with people rushing to their jobs. Sounds of horns honking and sirens fill the air while a cold, winter breeze can be felt even through my wool trench coat.
I’m greeted by one of the security guards as I walk through the revolving doors, and I raise my badge like I do every morning. The sun’s rays cascade through the pristine lobby, reflecting off the shiny, white marble floors, where my black stilettos click and the silk fabric of my dress kisses my ankles with every step. Rolling my shoulders backward, I hold my head high, emitting the pride I’m feeling. It helps that I’m wearing my favorite dress, the dress I wear when I’m feeling my most confident.
I still cannot believemypitch won. Giddiness seeps through my veins, and I can’t fight the grin that has been so desperate to break free.
There’s a line waiting at the elevator, and I step behind the last gentleman who I’ve seen before. I think he’s in finance on the sixteenth floor. He watches my approach, trailing his gaze from my feet to my face in a slow perusal. The metal doors slide open and Mr. Finance steps to the side, holding the door open as I enter the crammed car as people make room for us.
“Which floor?” his deep voice asks from beside me.
“Fifty-third, please.”
With a nod, he clicks the button for my floor and his, which I was right in assuming he was one of the finance guys.
He turns his attention back to me, his navy-sleeved arm brushing against mine, and I take in his chiseled jaw and fine-line wrinklesaround his eyes that crinkle when he smiles. “Ah, you’re one of Nelson’s. How is it on top?”
I quirk an eyebrow and feel my cheeks flame at the innuendo. “Well, I’m on their third floor, so not quite the top.”
“With legs like that, I thought you’d be one of Nelson’s girls. He always has the prettiest assistants.” I cringe at his backhanded compliment and his implication that I could only be an assistant.
“You’re looking at one of our top architects, Baldwin,” a voice I instantly recognize calls from the back.
Looking over my shoulder, I find none other than Tristan Nelson standing in the back of the car. His jaw is set tight as he eyes the gentleman—if I could even call him that—to my right.
Mr. Finance chuckles as a smarmy grin quirks the corner of his mouth. Onlookers watch the showdown between the two beefy suits. “Oh look, if itisn’ta Nelson. Say, how is it slumming it with the commoners instead of sitting in royalty like the rest of the men in your family?”
Energy shifts in the tight space as I shift on my heels uncomfortably. “Jealousy looks bad on you, Baldwin. Still upset we didn’t want your moronic ass on our finance team?”
Thankfully, the doors chime on the sixteenth floor, and a few people disperse out of the crowded car, including Mr. Finance. Heat blazes in his glare as he gives Tristan one final stare-down before the doors close.
I tilt my head, risking a peek, and am met with swirling amber staring back at me. Snapping my head forward, I won’t let Tristan Nelson ruin this monumental day for me.
It’s not long before we are the final two on the car as it arrives on our floor. I refuse to acknowledge he’s here. I didn’t need his help with the douche from finance, and I certainly don’t want to deal with his cruel jokes.
Rolling my shoulders back, I step onto the shiny marble floor. The ding of the elevator has heads turning in our direction from where they are gathered at our small reception desk.
“Congratulations!” Zoe greets from where she’s leaning her hip against the desk, a white and green to-go cup in her hands. A few of our colleagues clap their hands. I guess the word spread quicker than I thought.
A blush creeps onto my cheeks, thanks to my insecurity of being the center of attention, but I can’t help but smile. My strides quicken as I walk in the direction of Zoe and the coffee that is waiting for me. She hands me the cup, which warms my chilled hands immediately. Bringing the cup to my lips, I savor the cozy flavors of sweet pistachio and brown buttery toppings as the flavors burst on my tongue.
“This is delicious,” I moan. “Thank you.”
“Celebratory coffee is a must when you deserve it.” Zoe smiles, and I’m so thankful for the friendship I have with her. Even in this competitive work environment, she never lets it affect our friendship. We are constantly working together to lift each other up and not beat the other out.
“You look stunning,” someone else says, approaching the group. “And congratulations, by the way.”
