Page 2 of Paradise in Progress
Yay for instability.
Alexander ends our meeting, and I quickly gather my items before dashing out of the conference room, making a beeline for the elevator. Nelson Signature owns the top five floors of the Eisenhower building, each floor designated for specific levels inside the company.
The top floor consists of the higher positioned offices, while the second floor is the main entrance for guests. A large desk sits with four receptionists and conference rooms of various sizes.
Teams of architects and interior designers are located on the third floor, where my cubicle is. The remainder of the floors house human resources, sales and marketing, property management teams, and everything in between.
“Hold up, Firecracker.”
That voice.I stumble in my heels and hope it’s not enough for Tristan to notice as I do the opposite of what he demanded.
Spotting the line gathering at the elevator, I head straight for the door leading to the stairwell. I’m not against descending steps and breaking a sweat in these goddamn heels to get away from him. Shoving through the door, the wood hits my elbow, causing me to drop my notepad, and loose papers spill onto the ground.
“Shit,” I hiss, bending down to gather them up. I’m quick, but not quick enough.
The sound of the door opening has me glaring over my shoulder. “Damn, Firecracker. Who knew you could move that fast?”
Unable to fight the urge, I roll my eyes. “Not now, Tristan.”
“Ah, come on, I only wanted to let you know that I can’t wait to hear what your proposal will be for the new location we acquired.”
Pausing with my hands outstretched, I turn to stare up at the man leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, as a cocky grin spreads across his perfectly symmetrical full lips. The jerk couldn’t even offer to help pick up my papers. Not that I would’ve accepted his help; it just would've been nice to tell him no. But Prince Nelson must not have wanted to wrinkle his Armani suit.
I narrow my eyes. “What are you talking about? What acquisition? And why would you need to hear it? Won’t you design your own?”
His signature smirk shines back at me, which has his dimple appearing. “Oh, this is great. You didn’t hear the news?”
“What news?” I grit out and crinkle the paper I’m holding.
“The St. Lucia project is mine.”
Color drains from my face, but I fight to keep my facial expression relaxed so he doesn’t see how much that bothers me. I have only heard a rumor that Nelson Signature acquired a resort in St. Lucia, making it their first international resort. Since it was a rumor, I didn’t think too much about it. I’ve never been one to fully believe anything that comes out of the gossip mill. The only thing I knew for sure was that if this was true, the design project would be my first opportunity to give a full presentation since I was hired at Nelson Signature. Now I’m finding out he’s going to be overseeing it. No matter how much time, effort, and energy I put into my design pitch, I’m never going to get accepted, especially if Tristan has any say.
I avert my gaze from his, gathering up the rest of my papers before standing and smoothing down my pencil skirt. As he tracked my movements, I feel his eyes blaze over my body.
“Oh yeah, Tristan? It’s going to be me on top.Just wait.” My cheeks flame as I watch his face morph into a lopsided grin, almost sinister, and it’s clear he took it the wrong way. “I-I didn’t mean for that to sound so-so sexual.”
His chuckle fills the space between us. “Firecracker, are you finally admitting you want me in bed?”
“In your dreams.” With a scoff, I turn on my heels and let my feet carry me down the stairs. His husky chuckle is the last thing I hear as I open the door to the floor we share.
Yeah, I loathe Tristan Lawrence Nelson.
The rest of the afternoon seemed to drag on. Not only have Tristan’s words been muddling my brain, but I’ve had to go over someone else’s designs for the resort in Aspen, Colorado. Nelson Signature wants to conduct a forty-million-dollar facelift at their resort, including upgrading the rooms to include a more apartment-like feel, new dining options, and a state-of-the-art spa with top-of-the-line wellness treatments.
It’s going to be a stunning remodel, but going over the plans and budget for someone else is a bit tedious. I have five years of experience in this field, but I feel like I’m back in the training process, like I’m a newbie again. I have to familiarize myself with the type of accommodations and materials that Nelson Signature is known for.
Resting my elbows on my desk, I rub my temples. I’m so glad it’s Thursday, which is the night my friends and I meet up at a local bar for happy hour. It’s been a long week, and I’m desperate to blow off some steam.
“Ready?” Zoe, my co-worker and friend, asks as she pops her head over the wall separating our spaces.
A small gasp escapes my lips as her voice startles me. “Seriously, Zoe. You scared me.”
She laughs, and I shake my head. Zoe and I hit it off right away. She’s a few years older than I am and has been working here since she graduated from college. Our personalities meshed, and she swiftly took me under her wing.
“Come on, babe, let’s go get our drink on.”
I reach for my lower desk drawer, sliding the compartment open and pulling out my purse, where I make quick work at unzipping and pulling out my small makeup bag. Most people have to dig for their items, but I’m not one of those people. I’m as organized as they come. I could totally be the kind of girl on social media who films her life and everyone would comment that no one’s lives are that organized. I believe everything has a place, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t belong.
