Page 10 of Broken Headboards
Chapter Four
Tess
“Fuck.”I watch the numbers on the elevator’s digital display climb up, and I can’t stop myself from glancing at my wristwatch. Ten past nine, which means that I’m already late.
When the doors finally slide back into their partitions, I rush out of the elevator. Clutching my purse tight, I head straight toward the closed double-doors at the end of the hallway. Right before I enter the room, I stop and take a deep breath.
Why the hell didn’t Ashley tell me what’s up?
Christ.
“...a recurring problem, I know, but it is what it is,” I hear one of the board members, most likely the vice president, say as I step inside. I try to be as silent as possible, but a few heads turn my way all the same.
Judging by the excitement on Ashley’s voice, I thought that the Clarendon Tower conference room would be completely packed, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
Aside from me and the five remaining members of the board, I only count nine people. Sitting on the side, I see Ashley—who gives me a quick wink the moment she sees me walk in—and Taylor.
Are these two an item now? I can never tell.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking straight at the board members as everyone falls silent. I take one of the seats at the back and rest the purse at my feet, glancing at the other members in attendance.
One of them I recognize immediately—Austin Randall.
Asshole galore and one of my direct competitors, he’s the owner of Oakmont, a company that has caused me so many freaking headaches that I instinctively reach for my purse to get an aspirin. Swear to God, if Oakmont wasn’t a thing, I’d have double the customers I have right now...and I’d easily triple my income.
More than just that though, it’s everything that Austin represents. He provides expensive mass market furniture that’s brash and in your face. He’s made a killing out of selling the man’s look. Heavy wooden furniture that overpowers the room.
Let’s not forget that he’s done it while completely selling out. He controls his costs at the expense of art and design.
There’s nothing boutique about Austin Randall.
Yeah, I know what you’re going to say: competition fosters excellence and all that bullshit. So let me put you at ease and say that I can most definitely handle competition. What I can’t handle are massive assholes that think they can swing their dick around and have the rest of the world at their feet.
Now, I’ve never had a conversation with Austin, but it’s not like I need to. His fame precedes him, after all. He is what some would call...an assholish manwhore of a dirtbag. Or, to put it plainly, the man can’t keep it in his pants.
Seems like the furnishing industry is packed with these assholes. Maybe I should start carrying my letter opener in my purse all the times. You just never know when you’re gonna need to open a letter.
Or rip up a guy’s ballsack.
“As I was saying,” the man leading the meeting continues, taking his eyes off me. “We’re aware that we’ve had some problems with this board’s presidents in the past. As such, and as you well know, we don’t have a president currently. But that doesn’t mean that this board is powerless.” He makes a quick pause, and then gives Taylor a quick nod. “The past three presidents have vacated their apartments and, due to the legal situation they’re in, ownership of those apartments has been returned to the board.”
“And the Clarendon Tower board and Draper Pierce have reached an agreement,” Taylor suddenly says, fastening his jacket as he stands up and walks up the dais where the board is sitting. Ashley’s massive crush never fails to make an impression, it seems. No wonder she’s crazy about the guy. Handsome, charismatic, and Draper Pierce’s omnipotent CEO, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors this town has ever seen.
Turning to his small audience, he flashes everyone a grin.
“The three vacant apartments will be converted into fifteen one-bedroom studios, and Draper Pierce will lease them all. And that’s exactly why you’ve all been gathered here tonight.”
He makes a sweeping motion at those listening to him and, for the first time since I got here, I really look at them. I see Willis fromFast Furnishing Solutions, Andrew fromSolidWares,and four more bastards that have climbed to the top of the industry in this state.
All my main competitors, together in a room.
I should’ve brought seven letter openers.
“As you’ve probably already figured out, these bedroom studios will need to be decorated,” Taylor continues, adjusting his blood-red tie and appraising us. There’s probably nothing in the world this guy enjoys more than to see people ripping each other’s throats to get a deal. Not that I’m surprised. You don’t get to be CEO of the largest bank in the world if, at the very least, you don’t enjoy the chaos you leave in your wake.
“Yes, Willy?” Taylor points at the guy sitting right at the front, hand raised in the air like a good schoolboy.
“It’s Willis,” he starts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “So, our whole thing is bidding for the job?”
