Page 21 of Broken Headboards
Chapter Nine
Austin
“Arrange the piecesaccording to our blueprint and in our designated area, right in the middle,” I instruct my team of interns and assistants, pointing over to our spot in the Clarendon conference room.
I trail behind my team but stay a few steps back, wanting to assess the other contestants…well, if you can call them that.
I try to stifle the grin spreading across my face as I watch them struggle. They’re all scrambling to do last minute touches on their pieces. Some are hemming fabric together while others are wiping down the material, scrubbing too hard in my opinion.
There’s one motherfucker who is painting a table. I shit you not.
Talk about waiting to the last minute, right?
A loud hammering appears out of nowhere, and I jolt my attention towards the sound.
Fuck, that’s Wally…or Wallis? Whatever the fuck his name is.
Is he just now assembling his chair?
What the fuck, dude?
I cringe watching him jack-rabbit the shit out of his make-shift rocking chair. I can see the sweat beading down his forehead and back, moistening the neckline of his shirt. It’s like watching a trainwreck—you don’t want to watch it, but you can’t fucking look away.
And, why did he think gray would be an appropriate color to wear today? Especially if you know you’re going to be a fucking nervous wreck. I mean, I’m not considering I know I’ll win. And to be honest I’m never nervous. It’s one of the many upsides in knowing you’re a fucking boss at what you do.
But, now that I’ve seen the competition I’m up against, I’m more than confident that those ten points are mine.
I look over at my team, who’s adjusting the two leather couches and my chaise lounge into an award-winning formation. I approach them, assessing the shape of it and directing them to move the chaise lounge closer to the center so that it’ll be more on display than the rest.
The chaise lounge is my winning piece after all. It’s my bread and butter, a chair that radiates strength and poise while also being a bit understated. Yes, it’s a leather chair, I’m aware of that…but the way I weaved the leather together, highlighting the pigment and delicate etched designs brings a subtlety to it.
If you could see it, baby, I know you’d be impressed.
Then, what sounds like a stampede strolls into the room and I do a double-take when I see Tess leading it—it’s her team lugging in all her pieces.
Damn, she knows how to make an entrance.
She nods to acknowledge me as she passes, and I do the same, hoping to remain as cordial as I can during the first round.
I can’t say that I’ll be as gentlemanly in the next few.
I try to gather a sneak peek from under the white sheets covering her furniture but the only thing I can gather is her color scheme, cream and gold—typicalDomina.
Oh, and her ass looks fucking delectable in that tight black pencil skirt. Her sky-high stilettos click against the floor and my eyes follow her long, lean legs, trailing down the black line on the back of her stockings.
Jesus Christ, this woman is a fucking temptress. She’s going to give everyone a heart attack, and no, it won’t be from those delicate, soft pieces of hers.
I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth and re-direct my attention to my team just in time for Taylor to enter the room.
“Hello, all!” Taylor shouts and everybody twists their body towards him. The board members follow with clipboards in hand, and I see Ashley emerge from the small crowd and run over to greet Tess.
My gaze follows her, but it lands on the furniture surrounding them.
In Tess fashion, her couches are bathed in soft colors. There’s also a touch of gold embroidering the cushions. They’re pretty, and they do exude a refined elegance that I’m sure Clarendon Tower residents would appreciate.
But it’s her chaise lounge that makes me fume. She would have the exact same idea as me, wouldn’t she? Although hers mimics mine only subtly in shape and size, the rest is pureDomina.
How did she fucking know?
