Page 55 of Broken Headboards
Chapter Twenty-Two
Austin
25 to 20.
I walk into the conference room today five points down.
But something tells me that the tables have turned and the ball is in my court. And no I’m not trying to relive the horrifying ping pong dining table. Seriously, what the fuck was that? I do have to admit though, the asshole part of me can’t wait to see what Wally has in store for us this time.
Forget about Wally—we probably should anyway—I know this round is mine. I’ll be walking out of here with a solid 30 points and a step closer to winning that contract with Clarendon Towers. A contract that’ll make Oakmont more prestigious and successful than I ever could imagine. Well really it’s more than my father, grandfather and his father, could’ve ever imagined.
The judges make their entrance, creating a commotion as they stroll around everyone’s sofa display. It’s such an ostentatious show but I know they fucking love it. Taylor is no exception. He’s not unlike me in that we thrive off this attention—wanting people to know the power we hold in our hands. The ability to crush a person’s livelihood lays at our fingertips and all we have to do is snap and everyone will bend our way. It’s a fucking addicting high.
That’s how I feel right now knowing there’s nothing between me and those ten points.
But there’s something else I can’t shake. A feeling I’m not familiar with and it’s annoying the shit out of me.
I pace my designated corner, looking over my sofa again and again.
“Miranda, how’s everything looking?” I ask her for reassurance, though I’m also generally interested in how the competition is looking. Mostly how Tess is looking.
She looks at me and tilts her head in confusion. This is a rare sighting…Austin Randall is anxious.
She slides her leopard print sunglasses on, folding her clipboard into her chest and looks over the sofa in front of us.
“All is good, Mr. Randall. From my projections, you’re all set to win this round.” She lowers her voice so that only I can hear it. “Even without Oliver Martin in your pocket, you’d still win.” Her smile reaches her eyes and she pats me on the shoulder. But the twinge of guilt pulls at me.
Winning is in my blood. And, I will do whatever it takes to win—dirty or clean. That’s not new for me—butthisfeeling is. And let me tell you, I fucking hate it.
But she had it coming. You can’t expect a man, especially Austin Randall—a King amongst men—to roll over and let Tess whip my ass. I will fight back and prove my worth, even at the expense of my squeaky-clean reputation.
Ok, you can laugh, baby. We all know that my reputation is the farthest thing from clean. Hell, you wouldn’t have continued reading if you weren’t intrigued with what I’ve done and what I can do with these hands. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that I took advantage of a loophole and that Tess fell victim to my instinctual drive to win.
She’s a big girl. She can manage. As she’s proven many times before.
I wrap my arms around my chest and glance over at her. She’s not looking in my direction.
She’s pissed. And, rightly so. But I’m surprised she hasn’t let herself wander, just a little bit.
She bends down to do a last-minute dust off her sofa’s trim. It’s another sophisticated design,Domina-oriented. But the micro-suede fabric she’s using seems a bit out of place. From what I’ve learned, that is not her fabric of choice and to be honest, it wouldn’t be mine either. It’s too temperamental andcommonfor Clarendon Tower. Sorry, I had to say it.
But I know she had no other option.
Thanks to me.
“Welcome back contenders!” Taylor projects his voice over the conference room. “We’re particularly excited to see what everyone brought here today and from what we’ve seen so far, we’re impressed. However, looks aren’t everything when it comes to these pieces. If you were to win this competition, these sofas will be used everywhere in Clarendon Tower. Not just in the lofts. These pieces need to be Clarendon Tower, they will be becomethestatement. But they also need to able to withstand the expected and unexpectedelementsof Clarendon Tower.” He smirks and rubs his hands together, like he’s replaying everything that’s happened in this place from corrupt Board Presidents to art thief’s. It’s never boring at the Clarendon, that’s for fucking sure. No wonder why Tara likes us so much.
I might be only half listening to Taylor’s spiel because Tess’s figure distracts me. Her body sinks when he spells out the qualifications of this round. Such a reaction is warranted seeing as micro-suede isn’t the best, like I’ve said.
She knows she’s already lost.
Sorry baby. It had to be done.
“Tess. Would you like to start us out?” Taylor reaches his arm out towards her and the board waddles over to her spot.
“Yes.” She nods her head and crosses her arms, dragging her feet over to her sofa.
I watch her, my gaze in-tuned to every part of her body. For some reason, I’m rooting for her. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her to win. I’m winning this, baby. But I also don’t want her to fall on her face.
