Page 76 of Broken Headboards
Chapter Thirty-One
Austin
“Damn. This is fucking perfect.”My eyes scan over Giovanni’s headboard.
Personally, I wouldn’t have chosen the decorative ornaments to line the trim, but it’s not my decision, it was Giovanni’s. And, that’s why I hired him—for his expertise, not mine.
I admit, sometimes I am a helicopter CEO. I struggle when I don’t have my hands on every design that leaves my factory doors. But again, I have to remind myself that he knows what he’s doing, and most specifically, he knows headboards. I should trust and value his vision, like everyone else in the industry.
I do hate being a follower, though.
My fingers trace over one of the ornaments and a sense of satisfaction washes over me. I revel in the feel of its touch, knowing that this elegant bastard is going to win me the $2 billion Clarendon Tower contract.
It feels fucking good.
Mostly.
“Mr. Randall, the set is complete,” Miranda announces, taking a few steps back to view the whole display.
It’s still several hours before the competition, but my whole team is in the conference room setting up early. Today is too big to just stroll up in here right on time, I needed to ensure that everything will go smoothly with no bumps or hiccups along the way.
I can’t afford any of that shit at this stage in the competition. I mean, it’s the fucking final round, there’s no coming back from this.
And, honestly, I couldn’t wait to set everything up and see how it fit together. A little part of me was anxious about Giovanni’s design so as soon as his people dropped off the headboard this morning, I had my team rush to the Clarendon conference room to put it together. I wanted to see this masterpiece in all its glory and to display it next to my pieces.
It’s a surreal moment to see one of Giovanni Giannoni’s headboards standing next to your own. And if you know anything by now, baby, you know that I’m not one to get star-struck or tongue-tied, but right now, I am. I’m just so fucking proud of myself.
I meet Miranda a few feet away, taking in her view of the whole set.
It’s fucking perfect. The elegance and sophistication of the headboard perfectly complements the simplicity of the dresser and night stands beside it. The contrast between the soft fabric and the natural, exposed wood highlights each piece’s beauty in both an understated yet overt way. The pieces together suit a wide range of tastes, from elegant to rustic and modern to vintage.
Giovanni has done it again. And, so have I.
I shake my head as my eyes scroll over the completed set one more time. Why did I even question that guy for a second?
Fuck…I know, don’t remind me. I’m trying hard to distract myself. I don’t have time or the patience to think about Tess today.
Even though she is my sole competitor. And the only person I should be thinking about.
Fuck me, right?
I swear, every time I’m reminded of her, the guilt I’ve been carrying since the moment I signed the contract with Giovanni grows stronger. It’s excruciatingly painful. And, it’s gotten to the point where I’ve contemplated forfeiting the competition altogether.
Hell, thinking about it right now makes me question why I’m doing this.
I really don’t need this contract. I have more than enough clients and I make a ridiculous amount of money, more than 10 timesDominaDesigns makes in a year. She should have this win, not Oakmont.
No, no…what the hell am I saying?
Jesus, see what this woman is doing to me? She’s making me second guess everything, even my own natural instincts. I am a born competitor. I’m the one who thrives off first place trophies, MVP awards and every kind of cash prize. I win, and I always will win.
She never had a chance against me. And, today is no different. This headboard is mypiece de resistance. It’s a finisher—It will end this competition.
“I’m about to win this,” I declare, crossing my arms assuredly, glancing over at Miranda. She smiles back with a smug and comforting expression.
“I think you are. How does it feel?” She asks, sliding her clipboard under her arm.
“Good,” I say, faking my calm tone. “I think…” I mumble under my breath.
