Page 80 of Sassy Love
The Align Group.
“Yes, what about them?”
“They went bankrupt.”
“No. When?”
“Two months back. I rang to confirm the donations for next year, and the line was disconnected. So I googled them. It took some digging, but Griff asked around, and they’re up for tax fraud. And they were our main sponsor. Like without them, we all go home next quarter.”
Shock steals my last breath on its way out, and I grip the side of his desk, leaning closer to the laptop as if that will make things clearer. “How did this happen, and why didn’t they communicate this to us? We need to talk to Serelle and let her know. Like now.”
“No, wait.”
“Lawson.” My tone is low and reprimanding.
“Wait, just give me ten minutes. If I’ve learned anything from years in business, it’s that once you put a narrative out there, it takes on a life of its own. If we can sort this out before the Christmas period, nobody needs to get fired, the shelter stays open, and what if...”
I pace at the side of his desk, mulling over his idea. “What if we can gain more than just the sponsorship we lost, and have enough to cover the shelter to operate twenty-four hours?”
Lawson leans back in his chair as I continue, “If this doesn’t work out and we can’t replace the sponsor we lost and Serelle realizes we lied to her, we’ll both lose our jobs. Who knows who will be in this fish tank after us. Will they even care about those women and children?”
“It’s a risk, I know. But I think it’s one that’s worth it.” He runs a hand through his already mussed hair. And I want to close the distance between us and sink my fingers into it. Then my mouth over his.
“Let’s do it.” My own words startle me.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yep, business is always a risk. Without risk, there’s no growth. And we need growth more than anything else. Maybe we could set an event to pull in better sponsors?”
He smiles up at me. “You think you can plan and pull off a sponsorship gala?”
The overwhelming realization of what we have schemed hits me. I’m one woman in the city that never sleeps, needing to plana gala—preferably before January first, with less than four weeks to pull it off.
Fuck.
“I—”
Lawson stands and closes the distance. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Give me a second,” I whisper, rubbing my hands over my face and turning away to pace again. “It should be a Christmas gala. You know, hit people when they’re filled with the festive—a.k.a. giving—spirit.”
I spin back, throwing my hands in the air. “Yes! That’s it!”
It’s then I see the entire staff floor enraptured as they stare at the fish tank. We must have been more intense than I realized. I force a tight smile and wave to Bob, the loser who has a smirk plastered on his damn face.
Urgh. That man is insufferable.
“Stop pacing,” Lawson says, rising from his chair. “You’re scaring the children.”
“Huh, you oughta talk with your manic monologue earlier.”
“Carlie, we’ll get this sorted. We can ask for outside help if we have to.”
“No thank you, my reputation has taken a big enough hit after Carlson.”
“I thought of that, and I have a solution for you.”
I stop and meet him in the middle of the office. He folds his arms over his chest, those roped forearms of his flexing with the movement.
