The Billionaire's Heart (The Silver Cross Club Book 4) (13 page)

We hung up, and I did a happy dance in the middle of the sidewalk until a passing man muttered, “Fucking tourists.”

“I’m not a tourist,” I snapped at him. He gave me a one-fingered salute and kept moving.

Lord, I loved New York.

THIRTEEN

Elliott

I woke when my phone rang.

It was early, still: my apartment was filled with cold, gray light. I fumbled on my nightstand until my hand bumped into my phone, and I answered with my eyes barely cracked open. “Hello?”

“Elliott!” a voice said. I knew that voice. It was Carolina. “How are you?”

“Sleeping,” I said.

“No!” she exclaimed. “You cannot be! You are three hours ahead.”

“That’s right,” I said, and turned my head to look at the clock. “And it’s only 7:00 here. On a Saturday morning. And I’m sleeping.”

“You’re awake now,” she said, casually dismissive. “How have you been? We have not spoken in—”

“In less than a week,” I said. “What do you think has happened to me in the last seven days? Do you think I’ve been kidnapped by smugglers? I haven’t. You don’t need to mount an expedition to save me.”

She laughed. “So grumpy! I
did
wake you.”

“I don’t know why
you’re
awake,” I said. “And drop the accent.”

“Oh, fine,” she said, her voice suddenly Jersey instead of Caracas. “Carter doesn’t tell me to stop.”

“Carter is a more patient man than I am,” I said. “Hasn’t anyone found your birth certificate yet? Don’t they know you aren’t actually from some exotic foreign locale?”

“Not yet,” she said. “And you’re not going to spill. I’m awake because we’ve been filming night scenes this month. It kind of sucks, but at least they have a lot of good food.”

Carolina had moved out to Los Angeles a year ago to try her hand at acting, and had somehow landed a starring role in a show about a werewolf running for Congress, which had somehow become a smash hit. I thought the entire situation was ridiculous, but Carolina was happy, and I was happy for her. She and Carter and I grew up together, and even though I found her mystifying at times, she was still one of my dearest friends. “So the show is still going well?” I asked.

“That’s why I called,” she said. “We just got renewed for a second season! I’m going to negotiate a raise, and I think I might buy a house, so you and Carter need to fly out and help me pick something…”

She started talking about real estate agents and neighborhoods, and I closed my eyes and drifted—not asleep, but heading there quickly.

“Elliott,” Carolina said, startling me back to awareness. “You aren’t listening.”

“I’m listening,” I lied. I needed to train this woman not to call me before 8.

“You aren’t, but that’s okay,” she said. “I’ll let it slide. What’s this Carter tells me about a woman?”

I groaned. “There’s no woman. Carter is blissfully in love and thinks everyone else should be, too. Whatever he told you is a lie.”

“Carter doesn’t lie,” Carolina said. “He’s too noble for that.”

“He’s an optimist,” I said. “He’s out of touch with reality. He also has an infant and is chronically sleep-deprived. I wouldn’t listen to him.”

“Hmpf,” Carolina said. “Fine. But if anything happens, I expect to be the first to know! Don’t make me find out second-hand from Carter!”

“Duly noted,” I said. “I’m going back to sleep, now. Lovely talking with you.” And then I hung up on her, tossed my phone back onto the nightstand, and pulled the covers over my head.

I needed new friends.

I managed to go back to sleep after that, and finally stumbled out of bed close to noon, gummy-eyed and fuzzy-headed. I felt absurd, but I also knew I needed the sleep. I had been working nonstop for weeks now, and a single lazy morning would do me more good than harm.

I checked my phone. Carolina had sent me a few rude text messages berating me for hanging up on her. I rolled my eyes and deleted them. I also had a message from Carter, asking if I wanted to get lunch. That one I replied to.
Of course. When and where?

I went to take a shower, and when I got out, hair dripping down my back, Carter had responded.
12:30 at Paninoteca?

Sounds good
, I replied. I would have to get going: that was forty-five minutes from now, and Paninoteca was down in NoHo.

I arrived a few minutes late, and Carter was already seated near the windows at the front of the building, a pitcher of water on the table. “Sorry I’m late,” I said, taking off my coat.

“I haven’t been here long,” he said. “And I didn’t give you much notice.”

“A man’s got to eat,” I said, and sat down. “I would have responded to your text sooner, but Carolina woke me up at the crack of dawn this morning, and I went back to sleep after and ended up passing out for about four hours.”

Carter grinned. “Should I be hurt that she didn’t call me?”

“Absolutely not,” I said. “Maybe I should have a baby, too, and then she’ll let me sleep in from time to time. Her show got renewed, apparently.”

“That’s terrific,” Carter said. “God, she’s hell on wheels, isn’t she? What else did she want from you?”

“Help buying a house,” I said. “I sort of fell back asleep at that point.”

He laughed. “That’s why I make you spend time with me in person. It would be much harder for you to fall asleep in the middle of lunch.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” I said.

The waiter came to take our orders, and then Carter leaned toward me and said, “How are things going with the company?”

“Surprisingly good,” I said. “I told you about the trip to Boston—”

He nodded.

“—well, those guys are interested in investing,” I said. “Nothing’s been finalized yet, so I’m not getting too excited, but it certainly seems promising.”

“Congratulations,” he said. “That’s wonderful news. We should have some celebratory wine.”

“Too early in the day for that,” I said. “I haven’t even been awake for two hours. And don’t you have a wife to get home to?”

“She’s at some baby yoga class,” he said. “She told me to get out of the house and do something fun. I’m under strict orders.”

“She thinks you work too much,” I said. “I’m tempted to agree.”

“No such thing,” he said. “Anyway, I’m glad you’ve found some investors. It’s a worthy cause.”

“And now I’ll actually be able to pay Sadie,” I said, and rubbed a hand over my face. “Hiring her was a bad idea. I can’t really afford it.”

“You told me you had some start-up funding,” Carter said, frowning at me.

“I do,” I said. “My savings account. I’ve been paying her out of my own pocket, and the money won’t last forever. These Boston guys are a good start, but they aren’t offering me all that much funding. I need a larger commitment if I’m going to hire more employees and expand the company.” He got a familiar gleam in his eyes, and I said, “Don’t even think about it. I’m not taking your money.”

“You’re the most stubborn person I know,” he said, “and I’m married to Regan, so I don’t say that lightly.”

“Sadie’s worse,” I said. “I can’t believe you didn’t warn me about her.”

“The two of you deserve each other,” he said. “The more I hear about your exploits, the more I’m convinced that I made an excellent decision in referring her to you.”

“Stop matchmaking,” I said. “You’re worse than Carolina.”

“The lady doth protest too much,” he said, smirking.

“I’m going home,” I threatened, but just then the waiter brought our sandwiches, and mine looked so good that it would be a shame to waste it.

FOURTEEN

Sadie

On Monday morning, I woke up early and called Elliott to let him know I would be late to work. He didn’t answer—maybe he’d taken my advice and was still at home—and so I left a message. I didn’t try to sound sick or anything, and didn’t make any excuses, just said I would be in late. I didn’t intend to hide what I was doing.

I dressed up a little for the interview. Airliner didn’t need a “look at me I’m quirky outfit”; they knew clothes had nothing to do with creativity. So I wore a pantsuit and a colorful blouse, and sensible heels. I wanted them to take me seriously.

I really wanted this job.

The office was in Soho, a light-filled loft on the top floor of a converted warehouse. The secretary, a perky white girl in her early twenties, smiled at me as I stepped out of the elevator, and said, “How can I help you?”

“I’m here for an interview with Tricia Evans,” I said, returning her smile.

“You must be Sadie,” she said, standing. “Right this way.”

She led me toward the back of the building. I took full advantage of the opportunity to gawk. The workspace was open: no cubicles. People sat at long tables, clicking away at their top-of-the-line computers. In one corner, a sofa and several armchairs faced a white-board, and five or six people were having an animated discussion about the diagram a tall man was drawing. Leafy plants hung from the ceiling, trailing long tendrils down toward the floor.

And then I spotted it: not just a coffee maker, but a shiny espresso machine.

Oh God, I
really
wanted this job.

A row of offices lined one wall, each with a large window that looked out into the main room. The secretary led me to one and tapped on the doorframe. “Tricia? Your 10:00 is here.”

I peeked in. Tricia was seated at her desk with stacks of papers arrayed around her. She smiled at me as she stood up and came over to the door. She shook my hand, her grip warm and firm, and said, “Sadie, thank you for coming. Thanks, Lulu.”

“Sure thing,” the secretary said, and left.

Really:
Lulu
? That sounded like a name for a child or a small dog, not an adult woman. But I kept my mouth shut and just said to Tricia, “Thanks for offering me the chance to interview.”

“Yes, let’s talk,” Tricia said. She returned to her desk and shoved some papers aside to clear a small space. “Please, have a seat.”

I sat, holding my bag in my lap. My heart beat rabbit-quick in my chest.

I was
nervous.
This job was everything I had ever wanted, and I didn’t want to screw it up.

“I was really impressed with your portfolio,” Tricia said. “Very fine work.”

I glowed.

“Can you tell me a little bit about your design aesthetic?” she asked.

God bless Tricia. She had just tossed me the biggest softball of all time. I could talk about that for ten million years. “Well,” I said, and drew in a deep breath.

Half an hour later, Tricia and I were laughing together like old friends. I knew, without her having to say anything, that I had aced the interview.

“We still have one other candidate to interview,” Tricia said, standing. “But I’ll be in touch. If I have any say in the matter, you’ll be hearing from us very soon.”

“Thanks,” I said. My head was spinning. “Great. Thanks.”

I gathered my things, and she walked me back to the elevator. “I think we’ll put you at that desk by the window,” she said, and winked at me.

Oh my God. I clutched my coat to my chest, too excited to speak.

We shook hands, and she said, “I’ll call you soon. No later than tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great,” I squeaked, a frightened little mouse-squeak, too unaccustomed to good things happening to me that I didn’t have any clue how to react.

Alone in the elevator, I curled my hands into fists, pressed my knuckles against my mouth, and let out a long, high-pitched noise, joy and terror bubbling inside me like the fizz in a soda bottle. Tricia
loved
me. She thought I was a
great designer
. She’d used the word “brilliant.” I wanted to work there, in that light-filled office, with the espresso machine and the cheerfully bickering co-workers.

But I felt guilty about leaving Elliott.

Cart before the horse, Sadie. Airliner hadn’t even offered me the job yet.

Elliott would be fine, anyway. I didn’t owe him anything.

I couldn’t worry about it now. I needed to book it to Midtown and hope Elliott wasn’t too angry with me for skipping out on him. I couldn’t imagine him yelling or anything, but I knew he was on a tight deadline, and every day counted. Maybe I would offer to do some work in the evening to make up for it.

The weekend’s snowfall had turned into brown slush in the gutters and dirty, packed piles at every corner. By the time I reached Elliott’s office, my boots were crusted with salt and my fingertips were frozen inside my mittens. But the inside of the building was warm and dry, and when I took the elevator up to the sixteenth floor, I was greeted with the sight of a rubber mat on the floor just inside the elevator, and a new floor lamp casting a wide yellow circle across the bare concrete.