Arianne
“Stupid idiots.” I rage under my breath as the packed car zooms down from the nineteenth floor.
Twice. Twice, they are a no show. How can people be this disrespectful? I let out a sigh. Fool me
once, shame on me. Fool me twice and don’t expect me to take your calls ever again.
When the elevator doors open, I stomp out, muttering a string of fourletter words.
All this pr eparation and sitting in traffic for no good reason. I was up at five-thirty this morning to
slap makeup on my face and get ready.
Thanks for nothing. I exit the building in search of a cab when my phone rings. I fish for it inside
my handbag. “Hey, Easton.” After Phoebe and my parents, Easton Winchester was the fourth
person to get my new phone number.
I acc ept the call. “Sorry. I got your message. I was going to call you back after my appointment.”
“Is this a bad time?” “No, it’s not.” I move out of the way to avoid getting run over by a mass of
people rushing towards the entrance of the building.
“Did your prospects hire you on the spot after a stellar presentation?”
“They’ll never get to hear the presentation I slaved over for days.” I try to hide the bitterness
consuming me.
“I detect frustration,” he says. That was a fail. “You detect correctly, dear friend.” “What
happened?” “Twelve days ago, I had an appointment with the same company. On my way up, I got
trapped in the elevator—”
“Oh, no.” “I know, right?” “How long were you trapped in there for?” “About an hour. The heavy
construction right outside the building was responsible for a temporary power outage.”
“Were you trapped alone?” “No, there was another guy in there with me.” A cocky, tall hunk with
mesmerizing ocean-blue eyes and a dazzling smile. As much as I hate to admit it, I haven’t been
able to stop thinking about him. My roomie was the kind of man who makes a lasting impression.
“Thank God for small favors,” Easton says. “Yeah.” “If this is your second meeting, why didn’t
your prospects hear your presentation?”
“I booked a seven-thirty meeting instead of a nine-thirty meeting to bypass the heavy morning
rush,” I say. “Like last time, I triple checked the appointment. They confirmed. Their executive
assistant also confirmed. Like last time, there was confusion on their part, aka, another early
morning golf game.”
“That’s highly unprofessional,” Easton says. “Do you have any other prospects on the list?”
“Not really. There are a lot of tire kickers. The lands cape in LA is different from Europe, New York
or Silicon Valley. Maybe I made the wrong decision by coming here.” I let out a defeated sigh.
“Maybe not,” Easton says. My ears perk. “You have a project for me?” “A friend of mine does.”
“Tell me more.” I’m practically salivating at the idea of working again. “This isn’t high-tech—”
“I’m okay with that.” “Down, girl,” Easton says. “Sorry. I’m not good at being idle.” “Then the
timing couldn’t be more perfect. This project was made for you, Arianne. It’s the kind of
opportunity you can sink your teeth into and make your mark.”
Interesting. “Here in LA?” “Yes. My friend isn’t a tire kicker.” “I like the sound of that.” “He has a
successful company worth multibillions of dollars.” I frown my confusion into the phone. “Why
would he need me?” “He’s seeking an expert willing to take a look under the hood of his well-oiled
top-of-the-line ride and turn it into a speeding bullet. In other words, he needs you to take his
company to the next level. This is more about ballooning his profits than a potential buyout.”
Right up my alley. “I’d love to meet with your friend.” “Good. I was hoping you’d say that. He flew
overnight from New York to LA. He just called me to find out if I got in touch with you. He’s eager
to meet with you. Are you available today?”
I hesitate. “Err... I like to have a complete picture of a prospect’s company before meeting with
them.” I sigh. “I don’t want to give off the wrong first impression by being unpr epared.”
“Arianne, your mind works faster than a processor.” I laugh. “You’ve always been such a great
supporter.” Easton was my ticket out of Silicon Valley when I needed to run away. “From my
understanding, you’re in. You have the job.” What? “How can that be?” I’m dumbfounded. “I
relayed my experience. You’ve never disappointed me.” Incredible. “Wow.” “This is a relaxed
face-to-face. You’ll have plenty of time to crunch numbers and pr epare complicated, colorful Excel
spreadsheets.”
“Are you making fun of me, Easton Winchester?” He laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I should hire you as my publicist,” I say. “Here I thought I could do it on my own, but I ke ep
stumbling on losers. One call from you and you hand me a winning lottery ticket.”
“I didn’t do a thing.” That’s a lie, but I won’t argue with him. “Thanks for vouching for me, but I
still feel uncomfortable walking into a meeting with nothing more to offer than a smile.”
Tr epidation grips at my core. “Arianne, stop overthinking. You could nail this contract with your
eyes closed.”
I think of how much time I’ve sunk into proposals that no one cares about since I landed in LA.
New city. New attitude. Throw caution to the wind, Ari. “Okay, let’s do it.”
My butt hits the backseat of the cab, and we’re in Culver City.
I spent the short ride fidgeting, unsure what to do with my hands. I was dying to Google as much as
I could, but decided against it. I’m not a halffull kind of girl. I dive de ep or not at all. Bits and
pieces of information would only end up giving me a panic attack.
This is a first for me. I’m going in blind. No point in stressing now. I’m here. Easton assured me I
had this one in the bag. You got this. After a thorough screening when the cab rolled in front of a
security booth, we inch to the front of a modern building where a row of security guards awaits.
Another round of checks later and I enter the building.
They don’t skimp on security here. As my Cedrics heels click against the polished concrete floor, I
take in the impeccable décor. This place is dripping with luxury. It’s understated, but impossible to
ignore. I gasp in admiration when my eyes catch an edgy ceiling lamp, consisting of eight large
black globes, that looks more like a
work of art than a utilitarian item. It’s a great complement to the modern water wall.
Wow. Whoever is behind this has flawless taste. From the opulence, it’s apparent I’m not dealing
with wannabe bubble gum CEOs who are nothing more than time-wasting teenage boys dressed in
suits.
Amen to that. The thought of a certain man in a suit brings me back to my extremely attractive
elevator roommate. Considering the solemn promise I made to myself, that guy has no business
occupying my thoughts like he has.
Focus. “Hello and good morning. Welcome to SCORE MAX Audio Bass. I’m Paula. How can I
help you today?” a thin jovial redhead with a slick bob, wearing a white blazer, says in one breath
as I approach her desk.
“Good morning. My name is Arianne Buchanan. Valerie is expecting me.”
“She told me to be on the lookout for you.” Paula gives me a onceover, her smile widening. “I love
your suit. I’ve never seen a woman wear a vest under a jacket before,” she says when her green eyes
meet mine.
“It’s a little conservative, I know.” “It’s good, honey,” she says. “So many young women these days
walk around with dresses that are as short as t-shirts. It’s slutty.”
“It’s not my style.” “Your beauty should speak for itself,” she says. “And God was good to you,
honey.”
“Thank you,” I say, blushing. “Valerie mentioned the meeting was on the fifth floor. I should go
upstairs. I don’t want to be late.”
“You’re right. You better go before I talk your ear off,” Paula says. “I’m from Minnesota. We’ve
been accused of being too friendly.” She laughs.
“Friendly is good.” “Aww... I like you already,” she says, placing her hand against her heart. “If
you head right up to those elevators,” she points to her right, “I’ll tell Valerie you’re on your way
up.”
“Thank you.” “Knock ’em dead, honey. You’re surely dressed for the part.”