“Does it have a rooftop?”
“I think so.”
“You could bring the garden to her. Like you did for that wedding you worked on.”
He was actually paying attention to that? “That’s… that’s an amazing idea.” The gears in my head spin, imagining how we could transform her rooftop into a garden. Astroturf everywhere, huge potted plants and trees, garlands of flowers strung up. A green paradise along the city skyline. “Wait, no. That would be way too expensive. And I don’t have the staff to set that up.”
Denise hired ten guys to help with setup when we did that wedding, and the budget was way out of Danielle’s league.
“All right.” He mulls it over some more, and I’m just about to tell him he doesn’t seriously have to come up with a solution when he turns to me with a devilish smile. “They want exclusive? How about Worthington Place?”
My nose wrinkles. “That’s a little too elite. Only residents have access.” Only the ultra rich can afford one of the twelve apartments in that building smack dab in the middle of the Upper West Side.
“I know someone who lives there. And she owes me a favor.”
I sit up, at attention now. “Who?” The word comes out more demanding than I meant it to, but I can’t help it.
“Talia Doukas.”
The name takes a moment to click. The only daughter of a Greek shipping magnate, she’s regularly featured in the Manhattan Herald and set to inherit a lot of money. “What the hell kind of favor could you owe her?” The question slips out unintentionally before I realize that of course he personally knows someone like her. His family’s on the same level as hers.
He grins, not taking offense at my rudeness. “I set her and her husband up. They owe me their everlasting happiness.”
I stifle a smile. “I-” I shouldn’t accept his offer, right? It’ll put me in his debt. And make it look like I can get future customers into places I truly can’t. “Thank you, Gabriel. That’s incredibly generous of you, but I can’t have you cash in your favor for me.”
“Even if it would impress your clients beyond belief? And then they’d tell everyone about their amazing event planner and create a ton of business for you?”
I consider his words, tapping my fingers against the desk as I think it through. I need more business, and marketing has always been my weakness. I’d rather spend my time planning events than finding new customers. “Why would you go to the trouble of doing this for me?”
“You need help,” he says simply. “And I have connections. I can get you into most anywhere you want to go. I always know a guy who knows a guy. It costs me nothing other than my time, which I have plenty of. Let me help you.” I’m momentarily caught up in the blue of his eyes, shining with warmth. “Besides,” he continues, “you’re a damn good planner. You deserve the boost in business.”
My cheeks flush at his compliment. “Thank you. If you can make it happen…” I shrug helplessly. “That would be beyond amazing.” It really is too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“Leave it to me,” he grins. “I’ll reach out to her tonight and confirm it’s doable, then give you the details.”
He turns to go, almost to the main shop door before I call out to him from my office doorway he just vacated. “Thank you so much.”
“Your wish is my command.” He bends down low, waving his arm in some exaggerated manner, making an idiot of himself, and I hide a smile behind my hand, watching him exit and head down the street.
Chapter Five
Gabriel
“What do you mean you might not make it? This is my wedding.”
There’s a heavy pause from the other end of the line, then Connor’s hesitant reply. “I’m sorry, Gabe, I didn’t think it meant that much.”
“I’m just messing with you,” I grin, sidestepping Nadia, my housekeeper, as she dusts the living room. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. If you’re not able to fly out, I’ll catch you next time you’re in town.”
He lets out a relieved sigh. “I’ll try to be there, but I can’t guarantee it with such short notice.”
“It’s no big deal.” I mean, Connor’s my main ally within the family so it kind of is a big deal, but he doesn’t need to stress over this. “I’ll ask Archer to be my best man instead.”
“Think he’ll throw you a bachelor party? Strippers and the whole works?”
“Straitlaced Archer hiring strippers? There’s a better chance of him stripping himself.”
Connor lets loose a belly laugh, the sound making me wish all the more it’ll be him standing up there next to me. But I understand he has actual work to do, and with his project in the Philippines, he can’t easily drop everything and hop on a plane for one day.
Especially to something I don’t even want to attend myself.
“Oh, I’d pay to see that. Archer probably has some secret Magic Mike moves we don’t know about.”
“Probably,” I smile to myself, heading into the kitchen to check what’s in the fridge. Nadia stocks it for me every week and occasionally takes pity on me and leaves a home-cooked meal too. Alas, no such luck this time.
“Dad’s been riding my ass about getting this place up and running on time. And apparently, this project takes precedence over your wedding. No offense.”
“None taken.” Looks like Dad has his priorities right on some things at least.
“But I’ll do my best, I promise.”
“Thanks, Con.”
I hang up and toss a frozen meal in the microwave, scarfing it down before taking the town car over to Bishop Industries. I ride the elevator up to the fiftieth floor where Archer’s office is, leaning against the mirrored back wall, eyes trained on the camera in the upper left corner, a subtle reminder that Dad’s always watching.
No one calls me sir this time. In fact, two other people in the car don’t even seem to recognize me. So much for any perks that come with being the boss’s son.
Archer’s new secretary, a pretty young thing fresh out of college, straightens in her chair upon my arrival, her eyes raking me up and down. “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Bishop?” she asks in a bubblegum voice, flipping her hair over a shoulder.
Seriously, can no one identify the familial resemblance? Archer’s hair is a slightly lighter shade of brown compared to my practically black locks, but we’ve got the same blue eyes as Dad. Admittedly, his have a frosty, serious edge to them I’ve never been able to replicate, but still.
“I’m his brother,” I tell her, eyeing the nameplate on his office door. Chief Financial Officer. Archer’s got a fancy MBA and ten years invested in the company, starting at nineteen as a part-time intern.
No one ever asked me to intern, though.
Archer is the chosen one. The son set to take over Bishop Industries one day. But if Dad had taken my overtures to work for him seriously years ago, would I have a similar title by now?
“Oh, Connor? I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”