“Didn’t I tell you I wanted to put my fist through his face? Come on, let’s take a walk, it’s nicer out today than I thought. What would you rather see first, the Shedd or the Art Institute?”
“Oooh, Art Institute sounds great. I haven’t been in forever.”
Chapter Twenty Two
Holly’s running commentary as we walk through the Art Institute is clever, interesting, and has me laughing more than a few times. Fuck, she was sweet to put up with my ass and Amelia. I know she’s feeling uneasy about this new side of Amelia, but she hasn’t whined or complained about it or held it against me. Long after brunch, I still have a bad taste in my mouth from it. Holly helps me forget all about it as she moans how much she wants me.
The next few weeks fly by in a sex soaked dream I’m sure will end every night, yet it doesn’t. Away from Holly, I’m cranky, not happy until I have her against me, the feel of her skin against mine. During my few moments of sanity, I mutter lectures of getting it together, my body doesn’t listen. More mornings are spent buried in Holly than working out, and afternoons are spent working my ass off to get home early to her.
This morning, I already miss her and my mind is thinking of all the ways I can go home early today. I’m barely out of the elevator at work when I’m met by two other partners. Fuck, this isn’t good. Karen Barker, one of the senior partners, speaks first. “Marco Bracco was here. He was visiting his office here and was ‘just popping in’ to see how things are going.”
Owen Paul, another partner who has Bracco as his client, is looking flushed. “It’s obvious he’s been courted by other firms. As we were talking, he was throwing stuff out about how he prefers us as a mid-sized firm. How hands on we are, almost like a family. Then he fucking asked me a question I couldn’t answer about his company’s recent sales. The expression on his face was clear as day. If we don’t impress the fuck out of him, I’m out a client and this firm is out one of our biggest clients.”
Oh, for fucks-sake. I bristle at being called a mid-sized firm, we have almost the same size, fourteen floors, in New York. The firm brings in over sixty million every month in billables. Bracco should know that considering he is one of our biggest clients. His hometown in Genoa is his base, his base in the states is here in Chicago. “How did things end?”
“I walked him down to his car, telling him I’d call him for dinner. It’s his preference anyway, he likes to do the dinner thing then talk business.”
There are three other partners. I’ve been to everybody’s place. Of the two, besides me, who live close enough to the city, both have places that wouldn’t hold more than a handful of people. “Fine, all the partners. My place, tonight. Tell Bernard he has to come, none of his anti-social bullshit.”
Karen looks relieved. “I knew you could do it. What time?”
“Seven. I have to go call my housekeeper and tell her she has to make magic happen within nine hours, for more than a dozen people.”
“My wife won’t be able to come, she’s down with the flu.”
Karen is nodding, “Susan is out of town at a conference so she won’t be there.”
“That helps. Karen, send out an email to the partners and forward me their RSVPs with or without partners so I know how many to have her prepare for. I need the number ASAP. Owen, have your secretary send me your files on the company so I know what the hell I’m talking about. When I’m done, they’ll cycle among the other partners. We need to know his company as if it were ours.”
“Got it.” Owen disappears.
“Thanks, Ethan and to think Owen was one of the holdouts on making you a partner.” Karen smiles as she heads for her office.
I’m not surprised about Owen, he’s had it out for me for years. Opal is waiting for me. “Nothing that isn’t an emergency happens today. Owen’s secretary will be by with a file for me. I need you to dig up everything you can, not just from this office but even whispers on the web or out in the business world on Marco Bracco and his company, Mizzoni’s.”
My ass has barely hit my seat before Owen’s secretary, Jenny, is handing me two thick files. I study them as I wait for Karen to send me numbers. Ten minutes later, I have the numbers. All the partners are in, but not all will be bringing their significant other, bringing the total to ten.
I call Holly.
“Hey, you’re calling early.”
“I’m calling early because by seven o’clock tonight I need you to have prepared dinner for eleven, that eleven includes you. You’ll need to play hostess, wear that red dress you wore when we went out.”
“You’re serious.”
“My firm is in danger of losing a client, I’m very serious. A little food import business, Mizzoni’s, ever hear of them?” They are one of the top tier Italian food importers in the world, sold at only the finest stores.
“Are any of the guests vegetarian or have food allergies?”
Like I fucking know. “I have no idea.”
“Of course you don’t. Where is the client from?”
“What?”
“Northern Italians and Italians from the south have very different food preferences. Do you know what city the client is from?”
“Genoa.”