The Billionaire Boss Next Door
His grip is firm, a quality I appreciate, and he indicates I should take a seat with the other hand. “You too, Greer. And please, call me Trent.”
I smile nervously and settle into the soft leather chair in front of his desk before tucking a curled lock of hair behind my ear. My knee bounces—thankfully out of his sight—and I put a weighty hand on top of it to slow it down.
“Okay. Trent.” I test out his name to make sure I can say it without dropping to my knees and begging for the job. It’s close, but somehow, I manage. “I really appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”
He waves me off and sits in the large desk chair on the other side of the mahogany island between us. His desk is so massive, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had hermits camped in the middle of it that he doesn’t even know about. “Please. I need a designer, and you come highly recommended.”
Really? By whom? Clarise Beaumont doesn’t hate me or anything, but she’s not the kind of person to speak highly of anyone. Other than her, the only person I’ve ever worked for is my grandfather, and if he’s giving me references from the grave, I’m officially freaked out.
I’m careful to cover the shock in my heart with a smile on my face, but he’s too keen and too experienced to miss the subtle clues.
“I’ve spoken with several of your clients.”
“My…” I swallow a sudden flood of saliva. “You’ve spoken to my clients.”
He grins, comfortable in a position of power. Clearly, he didn’t get to the place he is in the hotel business by playing by the rules, and I didn’t get into the trouble I am by expecting the unexpected. We’re a match made in hell, and he’s the devil who plays all the chords.
Each and every one of my client relationships is important to me. I’ve been a part of creating the perfect home for a new couple just starting to build a life together, making a space for a new life to live out its days and nights in several nurseries, and restoring a foundering home left ravaged by Katrina to its former glory. My design expertise even turned a barely surviving gallery in NOLA’s Arts District into a thriving, successful business that now attracts some of the most popular artists in the country. But I’ve never done anything with the magnitude of a hotel, and I’m afraid the limitations of my past experience will work against me.
What does Trent Turner, one of the richest men in the country, care about Genevieve and Ford Amant’s nursery? Or Lisette Ellois’s kitchen remodel?
“I’ve always hated references from employers and coworkers and industry professionals because they’re good at feeding bullshit in whatever direction benefits them. You were good, you weren’t, whatever. Their opinions are based on their needs and wants. Not the needs and wants of your clients. And I’m in the market to be a client, not an employer.”
“I…” I frown and put a hand to his desk, swirling a smudge onto the wood with a fingertip before coming to a conclusion. He’s not holding anything back, and neither should I. I’m either going to save everything I’ve been working toward or go down in a blaze of glory.
Go big, or go home.
“Would you mind explaining to me how you see those as different? To me, my clients are my employers. I work for you and your goals. I’m only meant to be an expert in all the areas you’re too busy to get lost in.”
He smiles, and for the first time since I landed this fucking interview, hope actually sprouts in my chest.
“I knew I liked you.”
“You did?” I’m dumbfounded. Hardly anyone ever likes me based on my first impression. I’m crass and inappropriate, and I don’t do the best job of following normal social cues.
“I’ve seen your exemplary work, and your clients spoke highly of your work ethic and designs,” he responds. “You see the world the way few people do, I can tell, and that means you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. My son is heading up the New Orleans project, and he really needs someone like you on his team.”
“I’m hired?” Shock laces my words, and I’m powerless to stop it. As much as I’ve been counting on this job—dreaming of it—I never really thought I’d land it.
Designing the Vanderturn New Orleans is a big deal. Way bigger than Greer Hudson and a totally new endeavor for Hudson Designs.
“Indeed. It won’t be easy. We’re on a tight timeline, but I’m excited to see what you can do for us down there.”
I jump up from my seat and shove out a hand again. I’m too excited not to. This is it. The kind of moment I’ll never get to experience twice, no matter what I do with my career from now on.