A Bossy Roommate (Next Door to a Billionaire #2)

23. Carter

23

CARTER

I ’m skeptical about my aunt moving into Hattie’s spare room. Not necessarily about my aunt’s safety or anything like that. I’m sure the two of them will have a good time, and she’ll be well taken care of. With each visit over the years, the two women have grown closer. The last time Auntie visited, she told me she and Hattie were as inseparable as Waldorf and Statler (the two puppets on The Muppet Show who sit in the balcony and talk shit about the others), and while I could see her point, I always thought the comparison was flawed. The two elderly women are rather good at observing, that’s true, and they love nothing more than to make fun of themselves as well as others, which is true as well. But they both have an admirable positivity about them that is in stark contrast to Waldorf and Statler’s cantankerous personas.

What I’m concerned about is Hattie spilling the beans. Eden assured me that she wouldn’t, and while part of me wants to believe that’s true, another part isn’t as confident. We’ve never really been that warm toward each other, even though I believe our family trip might have helped in that regard. While I don’t think Hattie will say anything to be malicious, she isn’t exactly known for keeping a secret. Half of our conversations over the years have been her trying to fill me in on the gossip happening in the building. No, thank you.

However, with the way things are moving at work, I have no choice. I have to take Eden’s word that Hattie has things handled. At the very least, it sets my mind at ease that Aunt Eleanor won’t be alone all day. I certainly prefer her being here with us instead of in France. The good thing is, Hattie has clearly developed a soft spot for Eden, and I hope that closeness will be enough to convince her to keep our secret to herself.

Wednesday is a big day.

Legacy is on the brink of landing a huge contract, one that will replace the loss created by Granger Estates and then some. Months of late nights and intense legwork have culminated in representatives from Harbor View Developments coming to the office to meet face to face so we can pitch our ideas and sign the papers. If it all goes through without a hitch, it’ll be the biggest contract I’ve ever organized. Even bigger than Granger Estates. Unfortunately, the Grangers have decided in favor of Ecclestone. To my dismay, I was unable to convince them to change their minds: My attempts to establish communication with them had consistently been impeded.

Harbor View Developments work mainly on the coast. They specialize in flipping houses and properties for a profit. They’d started small about twenty years or so ago but quickly grew, expanding into the Pacific Northwest region. Their growth was the reason I reached out to them in the first place, only to find out that they were looking to expand on the East Coast and New England States, which led me to believe we were an ideal partner for their endeavors. With so many branches and properties, they need a company like ours to take over the construction side of things, so they can focus their efforts on sales.

It’s a huge deal.

Following our visit to Phoenix, they flatly rejected every single offer put forth by Ecclestone Construction, as well as declining an offer from one of our main competitors, Humphries Properties. Apparently, my work with the Grangers was what convinced them to proceed with us in the first place, and this time, I’m not going to let such an influential client get away.

It’s unnecessary to explain to Eden how important Harbor View Developments is to us. In the weeks she’s been working as my assistant, she’s already become fully in the picture.

With Aunt Eleanor safely at Hattie’s, Eden and I start the day bright and early. So early in fact that I ignore my “we can’t drive in together” rule, because we both need to be in the office as soon as possible to prepare. These are tumultuous times, and nobody will think twice about me and my assistant working closely together day and night. We’re early enough that even Gwen, our front desk manager, isn’t there. It’s still the night guard who stifles a yawn the moment we step off the elevator. The entire drive in and way up to the office, I fill Eden in on any last-minute changes she needs to know.

She takes the whole thing in stride, pounding down the Starbucks coffee and their breakfast sandwich I ordered in the drive-thru for her before she heads off to the conference room to get it ready.

While she handles the small details, I go through my notes one last time. My numbers are sound. I’ve run them several times with the board and gone through line by line myself. I’ve given hundreds of presentations throughout my life, and while I’m not the least bit nervous, there’s still a nagging feeling in the back of my mind—like I’m waiting for the unexpected twist, the other shoe to drop.

I hear Eden open the glass door and walk in, and a few seconds later, I stand to meet her at her desk. “I need you to double-check the file I just sent you and print out four more sets,” I say, my eyes focused on the tablet in my hand.

When Eden doesn’t respond, I look up at her. Immediately I can tell something’s wrong by the look on her face. “What’s going on?”

She holds up her finger to tell me to wait. My eyebrows jolt upward, and right before I press for an answer, I see Huxley walk by the glass door and disappear into his office. I glance at my watch. It’s still early, and he’s never been in before eight o’clock.

Eden lowers her finger and gives me a look that doesn’t sit well with me. She closes the glass door and keeps her voice low. “I overheard Mr. Huxley while I was setting up.”

“Judging by your expression he wasn’t making a social call.”

“Hardly. I don’t think he knew I was there because he was taking the call just outside the room.” She nudges me toward my office where we’re out of earshot. “I could tell he was talking about the meeting.”

“Today’s meeting with Harbor View?”

“Yes.”

“How? What did he say?”

“He was saying that the contract provides a loophole. Something about locking them into the quote they were given.”

I exhale. I know exactly what she’s talking about and what Huxley meant. “That’s it? That’s standard. We tend to aim on the higher side for our quotes to cover any unexpected changes or deals with the suppliers. It’s normal procedure.”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s not what I’m concerned about. I don’t know who he was talking to, but he mentioned something about not having an itemized breakdown of the cost or something and that he can use that to his advantage to get twice as much from them without them suspecting a thing.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yes. He used the term ‘milking the cow.’”

“Does he know you overheard his call?”

“I don’t know.”

“Anyway, it won’t happen, not on my watch,” I assure her. “He’s not the project manager. I am. And I don’t charge my clients for shit they don’t ask for.”

“Maybe you can offer the breakdown without the client having to ask for it,” she suggests. “It would provide full transparency about the project and would probably reassure them.”

“Of course, it’s procedure. Providing an itemized breakdown of costs is a common industry practice and is part of the bidding and contract negotiation process. A breakdown like that allows clients to see exactly where their money is being spent and helps them—and us—make informed decisions.”

“I see, but once a project is underway, the client’s point of contact would be the contractor. Is it possible that the contractor can somehow bypass this step?”

“Technically speaking, a contractor could choose not to provide an itemized breakdown, but that’s not going to happen here. The contractor is responsible for coordinating with subcontractors and suppliers, and ensuring that the project is completed on time, within budget, and to the client’s satisfaction, but he still has to relay everything back to me.”

“Unless he’s reassured, he can skip that step. Looks like somebody is trying to make a huge profit by trying to not openly provide the info at one point or the other. You should call Huxley out on it.”

I know Eden’s heart is in the right place, and I appreciate her input, but first, I need to hear what we’re dealing with before making decisions on how to smooth over any client’s lingering doubts.

“I’d rather tread carefully. We need the client to feel that we’re a united front.”

Eden doesn’t seem put out. She shrugs and returns to her seat. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss. Oh, oh! I have a thought! How about we meet them when they arrive in the lobby and bring them up?”

“That’s what we’ll do. Even better, we greet them in the parking lot.”

“Oh, brilliant idea, yes .”

Ten minutes before the presentation, a call from Gwen informs us that our driver who picked them up from the airport is two blocks away. “All right, we better get going then.”

I look at my watch. They’re on the dot. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go. Let’s do this. Let’s knock ’em dead.” She gives me a bright smile that entrances me, and I have to admit, her cheerfulness rubs off on me. I find myself in a positive mood as we leave the office. It’s reassuring to have a reliable ally in my corner.

On our way to the elevators, we cross paths with Huxley, who’s heading to the conference room. He ignores me completely, talking away on his cell. Judging by his conversation, I assume he’s on the phone with someone from the board.

“Yeah, yeah, we should wrap this meeting up within the hour,” he’s saying. “I’m confident we’ll nail this. And if we don’t, you can take it up with the project manager.”

When he ends the call, I give him a look. “Subtle, Huxley.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” He slips his phone into the front pocket of his jacket and looks at me. “We both know how important this meeting is. Do you think you’re up to the challenge?”

“When have I not been?”

“I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. This isn’t the only big-ticket client you’re juggling. And given what happened with the Grangers, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a little off your game.”

“If you’re trying to psyche me out, you’re doing a poor job of it.”

We part ways.

When we reach the parking lot, the limousine arrives, and we greet Joe Walsh and Adam Baker.

“Good morning, Joe, Adam,” I say, and we shake hands. “Glad you could join us today.”

Meeting them outside and bringing them up has provided a nice, personal touch.

While they’re both businessmen, they wear dark jeans and button-up flannel shirts, unlike the finely pressed suits Huxley and I wear. I enjoy their decision to maintain a casual dress code during our meeting, despite the high stakes of the billion-dollar deal we’re discussing today. Passing them on the street, you’d see two men who were used to getting their hands dirty rather than signing multi-million-dollar deals. I’m not judging—I’ve found the experience of working with them to be highly favorable compared to, let’s say, other business types.

“Thanks again for the driver and for meeting us downstairs,” Joe says as we all sit down in the conference room and the introductions and small talk are done. “This place is so huge, I’m certain we would have wandered around aimlessly if you hadn’t met us at the car.”

“Well, we’re always here to rescue lost souls in this labyrinth of a place.” Eden smiles.

“We understand that our facility can be expansive,” Huxley says, his tone subtly correcting her charming response, apparently oblivious to the fact that they’ve already met, and that her playful reply had been spot on, “but we’re pleased that you have found your way, and we extend a warm welcome to you.”

Everything goes smoothly after that. I give the presentation with zero issues or interruptions. I’ve made several refinements to the existing plan that further clarifies our objectives and strategies, and the new ideas provide additional direction to our plans, making it clear that our proposal is the best possible option.

In my mind, the meeting really is a formality to sign the contracts and seal the deal. At least, that’s what it’s supposed to be.

Once I finish the main talking points, I ask, “Any questions?”

“Yes, I have one.” Adam twirls the pen he’s holding in his fingers.

He’d been the one who’d left our meeting in Phoenix early. I haven’t spoken much with him over the phone or through email. Most of my dealings have been with Joe, which means I haven’t been able to get a read on Adam’s personality. Of the two partners, Joe seems to be the more personable one while Adam keeps to himself.

“I’d be glad to answer it for you,” I say. “What would you like to know?”

“I know what you quoted us, and your presentation was noticeably clear on what you could do for us within our budget. But I also know construction isn’t always so cut and dry. What if there is something unexpected that comes up?”

“We’ve prepared for any and all possible changes or adjustments in the original quote,” I assure him. “And, if for some reason something happens that we didn’t prepare for, you, of course, will be consulted before we go ahead with those changes.”

Joe smiles and nods along as I talk, while Adam remains still and stone-faced. He doesn’t look convinced or overly impressed.

“Let me answer your question. I am the Chief Financial Officer and branch manager here, after all.” Huxley speaks up, sitting straighter in his seat. “See, I was in real estate once upon a time as you both are, and I know what concerns you face moving forward with such a massive project. Rest assured, Carter has done all the legwork, and the quotation we are providing you with represents the optimal price for the services you require. Of course, if there are still concerns, allow me to set your mind at ease.”

I know exactly what he’s doing. Because I’ve seen him do it before. He’s trying to endear himself to the client, to get on their good side and butter them up so they’ll feel more comfortable with him, the individual who’s perceived as reliable and supportive of their interests—as opposed to me. I don’t know what bothers me more, the fact he would be so full of himself to make such a shitty move or the fact I know it could work.

“I understand cost and budget are major concerns,” I interject, barreling over whatever Huxley is going to say next. “Unless you have further specifications regarding the proposals presented today, we will—of course—put together an itemized breakdown of the cost for you. This breakdown will include a detailed list of all the services and materials required for the project, as well as their corresponding costs. Also, you will have my direct number. This way, even when our contractor takes over, you can always reach me with any concerns.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Huxley freeze.

I’m not about to lose this client, especially not to Huxley. My words are exactly what Adam needs to hear.

His shoulders relax, and he finally nods. “That would be appreciated, thanks,” he says. “I don’t mean to be difficult, but the reason I ask is that we’ve been screwed over before.”

“Our reputation speaks for itself,” I tell him. “Transparency is important to us. Our goal is to provide you with clear and concise information, so you have a full understanding of the scope of the project and the associated costs. The contractors and our accounting department will be happy to provide any invoice with a detailed price breakdown before it’s sent. Sound good?”

Huxley agrees hastily. “See, gentlemen? Legacy is the best for a reason. We deliver personal service and have your interests at heart.”

For the first time since he arrived, Adam’s face cracks into a smile. It’s a small one, but it’s there. “Yeah, sounds good.” He looks over at Joe. “You ready to sign this thing?”

It takes another twenty-five minutes to go through the contract and sign and initial every line, however, once it’s done, I shake their hands.

I don’t trust Huxley’s good mood and the sway of his sail for a second. One minute, he’s trying to screw the client over, and the next, he’s applauding my decisions. Eden’s accidental eavesdropping on his phone call leaves no doubt that it’s an act, but I can’t address it at the moment.

Once everything is signed and the meeting concluded, Eden bids our guests farewell, subtly hinting that she has tasks to complete before her boss grows displeased. Adam and Joe chuckle, clearly charmed by her. They regretfully decline my lunch invitation due to pressing work obligations that require them to return to Phoenix, and I personally walk them down to the lobby myself. I don’t want to risk Huxley or anyone else throwing a curveball on the way out.

“You know, one of the things that really sealed the deal was your assistant,” Joe says as we ride the elevator down.

“How so?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“During our interactions in the last few days, she couldn’t stop praising you or the company,” Adam explains. “The way she went out of her way to answer all the questions with a genuine interest in offering us the best possible solution, I would have sworn she had worked here for years. We were surprised when she said she’d been around for a fraction of that.”

“Our father always said, if your assistant thinks the world of you,” Joe adds, “you must be doing something right as a boss.”

“Exactly,” Adam agrees. “So, congrats on hiring her!”

A pleasant sensation spreads through my chest. It’s the second time I’ve felt genuine pride at having Eden as part of my staff. By the sound of things, she weaseled around telling them that she started here less than two weeks ago. It’s comforting to know I have such a savvy assistant on my team.

When I part ways with Joe and Adam, I enjoy feeling confident at the outcome of the meeting.

As I walk back into the building, Gwen gets my attention. “Mr. Bancroft?”

“Yes?”

“Your aunt just went up about ten minutes ago.”

My heart stops. “What do you mean my aunt just went up?”

Her smile falters at my tone, and she quickly adjusts her glasses. “Mrs. Toussaint stopped by to see you. I’m sorry, was I not supposed to send her up? In the past, you’ve given your permission.”

Shit. I have to get back to my office fast.

“No, it’s fine, thanks, Gwen.” I make a beeline for the elevator.

Why? Why is my aunt in the office? Is she okay? And why in the world is the damn elevator taking forever today? When I finally arrive, there’s Aunt Eleanor, chatting with Eden at her desk like she hasn’t a care in the world. When she sees me, she smiles brightly.

“Cartie! Sweetheart! How was your meeting?”

I relax.

“Auntie, what are you doing here?”

“I came to take you two to lunch,” she says as though it’s completely obvious, and I should have expected it. “ Surprise ! I know it is a little early, but you both work so hard, and I was feeling much better, so I thought it would be the perfect time to stretch my legs.”

“You shouldn’t be making the trip all the way here. You know you need to rest.”

“Oh, please, it is not like I walked. Hattie dropped me off after our pedicure. Honestly, Carter, stop worrying so much. You worry way too much, am I right, Eden?”

“Eleanor, why don’t you and I head out to lunch and Carter can join us in a few minutes,” Eden gently suggests, putting her arm around my aunt. “He has a few things he needs to wrap up before he’s ready for his break.”

Just like earlier, Eden has my back. She’s trying her hardest to get my aunt out of the office without everyone seeing the three of us leave together as the “happy family” that we’ve apparently become.

“Oh, excellent idea,” my aunt says to my relief. “But Eden, dearie, didn’t we agree that you call me ‘Auntie’? Did you already forget? Cartie, mon chéri , we’ll meet you at the restaurant. What’s that place you like to go to with your clients?”

“Actually, I saw a wonderful new little bistro on one of my walks,” Eden recommends. “The Sweet Spot. I’ve wanted to try it for days now. How about we go there instead?”

“Love it!”

“I’ll walk you two to the elevator,” I say, holding the door open for them. I’m not about to let my aunt wander out of my sight without at least some form of support—and without making sure that she doesn’t run into anybody and “accidentally” spill the beans about our secret marriage. The last thing I want is to give Huxley any kind of ammunition.

After making a call to Gwen to arrange for a driver, Eden grabs her purse and the two walk arm in arm out of the office lobby. I don’t think anything of it since my aunt is slow-moving, and I know people will assume Eden is being polite. We’re almost home free until we turn the corner, and I notice a small group hanging by the elevators. I recognize Huxley’s assistant Gretchen, and the two other administrative assistants, Lexi and Jaylin.

“Oh, Gretchen!” My aunt beams, dragging Eden to Huxley’s assistant. “ Bon jour ! How nice to see you again!”

My aunt has met her a couple of times over the years when she’s had to fill in occasionally. Dammit. The longer she stays in the office chatting with everyone, the higher the chance of something going wrong. I understand that she wants to catch up, but if we don’t get her onto the elevator soon, there’s no telling what will come out of her mouth.

“Hello, Mrs. Toussaint. It’s wonderful to see you again,” Gretchen greets her politely. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, just visiting. Thought I would take my nephew and his new wife out to lunch.”

And there it is.

Gretchen appears confused, and the others stare at me and Eden with wide eyes.

“Assistant.” Eden laughs. “She means new assistant.”

Damn, she’s fast.

“This one, always trying to marry me off,” I say, motioning to my aunt, easily downplaying the slip-up. I know I should be unsettled that my aunt had just called Eden my wife in front of our staff—but I’m not. Eden is calm, cool, and collected, and so am I.

The doors to the elevator open, and Eden urges my aunt onto it. “Come on, Eleanor. Let’s go down to the lobby. Your nephew will join shortly.”

The last thing I hear before the doors close is my aunt saying, “Did I misspeak?”

Eden and I share a look before the door shuts, and I’m faced with the small group in the hallway, each of the three women giving me curious looks.

“It was nice to see your aunt again.” Gretchen is the first to speak up. “She looks so vibrant, as if she hasn’t aged a bit.”

Jaylin nods in agreement. “That’s what I noticed too. How long is she staying in New York?”

“Hold on, wait…did your aunt just call your assistant your wife ?” Lexi interrupts with a giggle. “That’s such a funny mishap, Mr. Bancroft! After all, she is kinda your work-wife, isn’t she?”

Keeping things professional, I clear my throat. “Please, excuse my aunt. She’s struggling a little with her health lately and not doing well. She’s staying in the city until she gets better. Have a nice day, everyone.”

Of course, my aunt’s health issue is physical rather than mental, but I don’t need to tell them that. Gretchen, Jaylin, and Lexi nod in understanding, accepting my answer at face value like I knew they would. Eden’s response had been quick and genuine, really selling the whole thing as a mix-up. No one even bothers to ask why my aunt would be taking me and my assistant out to lunch—it’s plausible that I’d simply asked Eden to accompany us. My curt statement seems to drive home the point that it actually is none of their business.

“Have a nice day too, Mr. Bancroft.” Lexi beams at me.

“Hope your aunt gets better soon, Mr. Bancroft,” Jaylin says.

I turn to go back to my office, carefully scanning my surroundings for Huxley. He’s nowhere in sight. Good. I’m glad he wasn’t present to witness anything that might have raised his suspicions. With everything else going on, I need to stay on high alert. The bullshit he had pulled in the meeting—or at least tried to pull—is troubling. Did he know Eden had overheard him? Maybe Huxley had even banked on her telling me. Over the last few months, he’s made it perfectly clear—at least to me—that he doesn’t have the company’s best interests at heart.

I wish I had a way to prove it.

Determined not to let Huxley spoil the rest of my day, I make a few last calls, change from my three-piece suit into a dress shirt and jeans, before joining my ladies out to lunch.