Chapter 4
By nine the next morning, I had decided the bet with Russell was a joke.
I had left the house before anyone else came downstairs. By the time I reached the temporary design office inside the Mercer Hotel, I had buried the memory beneath emails.
Plastic covered the hotel floors while drills echoed constantly from somewhere above the temporary office.
I opened my laptop and pulled up the floor plans.
The Mercer renovation was supposed to be my break. Forty eight guest suites divided between six layouts. Six weeks of work that could finally give me something impressive enough to place at the front of my portfolio.
Something that might persuade a company to keep me for longer than one contract.
By ten, I had corrected the lighting schedule, rebuilt two presentation boards and gone almost an hour without thinking about Russell.
Then Richard Sloan entered the office.
The office fell silent. Silver threaded Sloan’s dark hair, and his pale eyes moved between the desks before stopping on my screen.
“Why is that wall green?”
The sage wall covering was paired with walnut, brass and cream linen.
“You approved the sage palette yesterday.”
Sloan leaned toward the screen. “I approved something sophisticated. That looks like a hospital waiting room.”
Heat crept into my face as the other designers suddenly became interested in their work.
“The client selected it yesterday.”
Sloan picked up the material board, examined it briefly, then dropped it into the bin beneath my desk. “Present better options.”
I stared at the sage fabric poking out between a coffee cup and someone’s discarded lunch.
“The selection is recorded in the client notes,” I said carefully. “Changing it means another approval meeting.”
His head turned toward me. “Are you telling me I have forgotten what the client selected?”
“No. I’m explaining why it could affect the schedule.”
His gaze dropped to the contractor badge around my neck. “Your responsibility is producing the work, Ward. Mine is deciding whether it is good enough.”
He placed a folder on my keyboard. “Replace the palettes for all six layouts. Two presentation boards for each before you leave.”
My eyes lifted to his. “Mr Sloan, these took most of yesterday to assemble.”
“Then stop wasting time defending them. There are twenty designers who would be grateful for this opportunity.”
He walked away before I could answer.
I swallowed the tightness in my throat, pulled my board from the rubbish and started again.
At six thirty, chairs rolled away from desks, coats disappeared from hooks and conversations drifted towards the elevators. I checked the time.
The last bus left at eight forty. If I packed now, I could finish at home and still make it.
Jamie and the others had left for an away game across the state line. The house would be empty and free of hockey captains who believed I would lose control within two weeks.
I saved my work and slid the laptop into my bag.
“Where are you going?”
Sloan stood in the doorway.
“Home. I can finish the remaining boards remotely.”
“Project files do not leave the site.”
“Everything is stored on the company drive.”
“The drive is restricted to company premises until the client presentation.”
My grip tightened around the strap. “If I stay, I’ll miss the last bus. I don’t have another way home.”
Sloan glanced at his watch. “Finish the boards. I’ll arrange for the company car to take you.”
He turned and walked away.
At eight fifty eight, I pressed the final fabric sample into place and stacked the completed boards against my chest.
My fingers cramped around their edges as I hurried towards Sloan’s office.
The room was dark.
His chair sat beneath the desk. His laptop was gone, and the hook where his coat had been hanging was empty.
I carried the boards downstairs, but there was no company car outside.
I placed them on the desk and called Sloan. The first call rang out. He rejected the second.
He answered the third with music thudding behind him. Someone laughed nearby, followed by the clink of glasses.
“You said there would be a car.”
There was a pause. “You’re still there?”
“You told me to finish the boards.”
“And it took you this long? The driver finished at eight thirty.”
I stared through the glass doors at the rain washing over the empty road.
“I arranged one. Your poor time management caused you to miss it.”
When he spoke again, every trace of patience had disappeared. “Call someone who cares, Ward.”
The line went dead.
I remained beside the reception desk with the phone pressed against my ear.
“Miss?”
I turned. The security guard stood near the entrance with his keys in one hand.
“I have to set the alarm and lock the building.”
I nodded even though my body had not caught up yet. My phone showed two percent battery.
The ride app searched while I packed the boards into the storage cabinet. The circle turned once, twice, then stopped.
NO DRIVERS AVAILABLE.
“Is someone coming for you?” the guard asked.
“I’m trying.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You can wait beneath the entrance canopy, but I have to lock these doors.”
The rain was deafening when I stepped outside.
The lock clicked behind me, and the lobby disappeared into darkness.
The time changed to 9:04.
My phone flashed one percent.
I opened Jamie’s last message. He had sent me every number in the house when I arrived and made me promise that I would call if I ever got stuck.
Standing outside a locked construction site thirty miles from home definitely counted.
I called Jamie first.
His phone rang until voicemail answered. I tried again, watching the battery symbol remain red at the top of the screen.
Nothing.
Micah did not answer. Paddy’s phone rang twice before disconnecting. Tom went straight to voicemail, and Kieran’s rang so long that the screen dimmed beneath my wet thumb.
One number remained in Jamie’s message.
Russell Hale.
I stared at his name while rainwater ran from my hair and beneath the collar of my coat.
I pressed the number.
He answered before the second ring.
Noise exploded through the speaker. A crowd roaring, someone shouting in the distance, then the heavy slam of a door. When Russell spoke, his voice sounded rough and slightly breathless.
“Darcy?”
Relief moved through me so quickly that my knees weakened.
I wrapped my free arm around my body and tried to stop my teeth from chattering.
“Hi.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “I need a favour.”