A few minutes later I hear a light knock at the door. I open the door to a huge bouquet of flowers. Geeze, who are they from? Frank pushes past me, waddles to the kitchen, and sets them down on the granite countertop. He gives me a big toothy grin. I thank him, give him a cupcake and then send him on his way. I can tell he’s a bit disappointed that I don’t open the card while he’s here. I was nervous to. I can’t imagine who would send me such a grand display of floral finery. The aroma wafting into my living space is intoxicating. I grab the note and sit on a stool at the counter.
I quickly open the card with shaky fingers. I am almost dreading it, worried that it could be from Bradley. He’s the last person I want any interaction with right now!
A sigh of relief escapes my lips. What a relief, it’s not from Bradley. However, a new sensation comes over me as I bypass the message and look straight at the name. Harrison Towers. The message reads:
I look forward to our collaboration. I hope that you are on the same page as I am. See you Tuesday.
So, that’s odd. It makes me excited and confused. I’ve never had a client send me flowers in anticipation of doing business together. Maybe that’s how it’s done in his world. At any rate, I love the flowers. I wonder what the protocol is. Should I send a thank you note? I had better consult my mother on this.
I text her:
4:52 PM
Me
If a client sends you flowers in anticipation of doing biz, should I send a thank you note.
4:53 PM
Mom’s Cell
Honey, who sent you flowers? Is this the mogul guy?
4:54 PM
Me
Yes, Harrison Towers, do I send a thank you if I am going to see him on Tuesday?
4:55 PM
Mom’s Cell
Why is he sending you flowers again?
Aaack! I guess she doesn’t get it!
4:56PM
Me
Mom, he sent flowers with a note that said he looks forward to working together.
4:57 PM
Mom’s Cell
Honey, Daddy says you should play hard to get and do not send a note. It’s too eager.
Oh brother, now she’s engaged Dad.
4:57 PM
Me
Ok, tell dad I got it! Thanks!
I know better than to text Simone. She will come unglued, read a bunch into it, and assume he is trying to get into my pants. Sometimes I wish my best girlie was more like June Cleaver than a Samantha from
Sex in the City
.
By early afternoon Monday, I have put my final changes on the proposal and storyboard. I’m quite pleased with my work. I’m sure that Harrison Towers will like my plans for his buildings. After a couple dozen messages back and forth with Simone about what I’m going to wear, I feel quite ready for my meeting tomorrow.
I decide to order in some Indian food and hunker down for the night and get a good sleep. I always think a lot better when I have had my full eight hours of sleep.
By 10:00 PM, I have my face washed and teeth brushed, clothes are laid out, coffee is ready to go and alarm is set. I crawl into bed excited for tomorrow. My mind wanders to the day I bumped into Harrison on the beach last summer and I drift off to sleep.
All of the sudden I wake out of a dead sleep by the most excruciating pain in my abdomen. I realize that I am sweating buckets and I have folded my body into the fetal position. I move to get up and an overwhelming need to throw up comes over me. I run to my bathroom, tripping over the Flocari rug sending me soaring through the air while I uncontrollably proceed to projectile vomit. I land with a sickening thud on the hardwood floor, followed by another round of vomiting. Weakened, I struggle to push up on my arms and gain my bearings. I manage to crawl on my hands and knees the rest of the way to the bathroom to the toilet. Resting my head on the seat, I sit there on the cold floor going from throwing up to feeling as if I’m going to soil myself. I don’t know which end to keep in the toilet. This continues for what seems like hours. I must have fallen asleep on the floor because the next thing I know, I can hear my alarm clock blaring from the bedroom. I attempt to lift my head, but the throbbing pain that flares across the top of my head and down through my temples prevent that. I lay there for a few more minutes and then I will myself to get up.
I manage to drag myself back into bed. I look at the alarm clock and it says 6:00 AM. Great, maybe I can sleep this off for another couple of hours and then get ready. I reset the clock and drift back to sleep. When I awake again, it is not because of my alarm clock. It is my phone ringing. I look at the clock and it says 9:16 AM. Shit! Harrison Towers is supposed to be at my office downstairs in less than 45 minutes. I reach over to look at the caller ID. It’s an unknown caller. I let it go to voicemail.
I try to sit up but I’m once again assaulted with an overwhelming sense of nausea. Oh no, here I go again! This time I’m able to make it to the toilet only to have dry heaves. I can’t believe the number that Indian food has done on me. I splash water on my face and look in the mirror. What stares back at me is something out of a horror movie! My face is ashen white and my eyes are rimmed and hollow looking. With my head throbbing and the back of my throat burning from all the bile, I have to make a quick decision. Reschedule the meeting.
I creep back into my bedroom and sit on edge of the bed. I look through my phone and find the office of Harrison Towers' phone number on Google Search. I hit dial. I finally get a hold of his personal assistant after waiting on hold for almost five minutes. She sounds too damned perky for my mood and her accent is French too, which makes the conversation harder. I explain the situation to her and ask to reschedule for later in the day or perhaps Wednesday? She says that Harrison would be en route by now and that she will call to see if she can intercept him. I give her my cell and then hung up just in time to make another run for it.
A couple minutes later, I can hear my phone ringing in my bedroom while I’m wrapped around the cold porcelain toilet once again. My throbbing head makes it hard for me to think.
I answer the phone with barely a whisper, “Hello?”
“Danielle?”
It’s a male voice.
“Yes.”
“Hello, Danielle, it’s Harrison Towers. I understand you need to reschedule our meeting today.”
“Oh yes, I’m so sorry, but I have a touch of food poisoning and am in no shape to give you my presentation.”
Then what seems like a two-day pause.
“I see. Well, let me ask you this. Do you think I am going to be impressed with what you have put together?”
Another wave of nausea.
“Well yes, I do believe you will like what I have assembled.”
“Good. How well do you think your presentation will travel?”
“Excuse me. Travel?”
“Yes, how do you think it would do on a plane, for instance?”
“I guess it would do fine if I changed it around a little, it might be able to be checked as artwork.”
“Excellent, I have to be in New York Thursday for business that will take me through to the end of the week. I will send Philippe to pick you up Thursday morning. You can give me your presentation in New York, Thursday evening. I will have my assistant make the arrangements.”
What? Wait a minute!
“I’m sorry. Did you just say that I’m flying to New York to give you my presentation?”
“Yes, Danielle, I know it seems a bit unconventional, but you have to understand. I really need this project finished and I have deadlines to meet. I fly out next week to Montreal and need to know that the decorating and finishing of my Pied-à-terre is complete. Can you work with me on this short of notice?”
Geeze, even while I feel green as a toad I feel my face turning crimson again. He has the sexiest voice. I don’t want to kill this deal before I’ve even had a chance to show him what I can do. It’s odd, but I’m going to overrule my usual cautious self and say yes. Besides, I’m already going to be in for it with Simone when she finds out I’ve been holding out on her about the flowers. If I say no to this, she will burn me at the stake!
“You’re right, this is a bit unconventional and really rushed, but I’m up for the challenge. I’ll look forward to giving you my presentation in New York.”
“Great. In the meantime, drink plenty of liquids and get lots of rest. I will see you Thursday morning.”
“Thank you. I will. Oh, and thank you very much for the flowers. It was a very kind gesture.”
“Danielle, it was more than a gesture and I am glad you liked them. Goodbye.”
With that, the call drops and I run back to the bathroom.
More than just a gesture!?
Oh my. What does he mean by that? He is so hard to read.
Was that Mr. Mogul flirting with me in a strong, controlled sort of way?
Mmmmmm whatever it was I like it! In control, yes! NO! Stop! Don’t think like that.
He is totally off limits as a client not to mention the whole ‘I’m over men’ thing!
I’m going to New York with... Where will we stay? What do I bring to wear!?
Okay, for now I have to sleep this nasty stomach bug off and come back to the land of the living!
It’s Thursday morning and Harrison is picking me up at 11:00 AM to take off to New York.
I’ve thrown together my Las Vegas weekend bag. I’ve always been the type to be prepared for all situations. I have two dresses to wear in the evening, chic business attire for daytime, some loungewear and a silk baby doll and matching robe.
Surely, I’ll have my own room in the hotel where we’re staying. So, he’s flying me to New York with him to give my presentation. I wonder how often he’s flown women across the country to give presentations. No, I need to stop overanalyzing this. Harrison Towers would never be interested in a woman like me. But still, his words keep replaying in my head, “It is more than just a gesture.” I’ll just put that in the back of my mind for now. This man intrigues me, but I really need to concentrate on the job.
At exactly 11:00 AM, I peek out the window and a black town car is waiting outside my building. I quickly pick up my suitcase and take the elevator to the main floor. As soon as the elevator opens, there he is. In all of his glory. Grey suit pants, crisp clean white shirt tucked in with a slick black belt. A more casual but sophisticated look for
Mr. Towers
.
“Good morning, Danielle.”
“Allow me, please.” He grabs the handle of my suitcase and for a brief moment, our hands touch. There it goes again, the tingling and energy throbs through my entire body.
“Thank you.”
The driver takes my bag from Harrison and opens the door to the town car.
“I trust you are feeling better this morning?”
“Oh yes, thank you. A few days of R&R and I’m feeling a lot better.”
“Good. August is a wonderful time to be in the city. The weather is comfortable and the city comes alive.”
“Are we staying in the city?” I ask inquisitively.
“We are staying at my place on the Upper East Side. You will enjoy it. Lovely views of the city skyline and Central Park.”
His place? Of course, I should have known better. Why would it not cross my mind that he has a place in the city? I wonder how many bedrooms it has. Wow, how will this work. We will be staying under one roof for two days. That is a lot of time together. I have to text Simone; she’s going to die!