Page 109 of Inevitable Inheritance

“Listen, I am sick of being treated like I am going to break. I am in charge of running a damn industry—I think I can handle some people taking my freaking picture!”

“It isn’t just that, Taylor, they—”

“I have had enough of this. My redheaded handler/babysitter is about to blow a major vessel if I don’t leave now.”

He could tell she was pissed. “Okay well I will meet you at home.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I lo—” but Taylor hung up before he could finish.

Here it was, their first marital dispute. Derrick placed the phone in its cradle and rubbed his forehead. How did one handle this event? Flowers? Jewelry? Well, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong, had he?

Claire poked her head in as Derrick thought over his predicament. “Mr. Fletcher, I’m going to be heading out now.”

Derrick nodded at her. “Uh, Claire, I wanted to get something for Taylor. Her day has been, uh, not what she wanted—”

“First married fight?” Claire asked without missing a beat.

“Uhhhhhhh.”

“Stick with flowers for now, save the jewels and cars for when you really screw up.”

“Well, I didn’t—”

Claire crossed the room and came to his desk. “Mr. Fletcher, I have been married for twelve years, and a woman for thirty-six. Can I give you some advice?”

Derrick nodded, eager for anything that would help him smooth over the situation.

“Just always realize it is your fault, and don’t try to tell her it’s not. This will save you a lot of trouble and money on flowers,” she advised. “And whatever you do, for the love of everything holy, don’t ever ask if it is ‘her time of the month.’ I like my job and don’t want to have to plan your funeral.”

“Uh, thank you, Claire,” Derrick said, wide-eyed. He was wondering if perhaps he should have taken notes.

“You’re welcome. Call Oswald’s and get some tulips—roses are too cliché,” she said as she made her way back to the door. “Good night and good luck,” she called back as she pulled it closed behind her.

Derrick quickly pulled out his phone, looked up the florist, and then saved the number to his contacts before calling. He might need them more than he would want with that advice.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Taylor had takenover Derrick’s office at the penthouse and had her company laptop, the PC, and her iPhone on speaker as she spoke with her head of hotels, the interior designer, and the construction head on the progress on the updates for the Preston Hotel chains. She was irritated, and she knew it radiated through, but this meeting was supposed to be happening at her office, where she wouldn’t need to look for things, where she knew where everything was.

But instead she was in this stupid room, with the stupid desk and the stupid loud-ass clock and the stupid chair that hurt her back. And Todd and Charlie were there too, but there was only one other stupid chair in there, and so one of them had to stand. And the iPhone was not ideal to hear on for a huge meeting, and the whole thing was stupid.

It had been an hour, and they were wrapping it up, and Taylor was certain her blood pressure was up, way up.

“Okay, well, thank you, everyone, for being so accommodating to this change in events and making this meeting still happen. Jerry, we will be going forward with the new plan tomorrow on all sites, correct?”

“Yes, Ms. Preston, I mean, Mrs. Preston-Fletcher,” the man stumbled.

“Just Taylor, please,” she asked, exasperated. She had said that a million times this conversation, but she was sure her snippy attitude had done nothing to assure anyone they could be informal with her. “Great. And Dale and Greta, you will get the new samples to Camille when again?”

“Friday.”

“Okay, perfect. And, Camille, we will meet up Friday afternoon and review, sound good?”

“Of course, uh, Taylor,” the usually chill woman responded, sounding a bit tense herself.

Time to end this meeting. “Okay, everyone. Thanks again, and have a good night. Sorry for my poor mood!”