Page 70 of Broken Headboards

“Don’t you want to visit the manufacturing floor?” I ask. “Or see some of the workDominahas done throughout the years? Just so you can see our brand philosophy.”

“I don’t need to do that. Whenever I have a potential new client, I review all of their prior work to see if we are a good fit. So I’m already very familiar with the work your company has done since its first day in business, Ms. Armstrong. And I must commend you, truly. You’ve done a spectacular job. I see a many great things in your future, if I’m allowed to say so.”

For a second, I say nothing. What do you even say to something like that?

It just feels so fake.

As if its rehearsed.

Or as if he says this to everyone he meets.

Whatever. Just as long as he gives me a headboard design that’s a showstopper.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Giannoni. I’m definitely excited about this opportunity to work with someone like you,” I tell him as he heads out, and then I return to my seat.

Grinning—and smugly at that—I open my drawer once more and grab my glass of whisky. Leaning back, I take a sip out of it and prop my feet on top of the desk. My gaze drifts outside, to the lovely street in Queens where my building is, and I start to imagine how the view must be from a high-rise office in the middle of New York.

I figure I’m going to find out soon enough, won’t I? Once I sign my name on the dotted line, a few things are going to change in this town. And I’ll start by knocking Oakmont out of their pedestal.

There’s a new Queen in town, baby.

With my hands wrapped behind my head, I let a wave of excitement wash over me. This has been a hard war, but we’re already close to the finish line. Of course, there’s still a lot of work to be done—even though the centerpiece of my presentation will be the headboard, I still need to design the rest of the bedroom set.

Not that I’m worried about any of that.

I gaze down at my desk as my phone starts buzzing on top of it, and I smile as I see Austin’s name on the screen. He has quite the timing, no doubt.

“Mr. Randall, how are you this morning?” I tease him right away, unable to hide my excitement.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” he laughs from the other side of the line. “Anything you’d like to share?”

“Not particularly.” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from revealing my plans. Although I want nothing more than to share this moment with him, I have to keep my head in the game—when it comes to business, he remains the enemy. “But it seems like you’re a good mood too.”

“I am. I have quite the surprise come competition day.”

“Makes two of us,” I say with a laugh.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to keep it under wraps. But that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate. What do you say about dinner today?”

Austin’s right—I definitely need a celebration.

“Dinner it is, then.”