Harlequin Superromance February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: His Forever Girl\Moonlight in Paris\Wife by Design (10 page)

“Hey, you must be the Ullo chick,” he said with a shy smile.

Ullo chick?

“Yes, I'm Tess Ullo,” she said with a businesslike nod.

“Yeah, I actually met you once at one of the balls. Endymion? I don't remember. Anyway, Monique's on a call right now. Negotiation's her deal. Have a seat over there. Can I grab you a coffee? Water?”

Tess walked over to the small reception area and sat in one of the folding chairs, pressing her hands over her navy pencil skirt. “No, thank you.”

“Oh, I'm Josh, by the way. I'm Monique's partner and husband.” He gave her another smile. Josh's face looked lean and hungry, like a stray dog. He had an earring that dangled, a soul patch on his chin and wore a newsboy tweed hat to complement his New Orleans artist look.

She might be biased but if Monique was stupid enough to trade Graham in for this guy, she might not want to work for the woman. Josh wasn't unattractive by any means, but Graham made Josh look like the Shaggy to his buff Fred.

Some girls liked a Shaggy, but Mr. Uptight Naquin who performed magic with his mouth and had a butt she could bounce quarters off was definitely more Tess's type. To each her own.

The office door opened and Monique swept into the reception area like a queen greeting her subject.

“Ah, Tess Ullo. You actually showed up,” she said in a melodious voice.

Monique wore a tight pair of leggings beneath a bright sweater that dropped to midthigh. Her dark wavy hair brushed thin shoulders revealed by the wide boatneck. Her flawless skin was enhanced by subtle makeup and large diamonds winking in her ears. Blood-red polish tipped her elegant fingers. She made Tess feel like an over-dressed heifer.

“Yes, and I appreciate your replying to my inquiry.”

Monique gave a secret little smile. “You're Frank Ullo's daughter, and I'm thinking you're a pissed off Frank Ullo's daughter, so of course I'm interested, darling.”

Tess raised her eyebrows, struggling to her feet in the serviceable pumps, wishing she hadn't dressed so formally. Fish out of water.

“Come on in. Josh, get us some coffees around the corner.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Josh joked with a salute.

In that instant Tess totally understood why Graham hadn't lasted with Monique. Tess waited to see if the woman would mutter “good boy” before following her into the office.

Seconds later Tess sank into the armchair situated in front of Monique's massive modern steel desk. Monique landed on her bright red office chair as gracefully as a butterfly and popped a pair of glasses on her nose. Extending her hand she blinked at Tess.

Tess stared at her.

“I'm waiting to see your designs,” Monique said. She might as well have added “dumb ass.”

“Oh, sorry,” Tess said, opening the attaché and pulling out a folder before placing it in Monique's hand.

Monique waffled through the designs, her eyes narrowing, occasionally turning the paper this way or that. “These are good.”

“Thank you,” Tess murmured.

“But let me be honest,” Monique said, tossing the copies onto her immaculate desk. “I'm not looking for an art designer so much as I'm looking for someone who can bring in new business. That's why I left you a message yesterday.”

Tess didn't know what to say to that. She'd wanted to do design work only. Felt less Benedict Arnold.

Monique smiled. “You intrigue me. Even more than having considerable experience in the float decorating business, I like what you're doing—a little revenge, if I'm not mistaken. Your old man pissed you off by hiring Graham, and you want him to pay. I love that kind of emotion. It burns holes in things. It makes things happen. Know what I mean?”

“You're saying you want to hire me because one, I'm an Ullo, two, I'm pissed at my father and three, you love the idea of stealing from your ex-husband.”

“Not my ex-husband. I was smart enough not to marry Graham. That would have been disastrous.” Monique snorted and it was cute. When Tess snorted it wasn't cute. More like a sinus infection.

“But—”

“Yes, we have a child together. But that's all. Graham and I are water under a bridge with a fast current.”

Tess relaxed a little. She didn't really know what to think about Monique. Part of her didn't like the relish showed at one-upping not only her competition but her ex-lover. Like a predator, Monique smelled blood on the trail. Yet part of Tess warmed to the same idea—she wanted to make her father pay for his mistake...and Graham, too. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Still, Monique put her on edge. There was something untamed about the woman and Tess knew she wasn't one to trust.

So who went to work for someone like Monique?

Someone reckless. Someone fueled by emotion and not thinking clearly. Someone who needed to prove herself.

Someone exactly like Tess.

“I can put you on as co-director of art and design and I will pay you well, but I want something in return.”

Tess raised her eyebrows.

“Some of Frank Ullo's business.”

Tess's gut heaved at the thought of tearing clients away from the company she'd helped build over the last few years. Her name was attached to that business. Tess couldn't take from the company that had given her so much. She set her feet on the floor, intending to leave, but then that same inner voice that had prodded her to contact Monique Dryden whispered to her now.

Didn't seem to matter to your father, did it?
Daddy doesn't think you're vital to his business. He thinks Graham can do better. Prove him wrong, Tess. Tell her
yes.

Tess tossed her hair, her confidence returning. “My plan was for design work—”

“If that is all you have to offer, I'm not interested,” Monique said, crossing her arms. “I have a designer and I oversee all proposals. It would be overkill. But I'm willing to pay for your ‘experience' with the krewes.”

Tess stared at the hot pink stapler sitting on the desk, realizing Monique desired what Joe Rizzolo and every other company would desire—her ability to snag business. This wasn't about her talent. “Well, I have the keys to the kingdom. As point woman for the krewes we did business with, I have a list of contacts a mile long and a good relationship with each captain and art director.”

“Which is why I'm happy to pay you handsomely,” Monique said, her mouth stretching into a grin over white teeth. Passing Tess several papers, Monique sank back into her chair. “This is my offer along with contract terms.”

So formal. Tess allowed her gaze to flicker over the salary which was more than fair. So final.

If she signed on with Upstart, she'd be betraying all she'd been. An Ullo working for the competition? Tess could hardly fathom the thought, but she needed a job. Her father might have covered tuition and helped finance her loft, but Tess paid her own way. She had two months' rent in her savings, but that was it. She needed a job sooner rather than later and once she signed on, her designs would convince Monique she was an asset in more than one way. “Can I have until Wednesday? I need to have my attorney review these.”

“Of course, but no longer. Your service to Upstart is valuable right now. We have a month or so to pin down these krewes and set our contracts for 2016. I still need some floats rented for 2015.”

Rising, Tess extended her hand. “I'll be in touch. Thank you for taking this meeting and for the offer.”

Monique ignored Tess's hand and instead picked up the drawings, shoved them in a folder and handed them to Tess. “I know what you're thinking. I'm too ambitious. Maybe even bloodthirsty. Does that scare you?”

Tess shook her head.

Monique laughed. “It's okay. I
am
ambitious. I want to succeed. This business has been a good ol' boy network for too long. I bet you did a lot of your father's work, but the krewes wanted to deal with Daddy, didn't they?”

“Yeah, but that's the way it is down here.”

“Maybe so, but I'm tired of being marginalized and I think we can do great things together, Tess. Take that anger at being thought of as less and channel it into something new and challenging. Come be a part of a company that refuses to be shoved aside because a woman runs it. Time to prove to the world that Tess Ullo can stand on her own two feet.” Monique moved around the corner of her desk and glanced down at Tess's shoes.

Tess frowned. “Yeah, I know. I thought they looked like interview shoes.”

Monique smiled, this time looking younger and not so apt to eat her young. “A little tame, but you can buy something fierce with your first paycheck. You'll need something fabulous to wear to schmooze with the clients. In the business world, a gal has to be willing to use every advantage she has.”

“Even her legs?” Tess joked.

“Especially her legs,” Monique said, assessing Tess again. “You're pretty, and with the right clothes and makeup, you'd be devastating.”

“Thanks, I think,” Tess said inching toward the door, shoving both the contract and the folder in her case. “I'll be in touch.”

Josh bumbled in with a tray holding three cups of coffee.

“I'll be waiting for good news,” Monique said, reaching out for her cup, nodding at Josh to give Tess hers.

Tess refused the cup and instead pushed out the door into the cloudy Monday. The day reflected her emotions—gray.

Or maybe not so gray. After all, she'd just gotten a job offer.

One she really didn't want.

But this is what she'd set into motion when she'd mailed her resume last week. She'd have to deal with it.

Her phone buzzed in her purse, and hope sprang inside her. Maybe it was her father calling to say this was all a bad nightmare. Or maybe it was Graham calling to say...what?

There was nothing left to say between them.

They were over before they'd even gotten out the gate. Okay, they'd gotten out the gate several pleasurable times, but the race had already been run. Both she and Graham were losers.

It was Gigi.

“Hey,” Tess said into the phone.

“Come meet me for lunch. I got a scoop.”

“On what?” Tess pressed the button on her key fob and unlocked her car.

“Your man, that's who.”

Tess blew out a breath. “Gigi, I don't have a man.”

“Nick has dumped Miss Slutfest and is out and about. He told Shari Grabel he missed you.” Gigi made a low noise in her throat.

“Well, I don't miss him. If you like Nick so much, why don't you date him?”

“Maybe I will.” Gigi laughed. “Is he good in bed?”

“Lord, Gigi,” Tess complained, pulling her seatbelt on. “I'll meet you because I've got a scoop...and a contract for you to review.”

“You got the job at Upstart?” Gigi crowed, before lowering her voice. “I would be happy to review that contract for you at a time of your convenience, Ms. Ullo.”

Tess rolled her eyes. “See you in a few.”

Tossing her phone on the seat, Tess pulled away from the Upstart office, nestled next to the den they'd built from an abandoned grain storehouse in the 9th Ward. Her life had been turned entirely upside down. But she might as well go to lunch with Gigi. She hoped wherever they went had ice cream. Suddenly, she felt like she needed a double scoop with chocolate sauce.

CHAPTER TEN

G
RAHAM
HAD
SPENT
all of Monday and Tuesday in meetings with the team at Ullo and in impromptu lunches or cocktails with board members and captains of various krewes. Tess's leaving had stunned the team at Ullo and many of the major players who wrote the checks for the krewes were nervous about a new person taking charge of one of the oldest float builders and decorators in the Crescent City. Graham had smiled so much his face hurt.

Frank had given him an empty office that had been used for storing files and supplies. His new assistant, Billie, had grabbed one of the full-time painters and had him clear out the boxes and bring in an unused large wood table and chair. The rest had been left to Graham, but much like his new apartment, the space remained Spartan.

He'd just sunk into his chair when a knock sounded at the door. “Come in.”

Frank stormed in like he owned the place...which Graham supposed he technically did. “I'm going to kill her.”

“Who?”

“Tess. She went to work for your old company.”

“Wait! What? Tess is working for Upstart?” Something heavy dropped in his stomach. Tess had gone to work for Monique? “Why?”

“To punish me, of course.” Frank leaned across the desk and knocked his knuckles against the calendar blotter that was still pristine. “To punish you.”

“Shit.”

“You can say that again.”

“Shit.”

Frank rubbed a weary hand over his face and stepped back. “Already got a call from Edward Mendez's office. Tess has her claws in him and has subbed a bid for outfitting and renting most of Pan's floats. She knows what we charge and she's going to undercut us. She's also friends with Edward's daughter-in-law. This ain't good. The Krewe of Pan is a big account.”

Graham straightened. “We can deal with it. We have your reputation and I have inside knowledge of how Upstart works.”

“We gotta take a meeting with Ed. Whatever he wants, he gets. Understand? We gotta make sure we keep the super krewes before even considering harvesting some of the smaller krewes around the metro area. We have the talent and workforce here. Gotta move and shake.”

“What about you?”

Frank sighed and sank gingerly into the folding chair. His face fell as if he just grasped the ramifications of his former VP and daughter working for the competition. “I won't be here much.”

Graham sighed before he could catch himself.

“I know. I had hoped to have Tess to ease you into this, to be your guide, but with things the way they are in my personal life...”

“Can you clarify for me?”

“I know you know something is wrong, and you're a perceptive man.” Frank looked at the closed door, his thoughts obviously drifting away. Graham gave him space and sat quietly as the older man gathered his words. “Thing is, I have pancreatic cancer.”

“Jesus,” Graham breathed, reeling back so that his chair butted into the wall. He'd known something was up with Frank's health, but pancreatic cancer was almost always a death sentence. “What is... How...”

How did you ask a man something like how long you got?

“Three to six months, depending on the success of the chemo. I actually start this week over at Oschner. It's gonna make me sick and I won't be able to do much other than puke my guts up for the next few weeks.”

Graham had no words. How could he?

Frank stared down at his clasped hands. “Everything's pretty much screwed. This whole thing with Tess. I don't know what to do. I never thought she'd be this mad. Never thought she'd turn her back on family and quit the business.”

“But you knew she'd be hurt,” Graham noted.

“Sure. She's like her mother. She don't like when she has no say so I knew she'd be ticked, but I thought eventually she'd see things my way. This,” he waved a hand in the air, “ain't a one-person job. You gotta have someone to be your right hand.”

Graham wondered if he could make things easier for Frank. He couldn't. Nothing would be easy for this man. He faced dying and a daughter who was angry enough to take her talents and knowledge to the competition. “It will be okay.”

Frank looked up. “No, it won't.”

“So we will make it okay. You have a viable, reputable business that has always put forth outstanding product, and now you have me. Fate led us to one another. You can trust me. I, too, have contacts. And experience. We needed Tess, but we won't let that stand in our way.”

Frank looked down at his hands, looking older than he had when Graham had first met him. For a few moments the man didn't speak. “My whole life I've always known what to do. Always. But I've lost a grip on this.”

“The truth usually works, Frank. I'm assuming neither Tess nor your sons know about your illness?”

“Joe knows. He's the one who set me up with an oncologist, but he can't tell anyone on account of a confidentiality clause. He's upset I haven't told everyone yet, but I wanted to do it—”

“On your terms,” Graham finished the statement for him.

“No, that's not what I was going to say. I didn't want to do it at Easter is all.”

“You're facing a tough battle, Frank. Not here at Ullo—that's why you hired me. I'm going to take care of things here.” Even as he spoke the words, he said a small prayer that it would be true. That he could rally the troops that had been lackluster at best, keep the accounts they had and give Frank some peace of mind. “But you've got to help yourself as you prepare to fight cancer. You need your team, and Maggie needs support and help. Tell your family and allow them to do what they need to do for you.”

For a second Frank bristled and Graham prepared to argue, but then it was as if the air leaked out of him. “How do I tell them? How do I destroy all they've known about me?”

“I've only known you for a short time, Frank, but I sense your biggest flaw is your desire to handle every aspect of not only your life, but your kids'. You don't like to be weak, and I get that—it's in our makeup as men. But fact is, you're not merely man, but human. Which means you are vulnerable. Don't allow pride to stand in your way of admitting you were wrong or of asking for help.”

Frank rolled Graham's words around in his mind—Graham could see the battle within the man who stepped down yesterday at the CEO, officially handing the reins of the company to Graham with little fanfare. All the employees had seemed confused...unsettled at the news their leader stepped down so casually.

Finally, Frank nodded. “You're a smart man.”

“Not always. It's easier to see what someone else needs to do than to apply the same logic in one's own life. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I'll make a ton more. It's the human condition. We can't control the world around us, and at times, we can't control our own responses. I do a lot of backpedaling. In fact, I need to do some with your daughter myself.”

Frank searched Graham's face for an answer to his admission, but Graham would give the man nothing more than the suggestion he'd also wronged Tess. Frank had matters to settle with Tess, and Graham had ones of his own. Both men had handled Tess badly.

Rising, Frank set his hands on his hips and squared himself like a puffer fish ready to fight. “I'll handle my life. You handle this company. I trust the man you are, Graham. Don't make me regret it.”

Graham nodded, hoping like hell he could do all Frank needed him to do. It would start with procuring the contract with the Krewe of Pan. Time to schmooze and dazzle. Time to show the world he'd left behind he wasn't a one-trick pony. Applying his vast knowledge of materials and construction, Graham knew he could revolutionize Frank Ullo Float Builders. Graham was back doing what he'd loved, doing what he'd started before the wheels had fallen off at Upstart, before he and Monique became more enemies than lovers. The task before him was large, but not impossible. He needed time to win over his new employees. He needed time to heal Tess.

Problem was, time wasn't exactly something he could control any more than Frank could.

* * *

A
LMOST
TWO
WEEKS
after signing a contract at Upstart, Tess had the first twinge of doubt. Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? She'd felt close to vomiting when she'd signed the Upstart contract and followed Monique to her new cubicle. Making the decision about joining arms with the competition hadn't been easy, but the more Tess lay in bed, beneath the sheets she and Graham had tangled themselves in, thinking about her father and how he'd created a path for her that she'd followed like a stupid cow, never looking to the left or right, only ahead to what she thought her destiny, the more pissed she'd grown...at her father and herself. She'd never allowed herself to consider any other world but her father's, and he'd never demanded much from her. To say Tess had been stretched and put through the paces was such an underwhelming statement it was almost a lie.

Going to work would piss off her father—and Graham—and that thought pleased Tess. Neither had valued her.

Of course, Gigi had been smart, insisting on a provisional three-month period to protect both Monique and Tess in case the job didn't work out, but Tess was thrilled by the blank slate spread before her. Here was a chance to make her mark in a whole different way.

The first few weeks hadn't been easy. Outside of avoiding her family like the plague, Tess had spent much of the time navigating the torrents of Monique's complex ego. Monique demanded she have the final say in each design and had changed a few of Tess's visions. Tess had bitten her tongue over a few, choosing to bend rather than break.

But the biggest challenge came when she faced Cecily Webb, the head of design for Upstart. The fifty-year-old artist, who'd been with Monique since Graham had left the business, resented Tess and obviously wasn't going to play fair, if her cold treatment was any evidence. Not to mention, the woman seemed to have hoodwinked the staff by giving counter directives on several float designs, making Tess look wishy-washy. Monique seemed to look on with amused tolerance, as if she thought it best for Tess to handle Cecily herself.

At Ullo Tess had had final say in design work...even when it came to her father. And she'd never had to deal with fellow employees who didn't love her.

“Hey, new girl.” One of the papier-mâché guys who worked on a sculpture of a pig flying motioned her over.

“Yeah?” Tess asked, walking over to the man wearing overalls and a fedora—artists were wonderfully weird.

“You told Halle to make this part larger, but I think it distorts the face.”

Tess studied the sculpture critically. “I think the larger body will have more punch. The face will be forward but this prop is on the back of the float, so the effect is in the wings and body. Let's do it that way.”

The man frowned and studied the shape in front of him for a few seconds. “Cecily trusts my judgment.”

“I trust the design. Nothing to do with you, Ben.”

“Whatever you want.”

Tess closed her eyes and sucked in a short breath. “I'm open to suggestions for the poster board props along the sides. What do you think?”

“Bacon?”

Okay, so Ben was a master of sarcasm. “Hmm...actually I like that idea. Let's go with bacon.”

“Seriously?” He made a face, but after a few seconds he laughed. “It
would
be ironic.”

“And I love ironic. Let me check with the captain before we go to too much trouble, but I think the effect will be almost iconic. Good call.”

Ben smiled turning back to the large foam pigs torn down to basic concept.

Score one for the new girl.

She strolled over to where Upstart's head sculptor showed Monique the start of the huge image of the governor that would be affixed to the float for the Krewe D'Tat's royalty float. Never easy to win the trust of a group of artists. By definition, artists had their own ideas about what worked, and at a Mardi Gras float company they were often free to interpret many props in their own way, but Tess wanted this lead float for the satirical krewe to be spot on. She'd promised Mark Curtis it would have the proper “wow” factor the acerbic krewe demanded.

“Let's build the nose bigger,” Monique said studying the work-in-progress. “It needs over-emphasis to give the right effect.”

“I agree,” Tess said with a nod, sweeping her hand over the entire sculpture. “Makes it more comical...like the guy on
Mad
Magazine.”

Monique tossed her a smile. “Exactly.”

Score two for the new girl.

Yesterday Monique had asked Tess to attend a meeting with the Krewe of Cleopatra and they had contracted five of the company's thirty rental floats. Tess had worked on some designs for the company that would meet their theme of “Take it to the Dance Floor” but also be versatile for several other krewes that would be looking to rent. As of yesterday, Monique hadn't altered the sketches.

Maybe Monique would trust Tess's visions soon...rather than merely tugging her along for liquid lunches with krewe fat cats.

“Mommy!” the shriek came from their left.

Graham's daughter. Tess had seen her once from afar and hadn't engaged her yet, hoping she could forget every aspect about the man.

Tess watched as a rounded little body collided with Monique, causing her to stumble in the too-high-for-the-warehouse stilettos.

“Emily,” Monique admonished, trying to gain her footing. Louie, the head sculptor who'd been passing by, pressed a hand against the woman's back and kept her from falling.

“A spider!” the child cried, burying her head against her mother's thighs.

“A spider?” Monique asked, prying the little girl off her. “All this over a little spider? Emily, Momma is working, honey.”