Page 20 of The Irresistible One
“Night, Daddy.”
SIX
SOPHIE
Only five minutes remained until the Westons exceeded the deadline I had set for them, and my brain felt like it was going to explode. It didn’t matter how hard I held my forehead while I sat at my desk, staring at my computer, the outline of the Gordon versus Weston case on my screen; nothing was stopping the churning inside my body.
Colson’s last name was part of every conversation I had with my partners at this firm. It was a name mentioned in many of the emails in my inbox. And what made the feeling even worse was that this morning, over breakfast, my daughter had begged me again to let her go to Ellie’s house this weekend.
Out of all the girls in Abbi’s gymnastics class, she had to be best friends with Ellie. Not that I didn’t adore her. She was a wonderful kid. Thoughtful. Patient. She was so good to my daughter when many of the girls in their class were harsh and inconsiderate, like Abby with aY.
But not Ellie.
Not that I wanted to give Colson a single compliment, but he had raised her right. Or maybe he couldn’t take the credit at all. Maybe it was his wife’s or girlfriend’s or ex’s influence that had produced such an amazing kid.
His personal life, I knew nothing about, but it made me question what he had been doing at Lush the night we met. A question that shouldn’t have even entered my mind. What he was doing there—whether it was a onetime thing or he was an active member—was none of my business.
I held my forehead even tighter.
Because, God, there was so much about him that I wanted to know?—
My thoughts got cut off when my office line rang, the caller ID showingThe Dalton Group.
Troy, Troy, Troy. Nothing like waiting until the last second.
I held the phone to my ear. “This is Sophie.”
“It’s Troy.”
“Hey.” I leaned back in my chair. “Two minutes until you were getting a scalding email from me.”
He laughed. “But I made it, didn’t I?”
“Barely.” I took a deep breath, already smelling victory. “What have the Westons decided?”
“I think you’re going to be shocked to hear this. Hell, I was. But they’re redoing the whole menu.”
My back went straight, the chair stilling. I blinked several times, waiting for him to say more. “They’re …what?”
“They’ve already redesigned about three-quarters of it. They’re asking for a three-week extension. The email that’s coming to you right now details what they’re going to do with the time they’ve requested. As in rolling out the menu to each location, printing updated menus, ordering the food that’s needed, and training each of the chefs on the new items. They’ve been in contact with their vendors, and they’veexplained to me that it’s more of a logistical problem at this point. Which means they’re at the mercy of their food distributors and printing company, along with the training required at each restaurant. But I assure you, they’re on it.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Three weeks?” My hand flattened against my desk, and I pushed all my weight into it. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re really telling me you won’t give them an extension?”
“Troy, they had a deadline. They haven’t met that deadline.”
“Your deadline was for the Westons to make a decision. Which they’ve done, just like you wanted them to. Now, we’re on to stage two.”
“There is no stage two.” My head shook. “There’s only stage one.”
“What are you implying?”
“If they want time, they’re going to have to pay for it.”
“What’s the rate?”
