“I have one condition,” I said.
His brow arched.
“I think I could use my skills as a blogger to rejuvenate your brand’s image. For the last few years, Lorena has been focused solely on her designs, not the branding side of things. She’s not utilizing social media like other fashion brands. I mean Rachel Zoe and Diane Von Furstenberg have camera crews following them around 24/7 for reality TV. We need to get Lorena Lefray out there in the public eye.”
“And you think you can help with that?”
I straightened my back. “I have a pretty large following on YouTube and Twitter. I know I can do it.”
“Excuse me,” a sweet voice said from behind me. I twisted in my chair to see a woman about my age, standing with a padfolio clutched in her arms. She was pretty, angelic really.
“Are you almost done?” she asked, flitting her gaze between the two of us. “I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that the other interviews only lasted about five minutes and I have to run back across town for an appointment in fifteen—”
Julian waved his hand, silencing her and standing at the same time. He reached for his suit jacket and looked out toward the other few applicants who’d gathered in the room without my notice.
“I think we’re all done here.” He paused and glanced my way. “That is, if you’re ready to accept?”
I had two seconds to make a decision. Two seconds of staring into Julian Lefray’s fuck-me eyes and deciding if I wanted a job where I could stare at him all day, every day.
Easiest decision of my life.
I nodded and stood to shake his hand. “I accept.”
I tried to conceal my megawatt smile as his warm hand engulfed mine once again.
He nodded and glanced back to the small group of applicants. “Thank you all for coming today, but the position has been filled.”
I smiled.
Now if only he could fill something else…
And so the sexual fantasies begin. Lovely.
Chapter Seven
Julian
“I think they’re trying to poison me here.”
What?
I glanced over at Lorena to see if she was serious. My sister, the eccentric artist of the family, sat up in her bed and crossed her arms. She pointedly stared at the food in front of her. It looked decent enough to me, albeit a little bland.
“Relax, Lorena. You’re in the top rehab facility on the east coast, not with Nurse Ratchet.”
She sneered.
“Well it feels like I’m in the loony bin. Look at this stuff! It looks like lettuce with a bad perm!”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s kale, Lorena.”
She waved me off as if I wasn’t making any sense.
“I can’t fit into any of my old clothes either,” she said, redirecting her glare to the overflowing closet, grimacing at the piled garments she hadn’t cared to hang up after trying them on.
“That’s a good thing,” I assured her. “You were way too skinny before. A little bit of added weight means you’re getting healthy.”
For a long time my family never spoke of Lorena’s drug problem. The hints and warning signs were dust to be swept under the rug, along with the other skeletons that my mother believed should be kept locked away in the closet. Lorena would have probably sought help years earlier if only she could have spoken up about her problems.
“I brought you something,” I said, reaching for the brown bag behind my chair.
Her hazel eyes lit up and I knew I’d done the right thing by bringing her a gift.
She made grabby hands as I handed over the large bag. She ripped it open without hesitation and pulled out the large black frame I’d picked up on my way over.
There were three photos framed side by side. One photo was of the two of us when we were little, all big teeth and dirty faces. The second photo was of the two of us the year before at Christmas. The third was a photo of our father and us before he’d died. I’d purposely picked photos that didn’t include our mother.
“Aw, I love it!” she said, holding it out in front of her for a better view.
I took in the sight of her for a moment. She’d been in rehab less than a week and she already looked better than she had in years. Her cheeks were flushed with a healthy glow and she’d started to put a little meat on her bones.
I promised her I’d hang the frame on her wall before I left, knowing it would add some personality to her room. Each "guest" at The White Dunes had their own small room. It was the most expensive rehab facility on Long Island, but even her lavish room still looked like a sterile cell, and I knew that to Lorena, it felt like one as well. The walls were white. The linens were white. The desk, doors, and dresser, all white. The colorless aesthetic was not her style, and I intended on helping her decorate as much as I could.
“Now enough stalling, how’s my company?” she asked, dropping the frame on her lap and staring at me with expectant eyes.
“I’m in the process of cleaning house,” I declared, cutting through the bullshit. For the last year, she’d done everything in her power to run her company into the ground. If there was any hope for revitalization, it needed a major overhaul, beginning with the staff.
“Geoff? What about Gina?” she asked with hope in her eyes.
“Everyone will be replaced.”
I had zero remorse for the employees I’d already let go. There were only a handful of them, all under qualified, all enablers of Lorena’s drug addiction. Their expulsion from the company had been a long time coming and she knew it.