A Heart to Trust, A.L. Brooks [speed reading book TXT] 📗

excited, actually. Today we’re getting a look at the venue for the Christmas charity gala. Derek wants us to be familiar with the layout, given we’re going to be the ones running around all over the place that night. So he’s arranged this first look today, then another one in November.” Jenny crammed the last bite of her toast into her mouth. She only had a couple minutes before she needed to leave.

“And where is it?”

Jenny swallowed. “The Hudson Room at the Excelsior.”

Carl’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow! Classy.”

“I know! I’m definitely going to feel out of place there.”

He frowned. “Why? Sure, you won’t be all dressed up like the paying guests, but you’re entitled to be there.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…” She wasn’t sure how to explain it. Olivia Sinclair was someone she barely knew, after all, but it was clear Olivia thought Jenny was way too casual with the way she looked.

“What?” Carl prompted.

“I feel like I might need a new look. Something…smarter.”

“For the Excelsior or in general?”

“In general.” She sighed. “They’re all so dressed up at C&V. Maxwell and I don’t fit in.”

“Have they told you to smarten up?”

“No, actually, no one’s mentioned it. At least, not out loud.”

“Huh?”

Jenny slid off her stool. She regretted bringing the subject up when she didn’t have time to get into it. Especially when she was sure Carl would have a lot to say about it. “I need to go. Don’t want to be late.”

“Wait.” Carl grabbed her forearm. “What’s going on?” He had that look about him, the one that said he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She blew out a breath and folded her arms. That look always got to her, and she knew she had to tell him, the meeting be damned. “That Olivia woman. She always looks down at me. Like I’m not good enough.”

Carl shook his head as his grip on her arm tightened. “Unless the company has a specific dress code you aren’t compliant with, she can go fuck herself with her snooty opinions, okay?”

Jenny burst out laughing. “I’ll be sure to tell her that.”

Carl nodded sagely. “You do that.”

Olivia, of course, looked immaculate when Jenny met up with her, Chrissy, and Maxwell outside the Excelsior at ten that morning.

Jenny ground her teeth as she took in the gorgeous, olive-green jacket with the off-white shirt. She nearly choked as her gaze traveled downwards and observed, for the first time, Olivia Sinclair’s legs. She hadn’t seen Olivia in a skirt before, and oh my God, she should wear one every day with legs like those. Maybe not if this is what will happen to my heart rate.

Jenny wrenched her gaze away from the sight of those shapely calves leading to slender ankles and small feet that sported three-inch pumps in brown leather. Jenny had always, always had a thing for heels.

Okay, stop. No ogling the ice woman. The married ice woman.

She lifted her gaze and met Olivia’s questioning eyes. Jenny looked away again. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush! Her face—goddammit—didn’t listen; her skin blazed with heat.

“Good morning,” Derek said from behind her.

Jenny spun so fast she nearly toppled over. She’d have taken it, anything to avoid having to explain to Olivia why she had stared at the woman’s legs and blushed about it.

“Hi, Derek!” Chrissy moved to stand closer to him.

Derek looked down at her—he was perhaps five inches taller—and gave her an enigmatic smile.

Standing next to Derek were two people Jenny didn’t recognize.

Derek pulled his gaze away from Chrissy. “This is Renee, from our events team, and Vance from legal. Guys, these are the production assistants.”

He didn’t bother giving Jenny’s and her colleagues’ names.

It had happened before with many other managers, but it annoyed the crap out of Jenny that her own manager would do it. Adrienne would never have done that. Jenny played nice and shook hands.

Vance barely looked at her, or any of them, but Renee seemed to make a special point of making eye contact with them all.

Derek glanced at his watch, then ushered everyone to follow him into the old but hugely impressive hotel.

They moved through beautiful, wooden revolving doors into a marble-floored lobby where they were met by a young woman who introduced herself as Marisa.

After Derek strode off toward the hotel’s corporate offices with Vance and Renee, clearly knowing exactly where he needed to be, Marisa turned to Jenny, Olivia, Chrissy, and Maxwell. Marisa was Latina, perhaps five or six years older than Jenny, with straight, dark-brown hair and big, expressive brown eyes. Her smile was warm and genuine, and Jenny let out a quiet sigh of relief. She’d had more than enough of jerks this morning already.

“Okay, follow me,” Marisa said.

“Isn’t this something?” Chrissy clutched at Jenny’s arm. “I’ve never been anywhere so fancy in my life!”

“I know!” Jenny gazed around as they walked through the ground floor of the hotel. “I’m not going to touch anything. I’d only break it.”

Chrissy laughed.

The Hudson Room was every bit as impressive as Jenny had imagined. She stood in the center of the cavernous space and whistled softly. She knew it was nearly twenty thousand square feet in size and could seat almost two thousand people for a full dinner. Above her head, a stunning modern light installation filled a huge portion of the ceiling. It currently displayed a blue sky dotted with white, puffy clouds.

“It contains three hundred and sixteen LED ceiling tiles connected to an AV system able to broadcast images that coordinate with whatever event is being held,” Maxwell said matter-of-factly.

Jenny stared at him, then noticed everyone else in the room doing the same.

“I… That’s true.” Marisa gaped at him. “How did you know that?”

“Research.” Maxwell shrugged and wandered away.

Marisa caught Jenny’s eye. “How…?”

“Maxwell just knows stuff.” Jenny offered a wry smile.

Marisa watched Maxwell walk a circuit of the huge room, admiration written all over her face. “And, yes, he’s right. The ceiling installation can display whatever you want. I asked the tech manager to