“Fuck.” I watch the numbers on the elevator’s digital display climb up, and I can’t stop myself from glancing at my wristwatch. Ten past nine, which means that I’m already late.

When the doors finally slide back into their partitions, I rush out of the elevator. Clutching my purse tight, I head straight toward the closed double-doors at the end of the hallway. Right before I enter the room, I stop and take a deep breath.

Why the hell didn’t Ashley tell me what’s up?

Christ.

“...a recurring problem, I know, but it is what it is,” I hear one of the board members, most likely the vice president, say as I step inside. I try to be as silent as possible, but a few heads turn my way all the same.

Judging by the excitement on Ashley’s voice, I thought that the Clarendon Tower conference room would be completely packed, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Aside from me and the five remaining members of the board, I only count nine people. Sitting on the side, I see Ashley—who gives me a quick wink the moment she sees me walk in—and Taylor.

Are these two an item now? I can never tell.

“I’m sorry,” I say, looking straight at the board members as everyone falls silent. I take one of the seats at the back and rest the purse at my feet, glancing at the other members in attendance.

One of them I recognize immediately—Austin Randall.

Asshole galore and one of my direct competitors, he’s the owner of Oakmont, a company that has caused me so many freaking headaches that I instinctively reach for my purse to get an aspirin. Swear to God, if Oakmont wasn’t a thing, I’d have double the customers I have right now...and I’d easily triple my income.

More than just that though, it’s everything that Austin represents. He provides expensive mass market furniture that’s brash and in your face. He’s made a killing out of selling the man’s look. Heavy wooden furniture that overpowers the room.

Let’s not forget that he’s done it while completely selling out. He controls his costs at the expense of art and design.

There’s nothing boutique about Austin Randall.

Yeah, I know what you’re going to say: competition fosters excellence and all that bullshit. So let me put you at ease and say that I can most definitely handle competition. What I can’t handle are massive assholes that think they can swing their dick around and have the rest of the world at their feet.

Now, I’ve never had a conversation with Austin, but it’s not like I need to. His fame precedes him, after all. He is what some would call...an assholish manwhore of a dirtbag. Or, to put it plainly, the man can’t keep it in his pants.

Seems like the furnishing industry is packed with these assholes. Maybe I should start carrying my letter opener in my purse all the times. You just never know when you’re gonna need to open a letter.

Or rip up a guy’s ballsack.

“As I was saying,” the man leading the meeting continues, taking his eyes off me. “We’re aware that we’ve had some problems with this board’s presidents in the past. As such, and as you well know, we don’t have a president currently. But that doesn’t mean that this board is powerless.” He makes a quick pause, and then gives Taylor a quick nod. “The past three presidents have vacated their apartments and, due to the legal situation they’re in, ownership of those apartments has been returned to the board.”

“And the Clarendon Tower board and Draper Pierce have reached an agreement,” Taylor suddenly says, fastening his jacket as he stands up and walks up the dais where the board is sitting. Ashley’s massive crush never fails to make an impression, it seems. No wonder she’s crazy about the guy. Handsome, charismatic, and Draper Pierce’s omnipotent CEO, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors this town has ever seen.

Turning to his small audience, he flashes everyone a grin.

“The three vacant apartments will be converted into fifteen one-bedroom studios, and Draper Pierce will lease them all. And that’s exactly why you’ve all been gathered here tonight.”

He makes a sweeping motion at those listening to him and, for the first time since I got here, I really look at them. I see Willis from Fast Furnishing Solutions, Andrew from SolidWares, and four more bastards that have climbed to the top of the industry in this state.

All my main competitors, together in a room.

I should’ve brought seven letter openers.

“As you’ve probably already figured out, these bedroom studios will need to be decorated,” Taylor continues, adjusting his blood-red tie and appraising us. There’s probably nothing in the world this guy enjoys more than to see people ripping each other’s throats to get a deal. Not that I’m surprised. You don’t get to be CEO of the largest bank in the world if, at the very least, you don’t enjoy the chaos you leave in your wake.

“Yes, Willy?” Taylor points at the guy sitting right at the front, hand raised in the air like a good schoolboy.

“It’s Willis,” he starts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “So, our whole thing is bidding for the job?”

“Congratulations, Willy,” Taylor smiles. I can’t really tell if he mispronounced Willis’ name on purpose or if he just doesn’t give a fuck. “You got that right.”

“I know this is Clarendon Tower and all,” Willy Wonka continues, his whiny voice making me want to stuff my ears with cotton balls. “But this sounds like a regular contract. Why are we all here? Fast Furnishing Solutions would take care of it in no time.” He snaps his fingers for emphasis, but that just makes him look like even more of a dork.

Everyone in the industry knows that FFS should read as For Fuck’s Sake, as in “for fuck’s sake, why does my house look like a nursing home from the 80’s?”

Yeah, his reputation isn’t the best.

“You raise a valid point,” Taylor beams, and I can almost see dollar signs twinkling in his eyes. “Thing is, both the board and I agree that Clarendon Tower could use a facelift. The building has won numerous architectural awards and is the building of choice for the world’s elite. As it stands, it’s the most valuable building in New York, but we believe that there’s some room for...improvement.” He takes a deep breath, looking around the room and enjoying the look of anticipation on everyone’s face, and only then does he continue. “As such, whoever gets the contract will also handle the furnishing of the rest of the building. All of it.”

Holy fucking Christ.

If Taylor said what I think he just did, then we’re talking about a laundry list of common areas to furnish. My brain starts working faster than a cash register as I start to do the math. There are dozens of common areas in the building, all of them massive in size. Just think of it: and a single deal for a single area would probably mean dozens of millions of dollars.

In profit.

If we’re talking about a deal encompassing areas such as the bar, the lobby, the gym, the theater room, and God knows what else is in the building, then we’re talking about...holy shit.

For a long time, no one says a thing.

Which means that, just like me, everyone’s doing the math. Except I’m faster than the rest of them. Before I can stop myself, I jump up to my feet.

“Are you really willing to shell out $1.5 billion dollars in furnishings?”

“Close,” he smiles. “From our initial appraisal, we predict we’ll have to award at least $1.8 billion. But we still have to consider your proposals, so there’s some leeway there.”

No wonder Ashley was excited on the phone.

This is the deal of a lifetime.

Sure, I have an apartment at Clarendon Tower, and I own a multimillion-dollar company. But with a deal like this, I’d be part of the billionaire elite. Just imagine what I could with that much money. More than just beat my competitors inside the state, I’d be able to go toe-to-toe with the biggest players in the world.

Oh, I can already imagine all these Italian designers and Swedish executives digging a bunker as I show up on their doorsteps, ready to go thermonuclear on their asses.

Yup, I’m definitely getting ahead of myself. But now you know why I’ve called my company Domina—because I dominate everything.

“What’s the deadline for our proposals?” Willis charges again. In return, he gets one of Taylor’s smug grins.

“We don’t exactly have a deadline. Instead, we’re going to hold a competition,” he announces. For a fraction of a second, I almost expect him to drop some swords right on the middle of the conference room and tells us to fight to our deaths. “Or a series of competitions, to be more precise. It will cover the next three months and, depending on how you fare, you’ll receive points for your performance. The winner gets ten points, second place gets five points, and the rest...well, the rest get free coffee.”

So, there aren’t going to be any sword fights anytime soon, but this sounds to me like a fight to the death all the same. Whoever manages to secure this deal will top the industry in a heartbeat.

“Thank you very much, Mr. John. We couldn’t be happier about having Draper Pierce as our strategic ally. I’m sure the future will bring a great many rewards for both our organizations. As for you,” the vice president of the board turns his attention toward the businessman in attendance, an almost sadistic grin on his face. “Good luck. I think it doesn’t need to be said but—”

“Winner takes it all,” I mutter under my breath, completing his sentence as the words echo in my head, making my heart pump faster. “Winner takes it all.”