I got the Parker Condominium gig. Don’t ask me how or why—all three of the other presentations were far superior to mine—but I landed it, nonetheless. Mr. Lewg emailed personally to say that he was pleased with what I put together—um, did he have eyes?—and couldn’t wait to see the project come to fruition.

Rumors were flying around the office that he—Mr. Lewg—had recently broken up with his longtime girlfriend, Kelly something or other, and that we would be seeing him much more frequently in the office. According to the gossip mill, he wanted to become more involved in the structure and design of the firm’s newest acquisitions.

I wasn’t sure if the break-up rumors were true, but Mr. Lewg, or Bill, as he kept insisting I call him, was at the office way more often. He went so far as to treat the staff to a catered lunch on Friday which, if I’m being honest, was extremely thoughtful, not to mention delicious. Overall, the changes at LAMP were positive and rather enjoyable.

But tonight—the night of the Parker Condominium launch—I’m anything but carefree as my eyes squint at the clock on the far end of the wall: 6:57. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and the nervousness that I’ve been battling all afternoon rears its ugly head. Again. This project isn’t big by company standards, not by a long shot, but the fact that I was given the lead is a huge deal, despite my less-than-stellar pitch. And I don’t want to disappoint my bosses. This may be my only chance to shine, and I want to damn well sparkle.

I spent the past four and a half weeks planning every single detail—from the color of the accent pillows (light turquoise) to the shape and scent of each candle (oval and sandalwood) displayed in each bathroom, to the exact metal finish of the curtain tiebacks (brushed nickel).

Lauren, or Cruella de Vil, as I had taken to calling her because I’d seen her wear a real—I know—mink coat to a company event last month, had been explicitly clear that I was to “stick to the plan” that we (read: she) crafted. Ever since I landed this project, Lauren has been extra frosty to me, probably, I suspect, because Mr. Lewg actually seems to like my work, and it’s something that she can’t quite see value in.

Knuckles rap on the open door, and I jerk forward. “Knock, knock,” calls a female voice. “Am I the first one here?” A short, middle-aged woman approaches. She wears a jet-black pantsuit with sharp black heels. Her lavender blouse softens the formal look, but just a tad. I would describe her look as severe, and even though her voice seems friendly enough, she makes my anxiety triple.

I plaster a fake smile on my face to conceal my nerves. “Yes.” I extend my hand. “I’m Riley Jones. I’m with Lewg and Morgan Properties. Thank you for coming this evening.”

“Yes.” She pumps my hand once, a firm shake that I’m not quite expecting, as she cranes her head to see around where I stand. “Well, I had to see such a ‘hot property’ in an ‘upcoming neighborhood’. You’re the realtor?”

I shake my head, dismissing her question. “No, I’m the just stager.”

At that moment Lauren appears at my side and rests her hand on my elbow as she says, “Now, don’t be modest. Riley is the absolute best stager in the tristate area. We are so fortunate to have her with us at LAMP.”

At her warm words of praise, my eyes nearly pop out of my head, but she simply smiles and narrows her eyes in a way that says, “Just go with it.”

I nod and smile, and am about to respond when another prospective client walks in.

“Jackson Densee.” He shakes my hand, and I repeat the same introduction over again.

I lose track of names and faces. Everything and everyone seems to blur together, and I’ve never been so grateful to have Lauren around. She’s a pro, using everyone’s first and last names, slipping specific details about each unit into the conversation. If I’ve ever had any doubt, I now know why she’s not only the office manager, but the bestselling agent at our firm. I can see why she makes the big bucks.

During the last hour of the open house, Bill arrives and splits his time “showboating” some of the higher-end clients and mingling with the remaining guests. By the night’s end, there are at least two firms that are seriously interested in investing in the existing building and its future sister property planned to break ground next September.

Bill finds me outside on the patio deck, taking a few moments to catch my breath. “Great job in there.”

I smile. “Thanks. Lauren was the one who did most of the work.” Almost as though she heard her name, Lauren’s eyes find us outside and narrow in a scowl. I ignore her glare and say, “I’m just the stager.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Half the battle in this business is making investors think you have something they don’t, making them believe you have exactly what they need. Besides, I doubt anyone could do half as good a job as you did.” I shrug, but he continues. “Although, I must admit, it looks nothing like the original pitch.”

“Thank God.” The words push past my lips before I’ve had a chance to stop them. Bill’s eyes widen in surprise, but I continue, deciding to hold nothing back. “You know the original sketches were shit.” I raise my eyebrows in challenge, but he dips his head in agreement. I knew it. “Why then give me this project?” My hands splay wide. “Why take a chance on me? I mean, it turned out great, but I could have really…” I stop myself before I say fucked up.

“Fucked up?” Bill reads my mind and I gasp.

“Mr. Lewg.” I joke. “Language.”

He chuckles, hands in his pockets. “Everyone deserves a chance, Ms. Jones.”

But the way his eyes skim over me, the heaviness of his voice tells me there might be more to his reasoning than he admits.

I keep my voice light. “But somehow I don’t think that’s what this is.”

His eyes widen at my directness, but I’m done playing games. I don’t have time for games. Look how long I waited for Jesse, and we still crashed and burned. I’m left tired and broken.

“I like you, Jones.”

A smile curves my lips. I was right. “So, you only gave me this project because you wanted to sleep with me?”

He holds his hands up. “Whoa. I didn’t say that.”

“So, why then?”

“Because I think you’re talented.” I quirk my brow and he continues. “I think you have spunk, fresh ideas, and yes, I was hoping…” My eyes widen in anticipation. “To get to know you better.”

“Fair enough.” I nod. “Thanks for being honest.”

“So, you’ll have a drink with me?” His eyes hold mine.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I never said it was.” He winks. “What do you say?”

I take one last glance inside. Lauren catches my eyes, and in her penetrating stare I can read every thought: What the fuck are you doing, Riley? Stop flirting with Mr. Lewg. Do you know how lucky you are to get this break? I swear to God, you screw this up, your job at LAMP is done. Done.

Turning back to face Bill, I take a deep breath. “Sure.”