The Invitation by Vi Keeland

CHAPTER 10

Stella

What a difference a week can make.

Instead of sitting in the lobby of Rothschild Investments, waiting for a chance to see the king of the castle, I was introduced around the office as “our newest Rothschild partner.” The 180-degree turnaround still made my head spin, but I wasn’t about to waste any more time dwelling on it. I had a product to launch in just a few months.

Olivia had called me the morning after I received the offer package. She was still in California taking care of her father-in-law, but said she wanted to check in to make sure I was happy with the terms of the deal. I gently broached the subject of the decline letter I’d received, and she’d apologized, saying it was a mix-up. Yet for some reason, I didn’t think that was the truth. My gut told me there was more to it than just the wrong form letter being sent. But she was excited to move forward, so I decided to follow her lead and focus on what was to come, not look backward.

“Stella, this is Marta. She’s the accounting manager,” Olivia said. “FYI, Marta drinks her coffee black and prefers the Kenya blend from the little shop down the block, rather than Starbucks. Trust me, there will come a time when you’ll need to come to her with coffee in hand and your tail between your legs because you’re about to beg to get something approved that’s over budget.”

Marta laughed and extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Stella. And trust me, if your product is half as amazing as Olivia says, you wouldn’t have to beg.” She winked. “Just bring perfume.”

I smiled, but to be safe, I also jotted down Marta’s coffee preference as Olivia and I moved on to the next department.

After Fisher had had someone from his office review all the legal documents for me, I’d signed on the dotted line, and a couple of days ago Olivia and I had met for lunch to discuss basic logistics. Her role was head of marketing, but Rothschild Investments would also provide an array of assistance in everything from web development to accounting as part of their newly acquired stake in my company. All of it would save me a ton of money I didn’t have.

But the first step had been deciding where my new corporate office would be. Olivia said many partners chose to set up an office in the Rothschild Investments suite since they utilized so many of the staff and services there. Considering my previous corporate office had been the couch in my living room, surrounded by wall-to-wall boxes, I figured it might look more professional to meet with people here—at least until I could afford something of my own.

At the end of the introductory tour, Olivia brought me to an empty office and handed me a key. “This is your new home. The ladies’ room is at the end of the hall. I had my assistant set you up with basic supplies, but let her know what else you might need. I have an eleven o’clock meeting I have to run to. Maybe we can have a late lunch at around one thirty?”

I nodded. “That would be great.”

After Olivia disappeared, I took a seat behind my big, modern desk and breathed it all in. Not only had Signature Scent gotten more funding than it needed to launch, it got staffing, systems, and a fancy office address downtown that I could only have dreamed about otherwise. It felt surreal. Each person I’d met today seemed genuinely happy about our new partnership and excited to get to work. Everything was almost too good to be true. Which reminded me, there was at least one person here who was likely not over the moon about my presence.

When I’d passed Hudson’s office during my tour, his door had been closed. But I knew he was either inside or had recently left, because I’d smelled his cologne. He and I were long overdue for a discussion, so after I went to the ladies’ room, I took a detour down the hall that led to his office. This time the door was open. My pulse quickened as I approached. He stood with his back to the door, reaching for something on a shelf, when I knocked.

“Just leave it on my desk,” he said without turning around.

I assumed he had been expecting someone else. “Hi, Hudson. It’s Stella. I was hoping we could talk for a moment.”

He turned and looked at me. God, had his eyes gotten more intensely blue since the last time I’d seen him? I immediately began twisting the ring I wore on my pointer finger, something I did when I was nervous. But I caught myself and stopped. I couldn’t let Hudson intimidate me.

So even though my insides felt queasy, I jutted out my chin and stepped inside the doorway. “It won’t take long.”

Hudson folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the credenza, rather than taking his seat at his desk. “By all means, come on in. You’ve already interrupted me.”

Clearly he was being sarcastic, but I took the opportunity anyway. With a deep breath, I closed his office door behind me. Hudson remained quiet, but his eyes watched my every step as I walked to his equally intimidating, oversized desk.

“Do you mind if I have a seat?”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

I parked myself in one of the two guest chairs and waited for him to join me. But he never budged. “Aren’t you going to sit?”

His eyes glinted. “Nope. I’m fine standing.”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, but the smell of Hudson’s cologne wafted through the air. Did he have to smell so damn good? I found it very distracting. When I caught myself once again reaching for my ring to twist, I grabbed the arms of the chair to occupy my hands.

“Olivia said the decline letter I received was sent in error. Is that true?”

Hudson’s eyes dropped to my hands white-knuckling the chair before meeting mine. “Does it matter? You’re here.”

“It matters to me. I’ve worked on my business for five years and put my heart and soul into it. Rothschild Investments is now a part owner, and I would prefer to clear the air of whatever issues are standing in the way so things can go as smoothly as possible.”

Hudson rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb while he seemed to consider my words. Eventually, he said, “No.”

My forehead wrinkled. “No what? You don’t want to clear the air?”

“You asked if the first letter was sent in error. It wasn’t.”

That’s what I’d suspected, yet it still hurt to hear. “So what made you change your mind?”

“My sister. She’s a pain in my ass when she sinks her teeth in.”

That made me smile. I really adored Olivia. “Did you not want to be in business with me because of my product or because of me?”

Hudson searched my face before answering. “Because of you.”

I frowned, but appreciated his candor. As long as he was being real, I figured I’d keep going. “The date on the offer letter was the day before the first day I sat in the lobby waiting to see you. Yet you left me sitting there for two full days. Why?”

The corner of his lip gave the slightest twitch. “You asked for two minutes. I was busy.”

“But you could’ve just told the receptionist to let me know you’d changed your mind, and an offer was in the mail.”

This time, he couldn’t contain the smirk. “Yes, I could’ve.”

I squinted at him, which made him chuckle. “If that’s your intimidating face, you might want to work on that.”

His smile was dangerous. It made me feel a little breathless. Yet I straightened my back in my chair. “Are we going to have a problem working together? Olivia said you’re pretty involved with all the start-ups.”

Hudson again considered me. “Not if you’re a hard worker.”

“I am.”

“I guess we’ll see about that.”

The intercom on Hudson’s desk buzzed before the receptionist’s voice came over the speaker. “Mr. Rothschild?”

His eyes never left mine as he responded. “Yes?”

“Your eleven-thirty appointment has arrived.”

“Tell Dan I’ll be with him shortly.”

“Will do.”

She buzzed off, and Hudson tilted his head. “Was there anything else?”

“No, I guess that’s it.”

As I stood and turned to walk out, he spoke again. “Actually, I have one more thing.”

“Okay…”

He folded his arms across his chest. “As Olivia mentioned, I’m pretty involved with the launches of the new businesses we invest in. So you should probably give Helena your real cell phone number on your way out—just in case I need to reach you.”

“What do you mean my real number? I gave it to you the day I came to pick up my phone.”

His mouth formed a grim line. “The number you gave me was for Vinny’s Pizza.”

“What? No, it wasn’t.”

“It was. I called.”

“You must’ve written it down wrong. I did not give you the wrong number.”

“You typed it into my phone.”

I wracked my brain, trying to remember that afternoon. Hadn’t he written down my number? Then it hit me—he’d asked for my number and immediately after, his assistant had buzzed into the office. While they spoke, he’d reached into his pocket and handed me his cell. Oh my God.

“Can I see your phone?” I asked.

Hudson was quiet a minute. Eventually he reached down to his desk and picked up his cell. I felt him watch me as I typed my name into his contacts and read the number I’d entered. My eyes went wide. The last digit of my number was a nine, yet I’d typed a six—the digit above the nine on the keypad.

I looked up at him. “I typed in the wrong number.”

His face was perfectly impassive. “I’m aware.”

“But I didn’t mean to.”

He said nothing.

My brain seemed to be in slow motion as I processed what this meant. “So…the reason you didn’t call me was because you thought I had intentionally given you the wrong number? But your sister called me. She was able to find my business number.”

“I’m not in the habit of stalking women who give me a wrong number when I ask them out.”

“I would never do that.”

We stared at each other. It was like the missing puzzle pieces had finally clicked into place. “And that’s why you enjoyed leaving me to sit out in the waiting room for two days. You thought I’d blown you off, and you were blowing me off in return.” I shook my head. “But I still don’t understand. What made you change your mind about investing?”

Hudson did that scratching-his-chin thing he often seemed to do. “My sister’s very passionate about your business. She’s had a rough time at work since our father died. When I stripped everything else away, your business is one I would’ve been interested in under different circumstances. I figured it wasn’t fair to hold the fact that you blew me off against you and disappoint Olivia.”

“But I didn’t blow you off. I was disappointed when you didn’t call.”

Hudson looked down at my feet. I got the feeling he was as uncertain about what to do with this new information as I was. Again the phone on his desk buzzed.

“Yes, Helena?” he said.

“You have Esme on line one.”

He sighed. “I’ll take it. Just tell her I’ll be one minute, please.”

“Okay. And I’ll grab Dan some coffee and put him in the conference room. I’ll let him know you’ll be a few more minutes.”

“Thank you, Helena.”

Hudson finally lifted his gaze, but he did so by working his way slowly up from my toes. By the time our eyes met, my body was tingling all over. The devilish hint of a smirk on his face didn’t make things any better. “So you were saying…you were disappointed I didn’t call?”

I swallowed, feeling a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. “Ummm…”

Hudson’s ghost of a smirk turned to a full-blown grin. “Esme is my grandmother, so I have to take this call. To be continued?”

I nodded slowly. “Umm…yeah…sure.”

I turned and headed for the door. But before I could open it, Hudson’s voice stopped me. “Stella?”

“Yes?”

“I gave the perfume you made for me to my grandmother. She’d like more.”

I smiled. “No problem.”

***

Later that night, the cleaning crew knocked on my office door to ask if they could come in and empty my garbage can.

“Oh. Of course.” I wouldn’t have guessed it was time for them already, but I’d gotten engrossed in typing up my vendor list and making notes on which products I bought from who and the terms. It was definitely going to be a task to move all of the knowledge from where I currently kept it—in my head—to the different systems Rothschild Investments offered. But in the end, I knew it would be for the best. I picked up my cell and was shocked to find it was already 6:30. I’d looked at the time after Olivia said goodnight, and it had been a little before five o’clock. That felt like only ten minutes ago.

A smiling older woman dumped the contents of my wastepaper basket into a bigger garbage can in the hall and came back in carrying a vacuum. “Would you mind? It will take less than five minutes.”

“Oh, not at all. I need to stretch my legs and use the ladies’ room anyway.” I shut my laptop and made my way down to the bathroom. As I approached, I found Hudson leaning against the wall right next to the door, looking down at his cell phone.

“Waiting to jump out and scare someone when they exit the ladies’ room?” I teased.

He frowned and pointed to the door. “Are you going in there?”

“I was about to.” My brows drew together. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

He pushed off the wall and dragged a hand through his hair. “My daughter’s in there—Charlie. She gets lost in a bathroom, says she likes the clue sticks.”

“Clue sticks?”

“Acoustics. I correct her, but she says it sounds better her way.”

I chuckled. “Do you want me to hurry her along?”

He looked at his watch. “I have an important call with an investor overseas at six thirty.”

“Go. I’ll make sure she’s okay and walk her back to your office.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. No problem.”

Hudson still looked hesitant.

I rolled my eyes. “I crashed a wedding once, but I promise I won’t lose her.”

He blew out a deep breath. “Okay, thanks.”

Walking into the bathroom, I was absolutely curious. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but one thing quickly became apparent—why she was concerned about the clue sticks. The sweetest little voice was singing… Was that “Jolene”? The old Dolly Parton song? Why yes, yes, it was. And little Charlie seemed to know all the words.

I noticed her little legs swinging underneath the first bathroom stall. I stood quietly, listening with the biggest smile on my face. She really could sing. Her voice was tiny, but by the size of her legs, I suspected it fit the body. Yet she sang on key and put in a vibrato that didn’t usually come out of a little girl.

When the song ended, I didn’t want to be standing there staring and scare her, so I gently knocked on the stall door.

“Charlie?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. My name is Stella. Your dad asked me to walk you back to his office when you’re done in here. I’m just going to go to the bathroom. But don’t leave without me.”

“Okay.”

I went into the stall beside hers and started to relieve myself.

Mid-pee, Charlie said, “Stella?”

“Yes?”

“Do you like Dolly?”

I stifled my laugh. “I do.”

“Do you have a favorite song?”

“Hmmm. I do, actually. I don’t know if it’s a very popular one, but my grandmother lived in Tennessee and the song ‘My Tennessee Mountain Home’ always reminded me of her. So I’d have to say that’s probably my favorite.”

“I don’t know that one. But my dad’s is ‘It’s All Wrong, But It’s All Right’. He won’t let me sing that one, because he says the words are too old for me. But I memorized them anyway. You want to hear it?”

I most certainly did—even more so now that she’d told me her father said she couldn’t sing it. But I stopped myself from telling her to belt it out. The last thing I needed was Hudson thinking I’d corrupted his kid.

“Hmmm... As much as I’d love to hear it, we should probably mind your dad.”

The sound of the toilet flushing was her response, so I hurried and finished up so she couldn’t run out of the bathroom without me.

Charlie was at the sinks washing her hands when I emerged from the stall. She was absolutely freaking adorable with sandy-blond curly hair that looked like it wasn’t easy to tame, a button nose, and big brown eyes. She wore purple from head to toe, including tights, sneakers, skirt, and T-shirt. Something told me Charlie picked out her own clothes.

“Are you Stella?” she asked.

Again, I had to rein in my laugh. We were the only two in the bathroom. “I am. And you must be Charlie.”

She nodded and watched me behind her in the mirror. “You’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you. That’s very sweet. You’re beautiful yourself.”

She smiled.

I walked over to the sink next to her to wash up. “Do you take singing lessons, Charlie? Your voice is really amazing.”

She nodded. “I go on Saturday mornings at nine thirty. My dad picks me up to take me because my mom needs her beauty sleep.”

I smiled. This kid was hysterical and had no clue. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“I also take karate. Mom wanted me to take ballet, but I didn’t want to. Dad took me to sign up for karate lessons without telling her, and she wasn’t very happy.”

I laughed. “I bet.”

“Do you work with my daddy?”

“I do, actually.”

“Do you want to come to dinner with us? We’re taking the subway.”

“Oh, thank you, but I still have some work to do.”

She shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

I could not stop smiling at everything that came out of this little girl’s mouth. “Maybe.”

We both dried our hands, and then I walked her to her dad’s office. Hudson was still on the phone, so I asked her if she wanted to come see where I sat. When she nodded, I gestured to let Hudson know I was taking her down to my office.

Charlie plopped herself on a guest chair, with her feet dangling and swinging. “You don’t have any pictures?”

“That’s because today is my first day. I haven’t had a chance to decorate yet.”

She looked around. “You should paint your office purple.”

I laughed. “Not sure that would go over so well with your father.”

“He let me paint my room purple.” Charlie sniffed a few times. “Your office smells good.”

“Thank you. I’m actually a perfumist. I make perfumes.”

“You make perfumes?”

“Yup. It’s kind of a cool job, isn’t it?”

She nodded fast. “How do you do it?”

“Well, it’s a lot of science, actually. But what your dad and I are working on together is making a perfume based on how much people like a bunch of different smells. Would you like to try out some of my samples?”

“Yes!”

I’d brought a few sample kits with me today, so I grabbed one from my desk drawer and sat next to her on a guest chair. Opening the box, I took out one of the smelling jars and offered it to her. It was calone, which told me if a person had a penchant for a sea-breeze-type smell.

“What does this smell remind you of?”

Her eyes lit up. “Mmm…chocolate-banana ice cream.”

My brows knitted, and I lifted the jar to smell it myself, even though I’d smelled the ocean the second I twisted off the cap. “That smells like ice cream to you?”

“No. But Dad took me to the beach last week, and afterward we got ice cream on the boardwalk. I got a banana split because that’s my favorite. That smells like the beach, but now the beach just makes me think of that yummy ice cream.”

I had asked her what the scent reminded her of and not what it smelled like. So her answer was right. I picked up the banana that had been sitting on my desk all day. “You’re a banana fan, too, huh? You want to share this one?”

“No, thank you.” She swung her legs. “My dad writes on my bananas when he packs my lunch. Sometimes oranges and tangerines, too. But never apples because those you don’t peel the skin off of.”

“He writes on your fruit?”

She nodded.

“What does he write?”

“Silly stuff. Like ‘Orange you glad it’s Friday?’ Sometimes he writes a joke. On Halloween he wrote ‘What is a ghost’s favorite fruit? A boo-nana.’ Get it?”

I found that very interesting. I wouldn’t have envisioned Hudson doing something goofy like that.

“Can I smell some more?” Charlie asked.

“Of course.”

I opened another jar. This one smelled like sandalwood—oil from the Indian sandal tree.

She scrunched up her little nose. “That smells like a bellyache.”

I had no idea what that meant. I brought it to my nose to try to figure it out. “Really? Does it make your belly hurt just by smelling it?”

She giggled. “No. Sour ice cream does. That smells like the man at the ice cream store around the corner from my dad. We don’t go there anymore because the ice cream might have been bad.”

Ohhh, well, that made more sense. Sandalwood was in a lot of popular men’s colognes. Charlie had a knack for this. She was also apparently really into ice cream. “You know…” I said. “That’s the second answer you’ve mentioned with ice cream. I’m sensing a pattern.”

A deep voice from behind me chimed in, “Figured that out already, huh?”

I turned to find Hudson leaning against the doorframe to my office. It looked like he might have been eavesdropping for a while.

“Charlie here has a great sense of smell.”

Hudson nodded. “She also hears things from a mile away, especially the freezer door. If I so much as crack it open, she comes running, thinking ice cream might be involved.”

Charlie scrunched up her nose again. “He likes strawberry ice cream.”

“I take it you don’t?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s gross. All lumpy.”

“I’ll have to side with your dad on this one. Strawberry is one of my favorites.”

Hudson smiled, and I realized it might’ve been the first genuine smile I’d seen on his handsome face since the night of the wedding.

“You ready to go, Charlie?” He looked over at me. “We’re going to dinner.”

“I know. You’re taking the subway.”

Hudson’s lip twitched. “The subway, Dolly Parton, and ice cream. She’s not hard to please…yet.”

“And notes written on fruit and the color purple.” I motioned to my office. “Charlie suggested I paint my office purple. I told her I’d think about it.”

Hudson smiled. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Charlie surprised me by jumping out of her chair to give me a hug. “Thank you for showing me your smelly things.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Enjoy your dinner.”

She skipped across my office and grabbed her father’s hand. “Let’s go, Dad.”

He shook his head like her being the boss of him was a bother, but I could tell she was probably the only person in the world he enjoyed being bossed by.

Nodding at me, he said, “Don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t.”

After they disappeared, I could hear Charlie talking all the way down the hall.

“Stella’s going to come to dinner with us next time,” she said.

“Charlie, what did I tell you about inviting people you just met to things?”

“Doesn’t she smell good?”

There was a pause, and I thought maybe they’d gone so far that I couldn’t hear them anymore. But then Hudson grumbled, “Yes, Stella smells good.”

“And she’s pretty, too, right?”

Again there was a long pause. I moved closer to my door so I could be sure to hear the answer.

“Yes, she’s pretty, but that’s not how you decide who to invite to dinner, Charlie. We work together.”

“But last month when Mommy dropped me off early at your house on Saturday morning there was a woman there, and she was pretty and smelled good. You’d said she was someone you had business with, and she’d come back in the morning because she’d forgotten her umbrella. I asked if she could come to lunch with us, and you said another time. But you never brought her.”

Oh boy. I put my hand over my mouth. That Charlie was a whip, and I was curious how Hudson was going to talk his way out of this one. Unfortunately, instead of hearing his answer, I heard the lobby door open and close, and that was the end of the show.

I sighed and walked back to my desk—where it quickly became apparent that I could no longer concentrate. Today had been a whirlwind. Being introduced to so many people here at Rothschild Investments, a half dozen different meetings, new systems for accounting, inventory, orders, and an all-new, high-speed website interface. It was pretty overwhelming. But none of it was half as exciting as three little words Hudson had said earlier today.

“To be continued…”