She laughed, leaned in, and hugged him tight.
chapter twenty-three
The next day, Morgan met with the Rosenthals in the conference room at Pierce Brothers. The chilly distance in the air set the tone. She didn’t blame them. Morgan had sold them on herself and failed. Now it was time to make things right.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” she said in greeting. Back to polished perfection in her power suit and heels, she handed them a folder that contained the proposal. “My job is to make sure you love your home, and I failed. I’m requesting you give me a short extension to fix it.”
Slate narrowed his gaze. Those movie-star eyes and that masculine intensity were made to intimidate, persuade, or demolish. Morgan refused to cower beneath him. “Why should we trust you?” he challenged. “We can find ourselves in a bigger hole, and I refuse to give you any extra funds. Shooting schedule begins within the month.”
Petra remained silent.
Cal squirmed beside her. She’d already been clear she didn’t need him to defend her. Morgan dealt with celebrity clients on a consistent basis and prepared herself for some stinging comments. Cal was there to back her up and answer any questions. She loved him even more when she saw how he struggled not to jump and defend her honor. “I understand,” Morgan said. “I take full responsibility, and I’m requesting ten days to make the necessary adjustments. Our original meetings had been clear, and I didn’t listen when you informed me you had made adjustments to your vision of the house. When you mentioned minimalist, and specific colors, I assumed you didn’t want me to stray from our course and tried to bring the theme in on a limited basis. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Petra tapped a bloodred nail against the folder, considering.
“These are my proposed changes. There will be no further cost to you. The structure and outside will remain the same. We’re looking at redoing the kitchen, expanding the film room, and changing the decor to suit your tastes with a more modern spin. I’ve included some photos of designs I think you’d like, and already have some specific pieces lined up for you if you approve.”
She waited in silence while they glanced at the new contract. Petra nibbled on her lower lip, and Slate kept a bold silence as the minutes ticked by.
“What if in ten days we’re still not satisfied?” Slate demanded.
“I won’t let that happen again,” Morgan said simply. “I know how to fix it, and I can.”
Petra stared at her. “Is it even possible to do this within the time period?” she asked.
Cal spoke up. “We have the building and design team on standby. It is possible, and I promise you we will meet deadline.”
Morgan locked gazes with Petra. Slowly the woman nodded. “Yes, I like these changes. Since we’re in town, I’ll be able to work with you. I’ll go through your pictures and tell you what I think.”
Slate turned to his wife. “Are you sure?”
Petra shrugged. “The Plaza is quite satisfactory, and I can see a few Broadway plays this week. We can manage ten more days. I think we should give Morgan another chance.”
Slate nodded. “Then I’ll go along with my wife. You have ten days.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said.
They shook hands, and she walked them out. When she returned to the conference room, Cal simmered behind the table.
“I hated the way they talked to you,” he grumbled. “He’d look more manly with a black eye.”
Morgan laughed. “I’m sure you’ve dealt with your own demanding clients. He has a right to be pissed. He’s spent millions on me, and I didn’t deliver.”
“His opinion. Not mine.”
“I know.” She crossed the room and leaned in for a hug. The overwhelming demands of the next ten days should have made her want to weep. Instead, a rush of adrenaline and challenge beat in her blood. This time she knew exactly what she had to do. “Are we ready to do this?”
“Yes. Tristan and Dalton are already at the house. Sydney’s making calls to suppliers, and Brady’s already restructuring the measurements for the film room. I booked my team for overtime, and we’ll work through the night if we have to.”
She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Charming.”
“Welcome, princess. Now let’s get to work.”
Eleven days later, Morgan sat in the kitchen surrounded by boys, munching on pizza. “I’m going to sleep for a week,” she groaned, taking a moment to shove a piece of crust in her mouth.
Cal grabbed two Heinekens from the refrigerator and slid them across the marble countertop. “It was close, but we did it. Petra loved the new design, which made Slate less of an asshole.”
Tristan laughed and poured himself a glass of wine. “The Chinese lanterns were a brilliant touch,” he said. “It brought so much color to the stark red and black.”
“Yeah, but taking out those cabinets felt like a crime,” Dalton muttered. “I like Morgan’s original vision so much better.”
“I caught you crying when you used your hammer,” Cal teased.
“Imagine Michelangelo destroying David. That’s how it felt.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “You are no Michelangelo, dude.”
“You were always jealous of me.”
Morgan laughed. “It hurt me, too, Dalton. Thinking of all that beautiful art and wood in the shed breaks my heart.”
“You’ll find another use for it,” Cal assured her.