I look down at the floor. Every time I hear my dad say his name it’s jarring. He has no idea that I had a one-night stand with West or that I was even in Las Vegas that weekend. He was in Paris with Diane for a two-week anniversary celebration when I jetted off to Sin City.
“He seemed receptive,” I answer with a sigh. “I’ll put together a more extensive description of the event and possible guest list and we can revisit it the next time we meet with him.”
He glances at his phone again when it chimes. “Don’t you mean the next time you meet him, sweetheart? That’s tomorrow night, right?
I arch both brows. “Tomorrow night?”
He spins his phone’s screen around so it’s facing me. I lean in and read the text message. Twice.
Jeremy Weston: Linny and I are having dinner tomorrow. I do my best work one-on-one, and Linny understands exactly what I want.
Jerk.
“I don’t have to tell you how impressed I am by the initiative you’re showing on this account.” My dad beams as he slips the phone back into his pocket. “You’re making me proud and your granddad would say the same if he were here.”
My granddad would be horrified if he knew why West was intent on arranging dinner for the two of us behind my back.
“You’ll fill me in on everything you discuss with Jeremy, won’t you?”
I stare at my dad. I can’t answer that truthfully so I edge around it. “I’ll put together a condensed version of our conversation about the launch party and have it on your desk first thing Friday morning.”
“Remember to order a glass of Rizon at the restaurant.” He winks. “Impressing the client is always the end game.”
I’d normally agree with him, but in this case, beating the client at his own game is a temptation I may not be able to resist.
“I’ve got this, dad,” I say with no conviction at all.
“I know you do.” He gives me a curt nod. “You always make me proud.”
Chapter 21
Linny
Jeremy Weston stood me up.
Dammit. He stood me up after I went to all the trouble of arranging a mini preview party of the vanilla vodka launch.
I called my contact in guest relations at the Bishop Hotel Tribeca and asked if I could rent the terrace for two hours tonight. She agreed without question, even offering the space for free. I was hoping she would after all the extra work I did for them during the launch of their new hotel on the Lower East Side earlier this year.
After I blasted out a text invitation to eight of my contacts in the food industry in Manhattan, I set up a private tasting bar for Rizon vanilla vodka.
The evening was complete with two servers, a decadent platter of caviar, and soft music.
It was an intimate prelude to the main event. That will take place in a few weeks, on the eve of the vodka’s official launch.
Everyone at the party was a potential new contact for Jeremy.
It was a foolproof idea since Jeremy had reached out to me via text late yesterday afternoon telling me that he wanted to meet for dinner at Axel Tribeca at seven p.m. tonight.
The restaurant is in the same hotel I’m planning on having the launch party, so it seemed like a great way to showcase my idea to him and avoid another round of twenty questions about why I won’t admit I’m the woman he slept with in Vegas.
I texted him back and said I would see him tonight.
His reply was instant. He was looking forward to having dinner with me.
That was the last I heard from him.
It was Trent who showed up in the lobby of the hotel looking for me with a weak excuse about a situation that only his boss could handle.