19. Victoria

19

VICTORIA

By the time the jet touched down, I could hardly wait to go back to my lake house.

The entire week at Lake Como was spent thinking about how the restoration was going. Robin had kept me updated on all of the progress with the renovations.

But Sarah had been shockingly quiet. I couldn't tell if I was anxious for news about my table or if I just wanted to hear from Sarah generally, but either way, I had checked my phone incessantly for the last week.

As I descended the stairs of my private jet to the Ulster County Airport's small landing strip, I let out a laugh.

My bright red Carrera, parking just a few hundred feet from the plane, was a sight for sore eyes. Never in my life would I have guessed I'd be more excited stepping off a plane in upstate New York than I was hopping on a boat in Italy.

When I was just a few feet from the car, the front door popped open. My driver, Tom, stepped out and did it for me. As I walked past, he slipped me the keys. "Good to see you, ma'am."

"Thanks, Tom. Any updates?" I gave him a pat on the back.

Tom shrugged. "Yankees are looking good for the World Series."

I sucked my teeth and slid into the driver's seat. "And that's all that really matters." With a wink, I grabbed the door handle. "See you soon."

Nodding, Tom stepped away from the car and headed to his own ride, which was waiting just outside the chain link fence that surrounded the tiny local airport.

Once I slammed the door shut, a comforting silence fell over me. Free from the roar of jet engines, I let out a deep breath.

The car was well air-conditioned; Tom left it blasting for me. I checked the clock on the dashboard and put my hand on the stick. My meeting with Sarah was supposed to start in just over an hour, which gave me enough time to drive back to the lake house, get an update from Robin, and wait patiently for my shockingly gorgeous, infamously tardy interior designer.

I put the car into drive and sped off the tarmac, letting the road clear my mind of worry.

A quick thirty minutes later, and the wrought iron gates to my home were swinging open. Robin's trucks were still in the driveway. Teams of construction workers hauled pieces of drywall in through the front door, where a new deck had already been built.

I parked the car a few dozen feet away from the trucks. Of course I could afford to fix a scratch, but it would've been more of a pain in my ass than walking a few extra feet.

As soon as I climbed out of the driver's seat, the powerful engine now still, the front door swung open. Robin's chipper face greeted me as she waved. "Good to see you, boss."

"You too, Robin." I shook my head as I walked closer. She was a lot goofier than she looked. Externally, she projected a kind of tough, masculine contractor vibe. But the more she talked about her expectant wife and their plans for the nursery, the more I realized Robin was just a gentle bear.

I stopped just before the porch steps, where freshly stained wood popped out against the dim, old siding.

Robin cleared her throat. "Obviously the new paint on the siding will help a lot."

"I can see the vision." I nudged her shoulder. I'd been surprised by the camaraderie I felt for Robin and her team. During the renovations of my other houses, the contractors had felt like strangers. But Robin had brought me in, embraced me as a local, and was just as invested in turning the lake house into my dream home as I was.

I climbed up the steps, my Gucci sneakers thudding softly on each piece of wood.

Leading me inside, Robin walked me through what had been done in my absence. "So, we got all of the plumbing and electric done. The entire house has been rewired to exceed modern standards. Right now, we're hanging drywall on the second floor. And then the team is going to roll through the first and second floor with joint compound before the end of the day so that we can get sanding tomorrow."

I nodded. "What happens after that?"

Robin smirked. "We handle molding and trim. Then Sarah gives us paint selections for each room, and we get moving on that."

Letting a sigh out of my tight lungs, I walked toward the stairs. Before I could go any further, Robin shoved a bright yellow hard hat into my hands. "Safety first."

I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes. The helmets made sense when we were tearing the place down to the studs. But at this stage, there weren't any falling hazards.

Reluctantly, I placed the hardhat over my perfectly wind-swept hair. A sports car was a better investment than an on-call stylist for that reason alone.

I climbed the creaking wood stairs in the foyer, letting the winding handrail guide me. It was one of the original features I had fought the town to keep. They had claimed the stairs were unsafe and had to be replaced, but I set Robin's charm on them. With enough reinforcement to the steps, the town council eventually left me alone.

Even as I climbed the stairs, I could see just how incredible the light pouring in was.

"These new windows make such a huge difference." I gawked at them as I reached the second-floor landing. Crossing to the lake-front view, I stared out at the glimmering water.

Distorted by the brand sticker protecting the glass, it wasn't a pristine view just yet. The landscapers were just getting started on the yard, which mostly meant tearing out all of the overgrown mess that had festered over the last two decades.

"So, what do you think?" Robin cleared her throat.

Nodding, I took a deep breath. "You've done a good job. We're still on schedule?"

Robin took a look at the small spiral notebook that usually hid in her back pocket. "I don't want to jinx us, but we're technically ahead. As long as Sarah's ready to go, we'll be ready for the Labor Day party."

A smirk took over my face. The invites had already gone out with a scenic picture of the lake front. But actually finishing the project on time would all depend on a smooth collaboration with Sarah.

The gold band of my Rolex jostled as I checked the time. Sarah was supposed to arrive at the house in about half an hour for lunch out on the dock.

"Thanks, Robin. I'm going to check on my lunch plans. If you need anything, shoot me a text."

With a nod, Robin tucked her notebook back into her work pants. "You got it, boss."

I strutted past her and back down the stairs. The drywall made the entire house feel brighter. My mind started to run wild with design ideas as I looked at the place. Hopefully, Sarah would be open to a few slight changes. If she was as good at her job as I knew she was, it shouldn't cause any problems with our timeline.

But my nerves weren't really about the change in plans. No, it was much more about the fact that I hadn't seen Sarah in over a week; that I had been thinking about her soft, stunning face every time I closed my eyes. Lake Como had nothing on a woman like Sarah.

But I had to keep my cool. I was a tech billionaire for god's sake. I'd had everyone and everything I'd ever wanted. And still, Sarah felt different.

Shaking myself out of it, I sauntered outside toward the guest house.

I needed to make sure everything was exactly right before Sarah arrived.

Just as the clock struck 3 pm, I took a seat at the small bistro table my staff had set up on the dock. Leaning back in the upholstered, oatmeal-colored chair, I tapped my fingers against the pristine, white table cloth.

A small charcuterie board sat at the center, untouched.

I looked over to the gate as the minutes started to tick by. Nothing.

Did she forget? The thought made my stomach turn, disappointment bubbling to the service.

From the corner of my eye, I could see my wait staff on hold. A bottle of champagne sat on ice just inside the guest house, ready to be carried out the moment Sarah settled in.

But thirty minutes later, my head was in my hands. It was time to give up.

I pulled out my phone, drafting a text that read:

Hi, shall we reschedule our lunch for another day?

My finger hovered over the blue arrow. Just as I was about to let my finger drop on the button, I heard rubber tires on asphalt.

I whipped my head to the gate where I saw her minivan rolling into place. Through her very untinted windows, I could see Sarah scrambling to collect herself. A giggle rose in my chest as I watched her. Even in a panic, she looked unbelievably gorgeous.

She threw open the driver's side door and waved down at me. Over the front yard, she hollered, "I'm so sorry!"

Standing from my chair, I shook my head. "No need." She was basically running down the dock to meet me.

"I hope you weren't waiting long." Sarah sighed.

I waved her off, swallowing the truth. "Not at all, I was running late too."

Chuckling, Sarah came in for a hug. "It's hard to imagine you being late for anything."

I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer than I meant to. Without thinking about it, I gave her a peck on the cheek.

As Sarah pulled away, she tucked a hair behind her ear. It was impossible to tell if the pink rising in her cheeks was from the jog down the dock or a faint blush. "Used to the Italians now, huh?"

Leave it to Sarah to give me a convenient excuse for pressing my lips against her gentle cheeks. I nodded. "I guess so."

Before I sat down, I walked around the table and pulled out her chair.

"Oh, thank you." Sarah gulped as she sat down, suddenly avoiding my eyes.

I tucked her chair in. Something inside me felt daring, letting my hand graze her back as I moved back to my own seat. My voice dropped to a low rumble, "You're welcome."

After I sat across from her, a caterer made their way down the long dock and placed the stainless steel ice bucket in the matching stand next to the table.

"Cheers." I nodded to the well-dressed gentleman.

Sarah's eyebrows lifted. "Wow."

A bottle of Dom Pérignon stuck out of the top of the bucket. Once the waiter had cleared the dock, I reached in, grabbed the perfectly chilled glass, and started to twist the muselet off the top.

Sarah watched my hands closely, a part of her clearly expecting the bottle to explode and spray champagne all over the dock.

"You're a pro," she teased.

Looking up from the bottle, I set the metal cage in the bucket. I couldn't stop myself from smirking as I pulled at the cork. "You'll get used to it."

Sarah's lips parted with a small gasp just as the pop of the cork echoed off of the lake

I reached across the table and grabbed her champagne flute, pouring the bubbly into it. Pouring just to the ideal two thirds mark, I filled both of our glasses. Even as I tried to keep my cool, I wasn't sure what was coming over me. I was being bold, far bolder than I was with most women.

Sarah took a sip from her glass and groaned. "Wow, that tastes good."

"Thank god for that." I winked as I took a sip of my own. I'd bought an entire case and took up far too much cargo space bringing that back for it to be anything less than good.

A silence settled over the table as we dug into the board of food in front of us.

After a moment, Sarah wiped hands. "I'm really sorry about being late. It's so unprofessional."

I waved her off. "Please, I know you're a busy woman."

"That's not an excuse. I hope you know how much I value this project." She paused, letting her blue eyes fall, "And you."

My jaw clenched at the words. I never wanted to put her in a strange position. After all, I was paying her to work for me. But she was a free agent, and so was I. And I had an idea what might help Sarah Greenwood to relax.

I narrowed my eyes. "Let me take you to dinner."