“I watched you two together at the wedding. Even when he screwed with you and made you give that speech, there was a sparkle in his eye. There was real chemistry there.”

I finished off my wine. “Some chemistry leads to explosions. Trust me, I know.”

“But why ask you out and then never call?”

I shook my head. “To get even. Same reason he left me sitting in the lobby.”

For the next hour, Fisher and I drank wine. Because he was the bestest friend of all best friends, he let me repeat everything I’d told him on the phone earlier without complaining.

But the long day of sitting around and consuming too much alcohol eventually got to me, so when I yawned for a second time, he stood to go.

“I’ll let you get some rest. You have two days. Today was for being pissed off and drinking. Tomorrow is for wallowing. Thursday, we get back on the horse and figure out where to go from here. We’ll make this work.”

I didn’t want to be an even bigger downer and say I had no place left to go, except maybe the unemployment line. Fisher meant well. “Thanks for listening to me.”

“Anytime, my princess.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead before heading for the door. Grabbing his suit jacket from the kitchen, he said. “Almost forgot—you had mail in your box. You want it on the couch?”

“Nah. I’ll look at it tomorrow.”

He set it down on the kitchen counter. “Get some sleep, my Stella Bella.”

“Goodnight, Fisher.”

After he closed the door, I forced myself up and walked around my box-filled apartment, shutting off lights. In the kitchen, a thick manila envelope on the bottom of the mail pile caught my eye.

I know that logo...

But it can’t be…

Since I didn’t have my glasses on, I picked it up to eye it more closely.

Sure enough, the circle with the R entwined through it was exactly what I’d thought it was. What the hell would Rothschild Investments be sending me? Another go screw yourself letter? Maybe this time with an itemized bill for the food and drinks I’d had at Olivia’s wedding, along with an invoice for Hudson’s precious time?

I’d had enough torture for the day and probably should’ve just left it for the morning. But leaving well enough alone was never my forte. So I slipped my finger under the seal and sliced open the envelope. Inside was a cover letter written on the same letterhead as the one I’d received a few days ago. Underneath looked like a bunch of legal documents…Term Sheet, Investor’s Rights Agreement, Stock Purchase Agreement…

What the hell is all this?

Grabbing my glasses, I shuffled back to the cover letter to read.

Dear Ms. Bardot,

After careful reconsideration, Rothschild Investments is delighted to extend an offer of investment to your company, Signature Scent, LLC. The proposed structure, amounts, and terms can be found in the Term Sheet. Kindly go through the enclosed literature discussing the details of our proposal. As our offer affects the voting rights and your ownership stake within your company, we strongly suggest you have your attorney review all documentation prior to signing.

We are pleased to invite you to be part of the Rothschild Investments family and look forward to bringing your innovative product to market.

Sincerely yours,

Hudson Rothschild

Was this some sort of joke? Could what I had said during the two minutes he’d allotted me this afternoon have changed his mind, and he’d messengered over this letter? But how would a messenger have gotten into my locked mailbox?

Still feeling like there had to be some sort of mistake, I reread the cover letter before sifting through the documents. It seemed like a legitimate offer. Granted, I didn’t understand most of the legal mumbo jumbo, but it appeared that Rothschild Investments wanted to invest in Signature Scent in exchange for a forty-percent stake in the company. And the first line did say reconsideration and not consideration. I just couldn’t believe it. I’d actually changed his mind today? In the measly two minutes he’d allotted me before walking out?

I stood in the kitchen with my mouth hanging open—until I noticed the date on the top of the letter. It wasn’t today. It was dated three days ago. Grabbing the envelope I’d dropped on the table, I scanned the postmark. Sure enough, it had been mailed three days ago.

Which meant…

Hudson had sent this out before he let me sit in the waiting room for two days.

What the hell?

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.”