Destiny by Design Read Free

acquisition. “Do you remember the accident last year?”
     
    “Vaguely. I was in England for my cousin’s wedding. By the time I got back the dust had settled.” Ellis drew her brows together trying to access her memory. “Did someone get killed by a falling picture or something?”
     
    “One of Cynthia’s interns,” Remi filled in. “But she wasn’t killed and it wasn’t a picture. It was so tragic. The poor girl was making the bed, fluffing the throw pillows, that sort of thing, and the mirror that had just been installed on the ceiling fell right on top of her. She was cut up pretty badly and suffered some head injury. Anyway, the girl isn’t quite right anymore, if you know what I mean,” he said, tapping his temple.
     
    “How horrible,” sympathized Ellis. “But it was an accident, right? It had nothing to do with Cynthia…”
     
    “Aha,” he said, finding the staple gun he’d been rummaging for. “I haven’t told you the interesting part yet.
     
    “According to my sources, the mirror wasn’t installed correctly. Cynthia wanted a bigger mirror than the one originally planned for in the design—you know her, bigger is always better—but the supports weren’t strong enough. She was on a pretty tight deadline, not to mention budget, so she bribed some poor immigrant worker, who has since been deported, to install the bigger, much heavier mirror.”
     
    “Don’t tell me,” Ellis interjected. “They couldn’t prove who was at fault so nothing happened.”
     
    “That, and Cynthia’s a force to be reckoned with in this town, so no one dared point the finger at her. There was also rumor of a payoff, but who knows.”
     
    “But Cynthia’s company is still in business and although it makes me choke to say it, she’s a talented designer, so it doesn’t explain your prediction that Cynthia’s going to be especially difficult on this project.” Ellis dropped her completed mood boards and moved to help Remi with the toolkits.
     
    “She needs the money, girl—and she needs to win this competition. You’d never know it from her extravagant habits and her never-ending entourage of interns, but business at Afflairs has hit the skids since the incident last summer. She’s barely hanging on, despite maintaining a good façade. Her bank account is nearly empty.”
     
    They finished sorting through the toolkits in silence, lost in thought, each trying to gather their focus for the task at hand.

 
    Chapter Two
     
     
     
    Simon Callon had been over the moon when his construction firm won the coveted contract for the Oak Ridges Development. Had he known what a full-scale pain in the ass the show-house competition was going to be, he would have sold Callon & Son Construction and opened a donut shop. How could ten talented designers make his life such a living hell? Barely a week into the project and some of his men were on the verge of walking off the job, thanks in part to two especially difficult design divas.
     
    Simon had worked with Cynthia Travers before. She was an icon in the design world and at fifty-something, still looked hot. Her coiffed red hair, classic face and diminutive figure belied her feisty, difficult personality. The few times they’d worked together, Cynthia shamelessly flirted with Simon despite their vast age difference.
     
    “Call me Cyn, darling. It’s my nature,” she purred on their first meeting. He always graciously avoided her come-ons because, quite frankly, she scared the shit out of him.
     
    Cynthia Travers was a very demanding woman. Wherever she went, she was followed by a group of interns who buzzed around her like a swarm of bees on a flower cart. They worked very long hours for very little pay and it was well known that Cynthia enjoyed reducing them to tears with her scathing comments. It was amazing what these fledglings would put up with just to have Afflairs on their résumés. As soon as Simon saw her name on the Oak Ridges roster, he knew