the hotel? But they’d already finished the project, and Jane said he’d been thrilled with the results.
“Hello?”
Farrah realized she hadn’t answered him yet. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, hi.” She swatted at Olivia, whose expression had morphed from curious to amused at Farrah’s fumbling response. “How did you get my number?”
She winced. The question came out ruder than she’d intended.
“I called KBI, and they told me you no longer work there. I had them give me your personal cell.” Landon sounded apologetic. “I realize I may be overstepping my boundaries, and I’m sorry for calling so late on a Friday night.”
“It’s ok. I…decided to pursue other opportunities outside KBI.” Nonexistent ones. But he didn’t need to know that. “Is something wrong with the hotel?”
“No, the hotel’s great. In fact, you did such a good job I wanted to see if you’d be willing to help a buddy of mine. He just moved to New York and his apartment’s looking a little sad. The guy can’t decorate to save his life.” Landon laughed. “Anyway, he needs an interior designer, and I think you’d be a great fit. If you have time, of course.”
Farrah clutched her phone so hard she heard it crack. Every word out of Landon’s mouth sent her spiraling down another tunnel of shock, disbelief, and excitement.
“You want me? Not KBI?”
What are you doing? her mind screamed. Don’t sabotage yourself!
But she didn’t understand why the heir to one of the country’s largest hotel chains was seeking her out for a project. KBI had plenty of amazing designers, and she didn’t even specialize in residences.
“It’s unorthodox,” Landon acknowledged. “But like I said, you stood out on the hotel project, and your personality is, er, better-suited for this than your colleagues.”
Now that, she believed. Neither Kelly nor Matt would win Miss or Mr. Congeniality any time soon.
“I realize this is short notice, but my friend will pay twenty percent above your full rate and—”
“I’ll do it!”
Farrah’s shout caused Olivia’s head to pop up from the couch, where she’d retreated with her latest erotica book.
Farrah cleared her throat. “I mean, I think I can find the time.”
“Great. Are you free for a lunch meeting on Monday? One p.m. at The Aviary. I’ll introduce you to my friend and get the ball rolling. Meal’s on the house.”
The Aviary was the signature restaurant at Z Central Park—the same hotel Farrah helped redesign. An average meal there cost several hundred dollars a pop.
“Yes. Sounds good.”
Farrah hung up and pinched herself. Ow.
Holy shit. This wasn’t a dream. Landon Zinterhofer just called her and offered her an interior design gig—at twenty percent above her full rate.
She didn’t know what her full rate was, but she’d figure it out.
Farrah had no plans to freelance full-time, but this was the perfect project for her to sink her teeth into while she waited for callbacks from design firms.
I’m not going to be broke and forced to move back home!
Farrah couldn’t hold it in any longer. She squealed and did a little happy dance that had Olivia staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head and antenna.
“Who was that? Is everything ok?”
“Yes.” Farrah grinned from ear to ear, breathless with exhilaration. “Everything is perfect.”
Farrah spent the weekend researching the nitty-gritty of how to be a freelance design consultant, from standard hourly rates to drawing up a client contract. She also threw together a portfolio and brought it with her to the lunch meeting. Even though Landon had all but guaranteed her the job, she wanted to make a good impression on his friend. He was, after all, the one who would be paying her.
Farrah strode into The Aviary. Natural light flooded through the domed glass ceiling and the walls of windows overlooking the park. It was one of her favorite rooms in the hotel, and the one she’d worked most on.
Confidence coursed through her as she took in the sleek gray chairs, sculptured tables, and strategically placed plants. An indoor waterfall cascaded over a sheet of black slate, providing a soothing white noise soundtrack for the business negotiations and high-society gossip sessions taking place throughout the restaurant. She could see Central Park through the windows—a vast, rolling green carpet speckled with patches of lakes and encircled by a forest of sun-drenched skyscrapers.
She could do this. So what if she’d never tackled a project from start to finish by herself? She’d figure it out. She had the design chops, and that was what mattered the most.
Farrah zeroed in on where