A Moment Like You (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,4

about morning sickness and sex during pregnancy,” she lies, and I chuckle when he grumbles.

There’s a clicking sound on the other line and when I check, it’s Henry calling me.

“I need to go. He’s already on the other line,” I complain.

“Good luck,” she says before hanging up.

Once the line goes dead, I remember about the amendments to the will. How did I forget to ask about them? Whatever they changed will affect me. What if Henry can come back to New York?

While I’m on the phone with him, I barely pay any attention to the conversation. He’s just confirming that I brought everything he requested earlier today. Like I can afford to make a mistake. He lives in a world where everything is black and white. One simple error can cost anyone their job—not that I allow it. I always find a way to keep those employees working for us. His rage is incomparable with any human I’ve ever met, but I don’t let him intimidate me.

Once I arrive at the airport, I say, “Mr. Aldridge, I’m about to board the plane. Do you need any further assistance?”

“No, just tell the captain he has his orders,” he informs me. “Have a safe trip, Ms. Aragon.”

Julian, the driver helps me with the boxes and my bag. After they set them inside the jet, I board it and give the pilot Henry’s message.

He rolls his eyes and walks to the cockpit. I take my seat, listen to the flight attendant give the usual instructions through the intercom, and once we’re thirty thousand feet above ground, she approaches me with a champagne flute and a tray.

“Bellini, strawberries, and a lightly toasted croissant,” she says, when she picks up the metal lid.

I stare at the plate and then look at her. “Thank you?”

It sounds better than how do you know that’s my favorite drink and that I love to eat strawberries while enjoying it, right?

“Mr. Aldridge requested them earlier today,” she explains without me prompting her.

I nod, intrigued and…impressed. Why would he bother ordering me…what is this, lunch?

A part of me wants to send him a message to thank him for being so thoughtful. The other part wants to ask what he wants from me. He’s never this nice. Ever.

I don’t bother doing either one because when I turn on my computer there’s an email from him with spreadsheets from Aldry’s Sweets. That’s the factory the Aldridge family founded in the early 1900’s. And my special project. Henry is an expert at giving me the problem children to fix.

William Aldridge let the place go, just like he did with The Lodge. That’s the hotel his family built last century to accommodate tourists and skiers. Saving them is proving to be more challenging than I expected at the beginning. Henry’s focusing on The Lodge, since he’s the hotel whisperer. It sounds like a joke, but he knows hotels like nobody else in the world. His life has always revolved around hotels and hospitality. He worked for his grandfather since the age of sixteen, starting from the bottom.

On the other hand, I’m stuck with the factory. He never said anything directly. The one time he hinted I’d be taking over was when he said, “Sophia, we need to go to the conference room. I need a human approach, because if it’s me, I’d sell the place and wash my hands of it.”

Needless to say, I had to explain to him all the reasons why firing half of the staff was not only wrong but counterproductive. Henry is a brilliant man, but sometimes he concentrates too much on the bottom line. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do the same with The Lodge. He fired a few people and demoted many more.

During my flight to Portland, I go through the reports he sent earlier. We’re purchasing new equipment, rebranding, and focusing on production for the next few months. Maybe I should stay until Monday so I can speak with the current director of operations. He doesn’t like to work outside office hours. With all due respect, the man is old school and should’ve retired twenty years ago. We need to hire new management. I never met William Aldridge, but sometimes I feel like he let everything go just to make this situation that much more difficult for his sons.

Once I land, I see the one and only Henry Aldridge. All six foot and some inches of him leaning against the hood of his Bugatti La Voiture Noire. He wears a