FireBrew by Liz Crowe

FireBrew by Liz Crowe

Author:Liz Crowe [Crowe, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Published: 2018-01-15T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twelve

“Jane,” my sales assistant called from the hall outside my office. “Ready?”

“Yes, thanks.” I stood and grabbed my suit jacket and keys. It was ribbon cutting day for the new Riverwalk project and we had a fancy cocktail party planned for afterward. The city inspector hadn’t wanted to give us permission to do it since the existing structure was a rickety, graffiti-covered mess. But we’d had some shoring-up work done for a few extra bucks, set up tents outside and figured if the weather held, we’d be out there most of the time anyway.

I’d been in charge of most aspects of it, including the media, and expected all my usual suspects. The catering had been arranged with my close supervision and the tents had been set up on schedule. I had the mayor, city council and all my high-maintenance investors scheduled to show in forty-five minutes. The sky was a bright, late-summer blue and temps hovered at about seventy-five.

This day would be a good one, even if the previous ones since my first ‘meeting’ with Steve Crane and that horror show of a party had been the opposite. I couldn’t even allow myself to think about the second time I’d seen him with his nasty cock shoved into the mouth of the smart MBA girl who brought him coffee during the work day.

I’d made a point to find her the next Monday, to introduce myself and learn her name—it was Ashley. She’d had an angry-looking mark on her neck she kept trying to hide with a pretty silk scarf as we talked. Once I’d established I wanted her help on my next development project thanks to what I considered to be her extreme savvy with numbers, she’d seemed to relax. Like Helen said, we women had to stick together in this place.

I swayed on my feet when I rose, lightheaded from lack of food. The thought of eating these last few days had made my throat contract in anxiety. Since I could always stand to drop a pound or three, I didn’t fight it and had not eaten a bite since managing half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich around midnight the night before.

Something made me glance down at my phone screen right before I heard the light ding from an incoming message. I blinked at the sender and waved at the person hovering in my doorway. “I’m coming. Need to answer this real quick.”

She nodded and scurried away, clutching the new, expensive glossy brochures about the occupancy opportunities for the new project.



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