Chapter 49
Chapter 49
VICKY’S POV
“Chop chop, Fre, we don’t have all morning,” I whispered loudly, snappin’ my fingers at a sluggish Freya, who seemed to be takin’ a whole century just to pack up a couple of tablets and some work files.
We were scramblin’ around my place, tryin’ to get out the door before the traffic down by the harbor turned into a total nightmare.
Freya blinked her big eyes, her hands shakin’ just a little as she crammed the last folder into her briefcase. She was definitely growin’ a spine after that glorious hallway slap yesterday, but she was still a meek little éclair at heart, and speed wasn’t exactly her strong suit yet.
“I’m tryin’, Ms. Vicky,” she squeaked, adjustin’ her glasses. “I just want to make sure we have all the Moretti Autos customs manifests before we meet the shipping crews.”
“You’re doin’ great, kid, but move it or lose it. Time is money, and I ain’t plannin’ on keepin’ a multi-millionaire Italian stallion waitin’ on the docks,” I said, slidin’ my phone out of my back pocket as it started buzzin’ with a FaceTime request.
The screen lit up, and my bestie’s gorgeous face popped up on the display. Cindy was callin’ all the way from her new setup in London, lookin’ radiant and completely unbothered by the grey British weather visible through the tall windows behind her.
Cindy is the true heiress to the Verilli Group empire, the one who was originally supposed to be runnin’ this shipping sector. But since she packed up her life to move across the Atlantic with her husband, Damian, and their adorable little girl to start fresh, she had dumped the whole golden throne right into my lap.
And honestly? I’m lovin’ every friggin’ second of it.
“Look at you, corporate queen!” Cindy laughed, her voice echoin’ through the line. “Are you already running late on your second day?”
“Oh, shut up, Cin,” I grinned, packin’ my lip gloss into my purse while coachin’ Freya toward the front door with an urgent wave of my hand.
“We are on schedule, regular clockwork over here. How’s London treatin’ you? More importantly, how’s my favorite little gurl doin’?”
“She’s amazing, Vicky. She’s already picking up a tiny bit of a British accent from her playgroup, which Damian thinks is hilarious,” Cindy beamed, before her face turned a bit mischievous.
“Yeah, speaking of Damian? How is he? Hope he’s still behavin’ himself and bein’ a good boy. He isn’t womanizin’ anymore over there in the fog, is he? Because I swear to God, if he tries any of his old tricks, I’m flyin’ over there myself to straighten him out.”
Cindy let out a loud, melodious laugh, she’s literally used to my blunt mouth and overprotective ass.
“Oh, trust me, Vicky, he doesn’t dare. Not when he knows his father-in-law would literally roast him to death from across the ocean. Dad still keeps tabs on everything, you know that.”
Hearing Leo’s name made a sudden, wicked wave of heat rush straight down my spine.
My mind flashed instantly to yesterday afternoon behind the closed doors of his executive office. The possessiveness in his voice and the dominant weight of his hands when he threw me over the sofa to discipline me for defyin’ him in the boardroom… Jesus, my skin still tingled just thinkin’ about it.
He had tried to put me in my place, but it only made me want to push his buttons even harder.
“Yeah, well, the old man can try to keep tabs all he wants,” I muttered, grabbin’ my jacket as Freya and I finally stepped out into the hallway, headin’ straight for the door.
We made it to the garage in no time. I tossed my bag into the passenger seat of the car and slid into the back, lettin’ Freya take the wheel so I could stay focused on the phone.
The second Freya pulled out into the chaotic morning traffic, headin’ toward the city’s northern port terminal, Cindy’s expression on the screen turned a little more serious.
“So, business talk,” Cindy said, leanin’ closer to her camera.
“The corporate grapevine travels fast, Vicky. I already heard some nasty rumors circulating through the offices at the company. People are talking a lot of trash, saying you only got the manager chair through pure nepotism.”
I let out a loud, dismissive scoff, leanin’ my head back against the leather seat and lookin’ out the window as the industrial cranes of the harbor started peekin’ through the skyline.
“Oh, Cindy, baby, you are still a Boston girl at heart. Even though you’re livin’ across the world in London, you literally know every single drop of tea spillin’ in Verilli’s hallways. It’s wild.”
“Of course I do. It’s my family’s company,” she pointed out. “Are you okay with what they’re saying?”
“Please, don’t bother your head about all those miserable vultures,” I snapped, flickin’ a piece of lint off my jeans.
“They’re just wicked jealous because they’ve been wearin’ those stiff pencil skirts for ten years and still haven’t touched a major international deal. And mind you, I’m headin’ over to my very first official project gig right now to prove every single one of them wrong. I’m meetin’ that Italian guy, Enzo Moretti.”
Cindy nodded, her eyes shiftin’ into pure business mode.
“Ah, the Moretti Autos deal. Dad said they’re the number one exclusive automotive group in Italy and they want to use our exclusive Verilli Milan pipeline to handle the distribution of their cargo, importing automobile parts and other related products straight from Italy through our Northern ports. It’s a huge contract, Vicky.”
“I know,” I said, a confident smirk tugging at my lips. “And I’m gonna run it flawlessly.”
Cindy laughed, and it was a proud one.
“Alaric actually called me last night, you know. He told me everything about how you stubbornly defied my dad right in front of the investors. He said dad looked like a volcano ready to erupt.”