Holiday Hoax: Chapter 24
Holiday Hoax: A Fake Marriage Billionaire Romance (The Cartwright Family Book 1)
A Few Days Later
âAfter you,â I say, opening the door to our hotel. Georgia and I were downstairs eating breakfast. She finally agreed to show me her franchise concept. Iâve been bugging her all week to show me, and I could tell she was closer to caving. Now that sheâs agreed, Iâm chomping at the bit to see it.
âArenât you the eager beaver?â she teases and steps inside.
âYep. And proud of it,â I declare. I grab my laptop off the desk. âSit.â
She obeys, and I take the seat next to her. I turn on the laptop, punch in my security code, and place it on her lap. âGo ahead and log in.â
She bites her lip and winces.
My gut sinks. âWhatâs wrong? Youâre not backing out, are you?â
She hesitates, stating, âNo. Itâs just⦠Well, Iâve not shown anyone this.â
âMelanie has seen it,â I point out.
âMelanie doesnât count,â she claims.
I dramatically gape, then lean closer and lower my voice. âDoes Melanie know this?â
Georgia puts her hand over her face and groans. âNo. That sounded bad, didnât it?â
âYep. So why doesnât she count?â I question.
Georgia turns more toward me. âSheâs my friend. Sheâll tell me she likes it, no matter what.â
I arch my eyebrows at her. âI doubt that. Melanie seems like sheâll always tell you what she thinks. But do you think if I see something wrong with it, Iâm not going to point it out?â
She cringes. âYeah. Thatâs what Iâm kind of scared of.â
I chuckle. âCome on, Sunshine. Iâm sure itâs fabulous. Let me see what youâve planned. Plus, you know Iâd only point something out if I thought there was a major mistake that could hurt you.â
She takes a deep breath and logs in to the cloud. She inquires, âWhat do you want to see first?â
âWhatever you want to show me.â
She scans the different folders, then pulls up one labeled graphics. She clicks several times, and a logo pops up on the screen. Itâs a huge gourmet chocolate cupcake with pink frosting, and the word âGrammyâsâ is written in a scripted font, and âCupcakesâ is in a bold block script.
I blurt out, âThatâs badass.â
âYou like it?â
I scoot closer. âYes, I do. Your fonts are great. They pop. And so do the colors. I can see that on a wall.â
She beams proudly. âIt will be. Right behind the counter!â She clicks on another folder, and a layout appears. Excitement grows in her voice as she informs me, âI hired a designer to create this. I know it would have to be scaled to each building, but this is the basic design I want.â
I study it for a moment, looking at all the details, impressed with how thorough the specs are.
Before I can say anything, Georgia points to the kitchen. âThe appliances have to be here. The ovens I want to buy can make over a hundred cupcakes an hour. The number per building will depend on the location and kitchen size. And I wanted to make sure that things run efficiently. So this is why the sink needs to go here, the ovens here, and the mixers here. The dishwashing station is there.â
âThat makes sense. I wouldnât have thought about that stuff. You put a lot of time into this,â I state.
She nods, then moves her hand out to the front of the store. âThe display case with the cupcakes has to be first. I canât stand it when you go into a bakery, and youâre supposed to order, but the display case is after the cashier. It doesnât make sense.â
Iâve never really thought about it, but sheâs right. I proudly declare, âOnce again, genius idea.â
She tilts her head. âAre you being condescending?â
I furrow my eyebrows. âNo, not at all. Why would you think that?â
She exhales but avoids answering my question. âOkay. So the hot drink station for the fancy coffees and teas will be here. The cold case for the sodas and water will be here.â She points to the area before the customer would order.
âMakes perfect sense. Whatâs this?â I ask, pointing to an area that looks like couches.
She motions to the front of the building. âThese are normal tables, but I thought this could be an area where people can meet and stay awhile. Kind of a lounging area, so I thought couches and overstuffed armchairs would be comfier.â She motions to the corner. âThis is going to be a quiet area. Thereâll be a glass wall so people can go inside and work.â
Impressed, I study it, commenting, âYou really have thought of everything.â
âI want Grammyâs Cupcakes to be a place where people come in and stay. Somewhere they feel welcomeâ¦kind of like home,â she admits.
I slide my arm around her shoulder and kiss her cheek. âYou have good ideas. I love everything about it. Thank you for showing me.â
Her cheeks slightly flush. She smiles and inquires, âDo you want to look at my spreadsheets?â
I rub my hands together. âOf course I want to look at your spreadsheets.â
She laughs and rolls her eyes. âThat was a dumb question, wasnât it?â
âYou know it,â I reply.
She opens another folder and pulls up a spreadsheet with a dozen different tabs. She clicks on one and states, âThis is the one for the build-out.â
I know a lot about build-outs, so I study it. I whistle, âYouâre pretty bang on with your numbers.â
She beams, then opens another tab. âThis is what the franchise costs will be based on from when I last researched it. I updated it about a month ago. Not much changed.â
I review her costs. Her attorney fees are sky-high. I move the mouse over them. âWhere did you get the numbers for this category?â
âI got several quotes,â she answers.
âI have the firm you should use. Itâll cost a third,â I claim.
Her eyes widen. âSeriously?â
âYes.â
âThatâs a ton of money to save!â
I do everything I can to not smile. I donât want her to think Iâm being condescending againâIâm not. Iâm so impressed by what sheâs already planned, I canât even describe it. I hold my serious face and assert, âIâll introduce you when we return to Dallas.â
âThanks.â
âOf course. Whatâs this tab?â I question.
She opens it. âThis is the monthly fixed costs and then I have the variables on this side. Because of my ingredients, I canât be certain what theyâll be. And the more I buy, the cheaper the costs will be, so itâll change. I did run this spreadsheet.â She clicks on another tab. âAnd these are the base prices for ingredients for bulk for the last five years.â
Every single day for the last five years has a date and price. Shocked, I ask, âHow did you get this?â
She shrugs. âI researched it.â
âThis is ridiculously detailed,â I claim.
âToo much?â she asks, wincing again.
âNo, not at all. This is impressive, Sunshine.â
âIt is?â she questions again.
âOf course it is. Why are you second-guessing yourself because Iâm looking at it?â I inquire.
Her face turns red. âI am, arenât I?â
âYes. And you shouldnât,â I declare.
She releases a stress-filled breath. âYouâre right.â
âYou know this inside and out. Donât ever doubt yourself,â I tell her.
She smiles, and my heart swells. She quietly replies, âThanks.â
I know the perfect spot for her first bakery in Dallas.
I rise, announcing, âI have to go to the restroom. Iâll be right back.â
âOkay.â
I lean down and put my face in front of hers. âThis is a killer plan. Youâre going to be super successful with it.â
She beams. âThanks. I appreciate your confidence.â
âThereâs no reason for you not to do this,â I add, then peck her on the lips. âIâll be right back.â I go into the restroom and grab the phone receiver off the wall, then hit the extension for the spa. A woman chirps, âGood morning, Mr. Cartwright. This is Anna. How can I assist you?â
âI need to schedule my wife for a manicure and pedicure today.â
She answers, âIâm sorry, but weâre fully booked today.â
âI figured, but Iâll give your entire staff a generous bonus, and I need the appointment to be within the next half hour,â I state.
âOhâ¦ummâ¦â
I continue, âI donât care what else I need to add to this, but I need my wife to get a manicure and pedicure.â
Anna asserts, âMr. Cartwright, just a moment, please.â
âSure.â I stare at myself in the mirror, tapping my hand against my thigh.
Anna returns to the line. âOkay. We can make that happen. Please send your wife over.â
âThank you,â I state and hang up. I pretend to flush the toilet and wash my hands. I leave the bathroom and announce, âI have a surprise for you.â
Georgia turns her head. âAnother one? Youâre spoiling me.â
I pull her off her feet. âYou have an appointment at the spa.â
âWhat?â
âPedicure and manicure. You need to go now, or youâll be late,â I declare.
âI thought we were going to go downtown?â she asks.
âWe will, but you have an appointment first.â
She glances at her nails. âAre they that bad?â
I chuckle. âNo, but when we were at our massages, the lady kept claiming how amazing the manicures and pedicures were here. So I booked you one.â
She grins, rises on her toes, then tosses her arms around me. âThank you. Youâre the best.â
âCan you say that again?â I ask.
She softly laughs. âNope. Youâll have to do something else for me to say that again.â
I challenge, âSomething like what I did to you last night?â
Her face turns beet red. She admits, âYeah, something like that.â
I pat her on the ass and move her toward the door. âGood. Challenge accepted.â
âWhat are you going to do while Iâm there?â
âI have to take care of a few things for the merger. Let me get that out of the way. You get your pedicure and manicure and then we can spend the rest of the day together. Okay?â
She smiles. âAll right.â
I walk her to the spa, kiss her, then tell her Iâll pick her up when itâs over. I hurry back to the room and turn on my laptop. I make copies of all of her plans, and then I call Victoria.
She answers, âSebastian, I thought you were on your honeymoon.â
âI am, but I have something I need you to do,â I reply.
âGetting right down to business. Normal Mr. Cartwright that I know well,â she teases.
âSorry. Victoria, how are you doing?â I ask.
She chirps, âWell, Iâm great, Sebastian. Thank you for asking. Now, what can I do for you today?â
I drop the bomb. âI need you to make sure that the new lease in the Main Street district doesnât go through.â
Silence fills the line.
âAre you still there?â I ask.
She clears her throat. âWhy would we not close that deal? Itâs high rent and a huge profit.â
âIâm fully aware,â I assert.
âWould you like to tell me why weâre not doing it?â she asks.
âNo, not really. Iâll let you know soon though.â
She groans. âAre you serious right now? Youâre not going to tell me why?â
I debate, then give in. âThis is between us, but Iâm giving it to Georgia for her bakery.â
More silence fills the line.
âHello?â I say.
âThatâs⦠Thatâs incredible, Sebastian.â
âMake sure it doesnât close, Victoria,â I direct.
She answers, âIâm on it.â
I get off the phone with her and call my builder, Liam.
He booms, âSebastian, what do I owe the pleasure?â Hammers and saws hum in the background.
âI have something I need you to do, and it needs to get done today,â I assert.
He groans. âWhy do I have a feeling youâre about to make my day a pain in the ass?â
I chuckle. âBecause I am.â
He sighs. âWhat do you need done?â
âThe building down in the Main Street districtâI need you to pull permits for it. I want them issued today.â
He whistles. âThat will cost you at least six figures. Weâre going to have to grease Eduardo.â
âYeah, I know,â I say, hating that I have to give Eduardo money. I canât stand the pig, and he canât stand me, so itâll cost me a pretty penny. However, whatever it takes, Iâm going to get it done.
âWhy donât you tell him you need it in a few days? Itâll cost you a fifth of the price,â Liam suggests.
I stare out the window at the icy snow and the buildings gleaming with lights. âLiam, I donât care what it costs. I want permits, and I want them today. Go grease the fat bastard, and let me know when itâs done.â
âAll right, boss,â he concedes and hangs up.
I text him.
Me: Iâm sending you plans. I need them fitted to the current space.
Liam: On it.
I email him the plans that Georgiaâs designer made.
I call the company I use for our logos. Normally my assistant does this, but Iâm not leaving this to anyone.
The receptionist answers, âDallas Logos. This is Sabrina. How may I help you?â
âHi, Sabrina. This is Sebastian Cartwright. I need to talk to your boss.â
She clears her throat. âYes, Mr. Cartwright, just a moment. Can you hold, please?â
âYep,â I reply.
Not long passes before her boss, Mark, answers. âSebastian, whatâs going on?â
âI just emailed you a logo with the materials I want it made with. How long will it take? And donât tell me a few months,â I demand.
âWell, everything can be done for a price,â he dangles in front of me.
âI donât care what it costs, Mark. I need it, and itâs got to happen soon,â I state.
âWorst-case scenario is probably a week. For a price, of course.â
âOf course,â I sneer, then pull up the calendar on my phone. A week gives me enough time. Still, I tell him, âA weekâs pushing it, Mark. I want it before then.â
He concedes, âMaybe five days, Sebastian, but you have to understand. Some things need to sit and cool off before we can attach other materials to them. Five days is the soonest possible if you donât want it falling apart.â
âFine. Get it done,â I instruct.
âDone. Since I have you on the phoneââ
âCall my office. Bye,â I interject and hang up.
I send an email to my legal team to start the process of franchising Georgiaâs concept. I attach the documents theyâll need and tell them to put it in her name. I start to write Peach, then pause.
I donât debate long. Her nameâs not legally changed yet, but I still put Georgia Peach Cartwright on it.
I spend the next hour making plans for the rest of the day. Thereâs a Santa Claus hunt in the downtown area. It has thirteen hidden hologram Santa Clauses around the city, and you walk around trying to find them. When Georgia and I read about it, she stated it would be fun.
Then I buy tickets for a Christmas concert scheduled before the Reykjavik Food Walk. Weâll visit five to six unique Icelandic restaurants and get to eat a different cuisine at each of the venues. Itâs supposed to be super authentic, and I donât doubt Georgia will be pumped about it.
Finally, I buy tickets for ice skating. I know Iâll spend most of the time on my ass since Iâm not a skater, but Georgiaâs eyes lit up when she saw the rink. If it costs me bruised ass cheeks to see her glow like that, Iâll do it all night long.
By the time Iâm done planning, Liam sends me a text.
Liam: Permitâs done, but itâs 120k. Enjoy writing the check.
Me: Thanks. Now get your night crews on this. Whatever it takes, you need to be done by Christmas Eve.
Liam: Thatâs pushing it.
Me: I donât care. Get it done.
Liam: Someone have you by the balls or something?
Yep. And happily so.
Me: Itâs for my wife. Now, get it done.