Kayla’s eyes widened. “Five thousand dollars a plate?”
“Wealthy people won’t bat an eye at that. Aim high, Kayla. Don’t assume to know the budget of a stranger. Besides, people will throw money at something if it makes them look good and gives them an excuse to show up in their best dresses and suits to rub elbows and gossip with other socialites. It’s not that complicated.”
Kayla pulled her purse strap up onto her shoulder. “A gala is possible but I tend not to throw them because they cost so much to host.”
“I’ll pay for it. All the tickets and donations will go straight to Good Fellow’s. Deal?”
Kayla looked down and nodded weakly. “If that’s what you want to do, we can make it happen. I’ll start working on it right away.”
She didn’t look up at me when she brushed past and made her way back down the hall to the front door. I considered following, but the hint of sadness in her voice and her eyes made me feel like the ass I’d been, and I doubted there was anything I could say to take the sadness away.
So I let her leave, heard her close the door behind her, and resented the taste of regret that sat at the back of my tongue.
Chapter 20
Kayla
“Are you sure there’s no chance of rescheduling?” I asked desperately. I’d been on the phone for over twenty minutes with the event coordinator at the Ritz Carlton, who was steadfastly sticking to her guns and had told me nearly a dozen times over that no, there was nothing they could do to open up a ballroom for me to host my fundraiser.
“It’s being hosted by Lukas Holt,” I said, name dropping him for the tenth time that day.
“So you’ve said,” the woman on the other end said. “Look, I know you’re in a tight spot, but I can’t call up the bride and groom who are using the ballroom that day and ask them to reschedule their wedding because Lukas Holt wants it for a fundraiser. I don’t care who he is. I’m not doing it. My commitment is to my clients. We can fit you in at the end of January.”
“That’s too far away.” I sighed. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for your time and your help.”
“Good luck.”
I hung up the phone, slumped forward on my desk, and groaned.
I’d been working around the clock for the last few days trying my hardest to get my foot in the door with a venue for the fundraiser. A fundraiser that I wasn’t even all that interested in hosting.
I hated fundraisers.
I hated the flashy decor and the centerpieces nobody could see over. I hated the gaudy jewelry and the tacky clutches decorated in rhinestones or, in the case of the guests coming to this particular event, diamonds.
The guests who came to these kinds of things never much cared for the cause their money was actually going to. All they cared about was a chance to be seen. They’d buy their way into the event so they could show off their glamorous dresses and designer suits. They’d pull up in their fancy cars and flash smiles at people they hated, who they would promptly talk about behind their back as soon as the chance permitted.
The young ones would end up in coat check to make out with people their parents forbade them to speak to. Others would take it up to a suite they’d booked for the night because they had better sense than to rely on a coat-packed storage room. Others would leave early, pile in the backs of luxury SUVs, and head home to indulge in each other.
And me?
Well, I’d be running around like a chicken with my head cut off, praying like hell nobody wanted or needed anything from me. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to these rich, egotistical, manic, selfish, overindulgent, trust-fund dicks.
My office door swung open. I peeled my cheek off the back of my hands and lifted my head to see Lisa removing her sunglasses and tucking them in a small pocket in the lining of her designer purse.
She smiled at me and cocked her head to the side. “Looks like someone is having a long day.”
“You have no idea.”
“What’s up, babe? Talk to me.” Lisa pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. She set her purse on the floor and crossed one leg over the other.
She looked nice today. Her blonde hair was slicked back, a couple of strands hanging loose to frame her face, and she wore clean makeup with a bold burgundy lip.
Sometimes, I wished I had a reason to get a little dressed up for work. I couldn’t help but feel a little insecure in my blue men’s shirt that said “Good Fellow’s” on the front and my faded jeans.
“Lukas switched gears on me the other day,” I admitted.
“Oh?” Lisa cocked her head to the side.
I sighed heavily and nodded. “He doesn’t want to do any more hands-on activities apparently. And here I was thinking the farm had gone so well.”
“What does he want to do then?”
“Guess?”
Lisa stared blankly at me. “I don’t know.”
“Galas.”
Lisa scoffed. “Of course, he does. Talk about taking the easy way out. Is that what you’re stuck doing then? You’re trying to plan a gala?”
“Yep. He said he’d host and pay for everything. I’ve thrown these kinds of things together before but not to this extent. He wants to charge five thousand dollars a head, Lisa. Five thousand dollars. Obviously, I can’t just call the Comfort Inn and ask if they have one of their conference rooms available. I need a glamorous venue. Something chic and popular that people will actually want to come to.”
“Have you tried the Hilton? Or the Ritz?”
“Both are booked.”
Lisa pursed her lips thoughtfully and drummed her fingers on the armrest of her chair. “I might know a guy.”
“What guy?”
“Just
