New Beginnings
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Heather Gray
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541K
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20
Chapter 1
CHELSEA
I wake to the sound of my alarm, practically jumping out of bed in excitement. I’m more than ready for the first day of my new job. I love what I do. It’s been a really hard year, but this, finally, is my new beginning.
After the dust settled on a tragic chapter of my life in Miami a few months ago, I packed up and started traveling across the country on an open-ended road trip.
I’m not really sure what I was looking for, but while exploring the Chicago area, I stumbled upon this gorgeous colonial house in the suburb of Evanston, close to the lake. It was perfect.
So I found a job in the area, put down an offer on the house, and six weeks later, I moved in!
I walk into the bathroom, feeling like a giddy teenager, to do my makeup. I’ve always been into glam, but today I go for a more natural look, enhancing my features.
I take a good look at myself in the mirror as I’m primping. My soft, brown eyes are surrounded by long, thick eyelashes. My lips are plump, and my high cheekbones are a perfect match with my narrow jaw.
My blonde hair reaches my mid-back, falling in soft waves. I look good. I’ve always loved giving off girl boss vibes, and I’m currently pulling it off perfectly.
For my first day, I’ve chosen a white, ribbed, bodycon dress with gold buttons, paired with my favorite nude pumps. Thankfully it’s spring weather, so I won’t need a coat today. I am so not looking forward to my first real Chicago winter.
Quickly making my way downstairs, I grab a cup of coffee in a travel mug as well as my Tory Burch tote bag that I use for work, with my laptop and portfolio inside. Jumping into my silver Mercedes GLE, I take another look at my house and smile.
It’s no wonder I fell in love with the place: a two-story white colonial with dark blue shutters and front door. It’s big, much more space than I really need, but I do hope to have a family again someday.
With five bedrooms, a home office, a small library/reading room, and a large, brand-new kitchen, this place practically screams “family.”
I back out of my driveway and head into the city for work. I’m the newest agent at Lockwood Real Estate, an up-and-coming boutique firm. It’s run by Anne Lockwood, a true powerhouse of a woman.
Anne had absolutely nothing after her divorce ten years ago, so she got her real estate license and started her own business.
It was just her that first year, but now she has fifteen real estate agents and five assistants, working with properties all over the city. Oh, and she only hires women. She’s seriously goals!
I’ve already been to the Lockwood offices a couple of times, met everyone working here, and even been assigned an office, so it’s not too scary. “Hey Kelly,” I greet the receptionist as I step out of the elevator.
“Hey girl!” she says, beaming. Kelly is tiny and blonde, and wears a pastel pink twin set like it’s still the fifties. “Ready for your first day?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, and flash her a cheesy thumbs-up, internally facepalming the moment I do.
The space is big and open, with offices along both sides and a few meeting rooms in between. In the middle, there’s an open space with desks for the assistants.
No one has a private assistant here; we’re supposed to just ask whoever’s available when we need help. That’ll be a bit of an adjustment, I think. I had a great relationship with my assistant back at my Miami firm.
There’s also a large lounge area with big, comfy sofas. Behind the reception desk is a kitchen with, thank God, a state-of-the-art coffeemaker. I drain my travel mug and make a beeline to grab a refill. I’m a coffee girl; can you tell?
I head into my office and set down my bag, taking a moment to breathe in the space. All the offices have big windows overlooking the city and glass walls facing the communal space, so it’s light all around us. I absolutely love it.
Grabbing my iPad and Apple Pencil, I head to the meeting room, ready for my first Monday meeting. As I look around at all the other badass women coming into the room, the atmosphere feels powerful.
I find an empty seat, admiring the beautiful, super-comfortable white leather of the chair as I get settled in. Then Anne Lockwood enters, and the buzzing of light chatter stops. Like I said, Anne’s a powerhouse.
“Good morning, ladies,” she greets. She gets started, speaking about the new properties coming up for sale, and the other agents give quick updates about projects they landed last week or sales that went through.
Everyone is completely updated on everything around here. I love the collegial atmosphere.
“And lastly, I’d like to welcome our newest addition, Chelsea Tanner, to the team,” Anne finishes, and everyone claps. “Chelsea, would you like to say a few words?”
“I…” Anne throws me an encouraging smile. “I just want to say…” I’m not ready to be put on the spot. I know these women, and they’ve all been super supportive so far, but I’m really not the speech-giving kind.
“Lockwood Real Estate already feels like home. Chicago already feels like home. I really hope I can prove myself worthy of the welcome you’ve all given me,” I say.
Everyone claps again, and then one of the realtors—I think her name is Rochelle—shouts, “Enough of the warm fuzzies. Let’s all go make some money!”
”Amen to that!” says Anne. She calls the meeting adjourned and beckons me to come join her in her office.
Sitting down in her large, immaculately decorated office, I feel almost small. I’m good at what I do, and I absolutely love it. But back in Miami, I worked for my father’s firm, where I was one of four employees in a cozy little office.
We did good and managed plenty of clients, both big and small, but it was still a little different.
”Sorry if I put you on the spot back there,” says Anne, relaxing back into her chair. “I’m glad you said you feel at home here, though. That’s exactly what I want for you.”
I smile at her. “I plan to be your best employee.”
“Great,” Anne says, smiling back. “So, I know you haven’t built a property portfolio here yet, and I thought I’d help you get started in a big way.
“There’s a new developer we want to sign. A family operation, Oberlin Enterprises. They’ve built half the skyline in Manhattan, and now the son has come to Chicago to develop a few new skyscrapers, both commercial and residential.
“I’d like you to meet with him. If you’re able to sign Oberlin as a client, that will make you a reputation in this town from day one.”
I blink at her, stunned. “Are you sure you want me to do it?”
“Absolutely. You’re new in town, Alec Oberlin is new in town, and he’s about your age too. I’ve looked at the portfolio of the projects you managed in Miami, and I really believe you’re the best fit for this job, Chelsea.”
“Thank you, Ms. Lockwood,” I gush. “I’m honored.”
“Please,” she says, “call me Anne. I’ll email you with Alec’s contact information so you can set up a meeting as soon as possible.”
Back at my desk, I rush to open Anne’s email and dial the number for Alec Oberlin, Senior Vice President of Oberlin Enterprises. He picks up on the third ring.
“Alec Oberlin.” His voice is smooth and sexy, with just a hint of roughness to it.
“Hello, Mr. Oberlin, my name is Chelsea Tanner. I work for Lockwood Real Estate.”
“Good morning, Ms. Tanner. How can I help you?” Something about the timbre of his voice is really turning me on; it’s a little distracting, but I’m a woman with a mission, so I take a deep breath and dive in.
“Ms. Lockwood told me you’re developing some new properties here in Chicago. I’d like to schedule a meeting with you, to discuss the possibility of us handling the sales.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I’m afraid I’ve already lost him. Surely he has a million demands on his time right after getting to the city.
“Well, Ms. Tanner,” he says, “I’m intrigued. How about we meet for lunch today? I’m at the Marriott; meet me at the Florentine at noon.”
Yes! “I’ll see you then,” I answer, and he hangs up.
I glance at my watch; 11 a.m. I open Google, planning on some quick research before I have to leave for lunch. But when I find Alec Oberlin’s picture on the company site, I have to pause to pick my jaw up off the floor.
In the picture, Alec is smirking at the camera like he knows exactly how sexy he looks. He looks tall, extremely well-dressed, with dark, neatly styled hair and a clean-shaven jaw.
His features look like they’ve been chiseled by a god. How am I supposed to survive lunch with this blindingly attractive man, let alone work with him long-term?
A Google image search shows him on the cover of plenty of magazines. He’s always elegantly styled and put together, wearing obviously expensive clothes. But in almost every picture, he has a different girl on his arm.
So, Alec is a playboy. That makes things a little easier for me. I have no desire to be just another notch on someone’s belt.
I spend the rest of my hour researching Oberlin Enterprises properties and what kind of work they usually do. I also look at some spaces that could be suitable for the new project and pull together a short presentation.
I really, really want to land this project. If I do, I’ll have a massive portfolio right from the get-go, and build my reputation with Anne and the girls as well.
As I pack up for lunch, I firmly tell myself that the butterflies in my stomach are just nerves. That’s all. Nerves about the sales pitch I’m about to land.
Nothing at all to do with Alec Oberlin’s sexy voice, the way those expensive suits hang off his broad shoulders, his model-perfect face, or the fact that I’ll soon be seeing it all in person.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I can do this! Right?
