The Contract

"Mrs. Ferrari!" one of the attendants called out. I turned around to see her holding up the blue linen.

"Yes, that one," I confirmed with a quick nod. "Now prep it for the work," I ordered before striding into the adjacent office without waiting for a response.

Bethany and Kourtney looked up as I entered.

"We're just about done with the guest list," Bethany said quickly, as though trying to preempt a lecture.

"Good." I dropped a stack of documents on the table. "Proofread that."

Before they could respond, my phone rang, cutting through the tension.

"Pearl," Kourtney said, standing up to walk toward me as I answered the call. The voice on the other end started speaking, but Kourtney held out the papers she was working on, silently pointing out an issue.

"What do you mean you lost the designs?" I exclaimed into the phone, my voice sharp. Without thinking, I spun toward the door, Kourtney trailing behind me.

"I chose your team for a reason. What is all this incompetence?" I snapped as I stormed into my office.

My chair screeched against the floor as I dropped into it, already frustrated. Kourtney hovered by the desk, papers in hand, waiting for me to wrap up the call.

"Get the work done fast. The wedding is next Wednesday," I said, voice clipped, before hanging up. Tossing my phone onto the desk, I finally looked up at Kourtney.

"Here." She placed the papers in front of me with a calm but firm demeanor.

"We've got a problem with the seating arrangement," she announced, her tone laced with the kind of trouble I didn't want to deal with.

"What kind of problem?" I asked, though I could already feel my patience thinning.

"Hazel's grandmother will be coming, but there's no extra seat at the table," she explained.

"I thought she canceled."

"She changed her mind," Kourtney replied simply.

"Then make a way!" I gestured emphatically.

"The table will feel crowded. Hazel's mother is bringing her boyfriend too," she added, her tone diplomatic yet unyielding.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Left to me, we wouldn't have sent him an invite, but since we don't have a choice, make a way. Please, make a way."

Kourtney chuckled softly, her professional mask slipping just enough to reveal her amusement. "Of course. We'll kick Maxwell's drunk of an uncle out."

A grin tugged at the corner of my lips. "Perfect."

"Don't you have a flight to catch?" she reminded me, glancing meaningfully at the clock on the wall.

My eyes followed hers, and my stomach sank. It was already past 6 PM.

"Shit, my flight is in less than an hour!" I cursed, leaping to my feet and frantically grabbing my coat.

"It's a vacation, remember," Kourtney teased, trailing after me with an amused smile.

"Well, you both better get all this work done while I'm gone," I said as I buttoned my coat. "I don't know how long I'll be away, but I'll be back before Maxwell's wedding."

"Did you pack your bags?" Kourtney asked knowingly.

"Of course," I replied with mock indignation, though my tone gave me away.

Her raised eyebrow and smirk said it all. "Sure you did."

I rolled my eyes, giving her a quick grin before bolting out the door.