“I’m Olivia Bridge.” I didn’t bother shaking his hand. Hopefully the name rang a bell.
I straightened my spine, though I couldn’t compete with the height of the broad-shouldered man in front of me. From the neck up, he was fashion catalogue material. Chiseled cheekbones and a strong jaw, dirty-blond hair that fell haphazardly across his forehead, and full, refined lips.
But this guy was a construction worker. Not my type. At all. His plain white T-shirt hinted at the muscular body beneath the cotton. His blue jeans fit well, snug around his thighs and bulging where his hands filled his pockets and in one more noticeable place. I averted my eyes quickly, noting the white dust that marked the denim at the knees.
I silently reproached myself for checking him out. He obviously had no class since his gaze hadn’t left my breasts in the span of ten seconds.
I cleared my throat, regaining his attention. “This is my project. I worked on this design.”
His unaffected expression seemed to reinforce my anger with every passing second.
I rolled my eyes with a sigh. “Maybe you’re not the one to talk to. Who’s in charge here?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and his careful stare shifted to the older gentleman. “Tom, you want to deal with this?” He gestured along the length of me, as if I were the problem that needed to be dealt with. “I’m going to check out the progress upstairs.”
“Sure thing.” Tom rubbed his forehead as he guided me away. “So this is the wall you’re talking about?”
“Yes, this was meant to be glass. All the way across. We want people to walk in and see the facility and everything we offer, not drywall. You need to take these studs out immediately.”
“Okay.” He frowned. “There must have been a change in the plans.”
I lifted my brows. “You have a blueprint. Why would you change the plans?”
“This is a structural wall here, so I’m guessing instead of putting in reinforcements, Will modified the plans.”
“Why would he do that?”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Well, it’s a lot cheaper, for one.”
I frowned. “I don’t care how much it costs.” My voice went up an octave. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”
He sighed. “I guess I’ll have to run it by Will.”
“Who’s Will? I thought you were the boss.”
He laughed and rubbed his forehead again. “No, I’m just the GC. Will Donovan’s the boss. You just met him. He owns the building, so whatever he says goes.”
“Oh.”
Shit. The man I’d mistaken for an exceptionally good-looking laborer was Will Donovan, the investor and real estate developer whom my brothers spoke of frequently. I’d never met him, but I knew enough about him to know I’d probably pissed him off. Too bad for him. I wasn’t going to stop until I got my way.
I put my hand on my hip and took a quick scan around the empty shell of a room. I should let this go, but I couldn’t. Cameron and Darren—all of us—had worked too hard to start cutting corners now. “I guess you’d better reintroduce me to Will.”
“This way,” he said with a grimace before leading me through a long unfinished hallway and upstairs to the second floor.
Will was leaning over a kitchen island, looking at blueprints that nearly covered the whole surface. He straightened when we entered. A quick glance passed between him and Tom, and I couldn’t tell if Will was amused or on edge. His height and the confidence in his stride as he approached gave me pause though.
“Miss Bridge. You’re back.”
“I am,” I said simply, curbing my tone now that I knew whom I was talking to.
He nodded toward Tom. “You can get back to work. I’ll take care of this.” He glanced back to me. “What can I do for you?”
“Tom explained the structural situation, but I’m concerned because this is not the design that we approved.”
“Cameron has given me creative control.” He crossed his arms, and the motion showcased his firm muscled arms. A mild distraction as I processed those last words.
“He has.” A statement. More like a statement filled with disbelief. Cameron couldn’t have done that. “I don’t understand.”
“Part of my investment is in the build-out. If I need to make adjustments to keep us on budget, I will.”
“You’re compromising our design and our brand. How do you expect us to pay you back when you’re ruining our design?”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic over a wall, Miss Bridge.”
I glanced around the open floor plan and quickly moved past him. I stopped when I stood under a wide arch that provided an opulent threshold between the kitchen and the living room of what I assumed would ultimately be a luxury condominium.
I turned toward him and pointed to the arch. “Was this a structural wall?”
“Yes.”
“And I take it you were able to resolve that?”
The corner of his lips lifted a fraction. “Obviously.”
“To preserve the view?” I lifted my brow in challenge.