Free Trivial Pursuits (Chicago On Ice Book 2) by Aven Ellis Page A

George begins barking.
    “Oh, Princey, stop,” Alessandra coos. “MAGDA!” she bellows at the top of her lungs. So loud that Prince George whimpers. “Sorry, puppy. We have to get Magda in here right away. MAAAGGGGGDAAA! NOW!”
    I swear if I weren’t working out of my parents’ basement and living at home needing this job, and if Collins wasn’t a dear friend, I’d run for the door right now.
    The housekeeper who let us in a few minutes earlier hurries into the room. “Yes, Ms. Alessandra?”
    “It took you long enough, where were you?”
    “Pressing Master George’s shirts,” she says swiftly. “What may I do for you, ma’am?”
    Pressing the dog’s shirts?
    “Please play with him while I plan this party,” Alessandra says, sticking the dog out for Magda to take. “You know I’m a stickler for people doing their jobs correctly. It requires my absolute full attention,” she declares, giving me and Collins the side-eye.
    Now I want to pull a Landon move and crash this arrogant, rude, fashion-blogging heiress into the boards.
    It would be worth a trip to the penalty box, I muse.
    “Yes, Ms. Alessandra,” Magda says, sweeping Prince George out of her hands.
    As soon as she disappears, Alessandra rolls her eyes. “Sorry. She’s old, and she doesn’t hear me when I call for her. It’s tiresome. So let me explain, very clearly, how I want this party to happen. You will need to rent a ballroom. At a luxury hotel. I want—”
    I use all my focusing skills to keep my mouth from falling open. Alessandra goes on to list her requirements, all of them ridiculous. A ballroom? DJ? Custom invitations, flowers, photographer, videographer. A cake that is edible for both humans and Prince George. Oh, and a doggie treats bar, a custom chef-prepared dinner for the birthday boy and elaborate buffet for the adults, which should be fifty people, because this is an “intimate” affair.
    I swear my entire future wedding will be less expensive than Prince George’s “intimate affair” first birthday party.
    She finally stops and takes a breath. “Did you get all that, Collins?”
    “Absolutely,” Collins says in a cheerful voice.
    “Good. I hate repeating myself,” Alessandra says, tossing her silky black locks over her shoulder. Then her gaze shifts to me. “Now, the jewelry. First, are you sure you aren’t an amateur? You’re really young. I don’t want the pieces to look like shit.”
    Of course I’m an amateur. I plan to use a children’s loom and make rubber bracelets for you, but don’t worry, they’ll match your outfit, so all is going to be FAB, Alessandra!
    I hold that response inside and smile at her. “First, I assure you, I’m a strong designer. I have regular clients who return to me for custom pieces.”
    “Yes, but do they have taste?”
    Arrrrrrrrrgh, I want to tell her to screw off.
    “Yes,” I say calmly. “My portfolio is available online if you would like to review it.”
    Alessandra appears bored by the idea. “We’ll start with the idea. For the women, I want silver custom charms commemorating the occasion. They will need to be in the shape of a dog bone, with engraving. I assume you can engrave, right?”
    “Yes,” I say, smiling my plastered on fake smile.
    “Well, I need those, and then silver bone cufflinks with the same engraving for the male guests. And a commemorative tag for Princey Georgie to wear on his Louis Vuitton collar.”
    I’m taking notes as she speaks. “I’ll come up with some concepts for your approval next week.”
    “Oh, send them to Collins,” Alessandra says. “I have a zillion emails about the blog to wade through a day, so simplification is best.”
    I can tell I’m going to get no further input from her on the design. She’s one of those clients. They want you to make it happen with no information, and when you get it wrong, you’re the idiot.
    Alessandra stands up. “This is enough for now.”
    I glance at Collins. What? We’ve