Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Elizabeth
Monday Morning.
Kerry puts her head around the corner of my door. “Can we go through your schedule for the next few weeks?”
I hit send on my email. “Yeah.” I keep typing. “Can we do it a bit later? I’m swamped.”
“Okay, but I need to book your accommodation for Paris today because everything is booking out.”
I glance up from my computer. “I’m not going to Paris, remember?”
“Um…yes you are.”
“Not possible.”
“Too late, I already accepted the invitation.”
I breathe out, exasperated. I love Kerry, she’s the best PA in the world, but damn it she oversteps sometimes.
“Kerry, don’t play with me, I’m way too busy.” I sigh as I keep typing.
“We need the Reynolds account,” she snaps. “We’re not going to make budget without it.”
“I know.”
“And we want our staff bonuses this year. We’re making budget if it kills me.”
“And it might.” I roll my eyes. “I am not going to the conference in Paris and watching my dickhead ex-husband parade around his new wife while competing with him for the Reynolds account. I would rather eat shit.”
Kerry plops into the chair at my desk, “You know…this little poor me act is getting a little tired.”
I roll my eyes. Here we go.
“I’m not giving poor me vibes.”
“Want a bet?”
I keep typing.
“When you and Graham split the company in two after you divorced, our aim was to take him down. You have always been the brains of the operation, show him how hard we can fuck him and his business up.”
“I know.”
“We are the only two forerunners in the Reynolds account, we can win it. But not if you don’t even go to the conference.”
My heart sinks. “I just don’t think I can go and watch him and Melody….” I shrug.
“Melody is a child who is going to realize that her new husband is a dumb sleazebag.”
“She’s thirty, she’s not a child.”
“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes. “Women don’t even grow their second brain until they hit thirty-five. In five years she’s kicking his ass to the curb and leaving him. And you know where we are going to be?”
“Where?” I sigh.
“Without the Reynolds account because our spineless CEO let her ex-husband win at business too.”
I sit back in my chair. “You’re right, I know you’re right. I really just….” I shrug, disappointed in myself. “The thought of going to that conference that close to Christmas and having to mix with him and all our work associates when he’s there with his new wife is just….”
“Embarrassing?”
“Well just five years ago we were at the same conferences as husband and wife and working together on the same business. Now we’re divorced and own two companies who are in direct competition against each other and he’s got a perky young little replacement for me.”
“So, take a date.”
“Ha,” I explode. “And who would that be?” I scoff. “I hate men, I hate dicks and I especially hate egotistical fuckwits, which coincidentally is the entire dating pool for women my age. So, unless you can organize Santa Claus to be my date I’m not going.”
“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
Friday.
Knock, knock, sounds at my office door and I glance up to see Kerry.
“What’s up?”
She comes in and closes the door behind her and I frown. “Why are you closing the door?”
“Tell me you love me.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Why do I love you?”
“So…Paris.”
“Ugh, can we not talk about that dumpster fire, please.”
“I have organized a….” Her voice trails off as she searches for the right wording. “Chaperone for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“His name is Thomas Stone.”
“Who is that?”
“He’s a doctor.”
“A what, what?” I frown. I’m so confused. “What are you talking about?”
“So, my cousin Marcy is friends with his friend’s wife.”
“Who’s his friend?”
“Cameron Stanton is his friend and his wife, Ashley, is one of Marcy’s best friends.”
I roll my eyes at the million explanations. “Not hard to keep up at all.”
“Anyway…there’s this doctor from LA who….” She wobbles her head around as she tries to word it right. “Helps out professional women like you for weekends just like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“So, apparently he did it once as a favor for someone and he was so good at it and enjoyed it so much that he now does it full-time.”
“Does what?” I stare at her, still confused. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“He’s an expert in this field.”
“What field?”
“The escort field.”
“The what field?” I gasp, horrified. “Are you on crack?”
“It would work.”
“I’m not taking a sleazebag escort with an STD to a conference as important as this.” I drag my hand down my face. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“You’re not going to go at all?”
“Not going is better than this option.”
“And he’s not an escort that sleeps with women, he’s not that kind of escort.”
“Oh please,” I scoff. “He’d be banging like a barn door.”
“He’s a professional well-educated man who would escort you to all of the social things and pretend to other people that you are together and then at the end of the night, he goes back to his room. No sex involved, it’s a business transaction…and a pricey one at that.”
“How much does he cost?”
“Fifty thousand dollars for a weekend.”
“What?” I explode. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“He keeps his prices high because he only caters for a certain level of professional business women. He doesn’t want to waste his time on lower paying jobs.”
“Well…we are not paying for any kind of….” I widen my eyes. “Expert.”
“So, you have to apply for his company through his manager,” she continues.
I roll my eyes. “Does he think he’s Fabio or something? For fifty thousand dollars he should take what he’s fucking given. No dick is that good.”
“He accepted our job so I paid fifty percent this morning,” she blurts out in a rush.
“What?” I explode.
“You gave me management of the accounts.”
“To spend wisely.”
“This is an investment,” she fires back. “It’s tax deductible because he has a legitimate consulting business he works out of.”
“What does he consult on…?” I gasp. “Vagina waxing?”
“Probably…who cares anyway? Listen here, you are going to suck it up and go to this thing with Thomas Stone and play nice and wow the conference with your sparkle and bring home the fucking Reynolds account.”
I stare at her; my mind is officially blown.
She opens a manila folder and passes me a photo. “This is him.”
I stare at the photo for a beat and frown. The man is wearing a black dinner suit and smiling. He has dark wavy hair and big dimples on a square jaw, he looks very distinguished and cultured, my eyebrows rise by themselves. “He’s ….”
“Gorgeous.” Kerry smiles. “And if all you achieve by doing this is to make Graham realize that he made the biggest mistake of his life by cheating on you…then I’m happy.”
My eyes linger on the photo.
“Fuck Graham. Don’t let him win,” Kerry whispers. “Nobody will ever know and if this helps us get what we need…then why not? We both know that Graham would do anything in his power to get that account…stop being the nice guy and do the same. Fuck Graham and Melody, wipe their faces in it.”
She does have a point.
“Success is the best revenge.”
My eyes rise to meet hers. “No sex?”
“None.”
“Separate rooms?”
“Uh-huh, his only prerequisite is that you privately meet the day before to set out a game plan and strategize. He doesn’t want this to fuck up either, he’s a professional and wants it to stay that way.”
“It’s tax deductible?”
“He’s an expert.” She widens her eyes. “And you could sure use some expertise.”
I smirk. “I’m going to kill you, you know that, right?”
“Absolutely.”
Three Months Later.
The cab pulls into the hotel in Paris and I want to crawl into the trunk and never come out.
What in god’s name was I ever thinking agreeing to this?
I’m here to meet Thomas Stone ahead of the Christmas work conference that starts tomorrow. Who goes to a conference two weeks before Christmas? This is just stupid.
He wants to strategize…strategize what?
Help!
I’m shaved, primped and primed and to be honest I think I’m more nervous to meet Thomas than I am to go to this stupid conference alone.
My car door opens and the doorman smiles at me “Bonjour.”
“Bonjour,” I timidly reply as I climb out of the car.
“Your bags will be taken into reception for you.”
“Merci.”
Thump.
Thump.
Thump goes my heart.
I take a deep steadying breath. It’s fine…
this is all going to be fine, I try to tell myself, but I’m quite positive that it won’t, someone is going to realize this is all fake and it’s going to blow up and come out that I had to hire a date and then I’m going to have to move to Mars to escape the retribution of embarrassment.
I walk into the foyer and without looking around I walk straight to the desk; a man is in front of me checking in so I have to wait.
I know Thomas is here somewhere and I really, really don’t want to see him.
Fuck this ridiculous plan, I’m calling it off.
I text Kerry.
Cancel Thomas Stone.
I’m not doing this.
I wait for her reply….
Fuck, where is she? I text again.
Are you there?
Cancel!
This is an emergency.
I begin to sweat.
Oh my god, she’s asleep or reading her stupid book or something and isn’t going to get the message and then the whole conference is going to find out I had to hire a date and my life will be officially over.
I dial her number. Ring, ring…ring, ring…ring, ring….
Please pick up.
“Elizabeth….”
I turn to see a tall man in a suit. He has dark hair, a chiseled jaw and big blue eyes. “Hello, I’m Thomas Stone.” He gives me a big breathtaking smile as his aftershave enslaves my senses…good fucking god.
What is happening right now?
“Hi,” I squeak.
“Nice to meet you,” he says as he shakes my hand.
“Hi,” I reply.
You already said that, you fool.
He smiles and gives me a playful wink…he knows he just fried my brain.
Help!
“Next,” the person at the reception desk calls.
I step forward and Thomas stands behind me.
“Hello, I would like to check in please?” I whisper. “The name is Elizabeth Burchmore.”