Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
HUDSON
“ M om, listen to me,” I say to my mother over the phone, trying to avoid sounding angry or offensive. “I’ll be ready when I’m ready. Your constant nagging won’t change anything.”
She still tries to get a word in, but I interrupt her immediately.
“Mom?” I groan again, this time more adamant, and I can hear the sigh of exasperation from across the phone, but I don’t care. I don’t have the time to pamper her now. Aliya’s called in sick again. It's the second time this month, and I’ve made a pointless call to the At Your Service Agency, but I know they won’t have anyone for me. They’ve been unable to provide me with an assistant the last two times I called for one. I need to find a new agency. And maybe a new assistant.
But I can’t dismiss Aliya. She’s been a great help to me. More importantly, she’s able to handle me while keeping somewhat of a cool head.
After finishing the call with my mother and promising to be home for dinner after returning from Manhattan, I returned to work. Aliya would have helped with this if she were here. I need to find out some information about Frank Dubois, the man I’m to broker a billion-dollar deal with. I need to connect with Frank on some personal level, and I have never been one to get that personal with people.
“You can just take the easy route out and marry his daughter,” I think out loud and crease my brow in frustration.
Yes, that won’t be hard at all. Phillipa, Frank’s youngest and favorite daughter, has an enormous crush on me. I could use that as leverage to tie Frank down. He would be more inclined to do business with his daughter’s husband. But I don’t like Phillipa. She is a sweet girl, pretty, will make a good wife and definitely make my mother happy. But she doesn’t stir anything in me. She awakes no passion and ignites no lust. Marrying her would be subjecting me to years of torture I wouldn’t be able to endure, and I would have to break up with her eventually. That, in the long run, will disrupt the business I have with Frank, so Phillipa was a no-go area.
I sigh in frustration and almost pick up my phone to call the At Your Service Agency. I need to know if they’ll be sending someone over or if I was on my own this entire trip. Before I reach for the phone, I get an email from them. Someone is coming over.
Good, I sigh and look over at the paperwork they’ll do for me.
Before they arrive, I make a couple of phone calls to confirm flight details to Manhattan. My pilot, Reece, who has been with my family for more than two decades, confirms that the jet has been fueled and that he’s ready to leave whenever I’m ready.
At least that’s someone who remains reliable always.
I have made many deals and led my family’s company, which was close to ruin, back to becoming a force to reckon with, yet nothing has made me as tense as this meeting with Frank Dubois. The failure or success of that meeting will determine the trajectory of my company for the next couple of years. I need this to go right!
Frank is a very private man; his deals never make headlines, but they rock the financial world. No one knows what he’s up to at any point in time, but everyone is always weary about his decisions. Tracking him down is almost impossible. If that were possible, I would have put some people on him to follow him to see what he does and the people he interacts with. But I’m not the only one who wants to put some men on Frank. He was as protected as the President of the United States. I’m still looking for information on Frank on the internet when the knock comes on my door. I know it’s the assistant from At Your Service Agency.
“Come in,” I say,
The door opens, and in comes a lady. She’s wearing a light blue dress that hugs her body and highlights her hourglass figure. Her petite body immediately catches my attention but it's nothing I haven’t seen before.
“Hello, I’m Juliette,” she introduces herself. “I’m to be your substitute assistant for as long as you need me.” She stretches her hand for a handshake, but I ignore it. Yet, the smile doesn’t leave her face. I can’t tell if it’s perfunctory or genuine, but I suspect someone like her has no reason to have a perfunctory smile. The smile looks so natural and sweet on her. She’s a happy soul, and I can glimpse it already. And her eyes also. Her eyes are a striking shade of blue, reminiscent of the deep ocean and the vast sky. Standing there before my desk, the light from the window striking her face makes those eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint.
All of that doesn’t help me, though. Will she be diligent, and will her input come in handy when I deal with Frank Dubois in Manhattan?
“Sit Juliette,” I say to her. She sits with a nod and watches me, waiting for me to introduce myself, no doubt. That won’t happen until I read the brochure that At Your Service Agency would have sent to me, highlighting her personality and what to expect of her. I had gotten carried away by Frank Dubois and forgot to read it, as I usually do when they send me a temporary assistant.
While she sits just a couple of inches away from me, her legs crossed so that her dress hikes up a couple of inches, revealing the soft and milky flesh of her thighs; I read through her file.
She’s new. This is her first job. That’s not good. But then, it explains why she must have been willing to come to work with me. For me. The file says she is hardworking and always committed to whatever task is assigned to her. We’ll see about that.
I read through her profile, and at the end of it, there is a bit that I don’t find in other profiles. She says her motto is “If life gives you a lemon, make lemonade.” Is she here to make lemonade of me?
The brochure provides some information about her, including that she has an acting degree. What good is that?
She seems nice, not my kind of woman, that is for sure. I prefer my women to be quiet, submissive, adept at giving me pleasure and gone the next day, never for me to see them again. Looking up from my MacBook, I find her still watching me, studying.
She’s been informed about me, I can tell. Well, she is about to discover everything she’s been warned about.
“Come with me,” I say and stand up, leading her to one of the cabinets in the office. There are files for her to peruse before we leave for Manhattan to bring her up to speed about my dealings with Frank Dubois. There are also some files in there looking into Frank Dubois's personal life, the little information I can gather. I’ll ask her to go through that and see if she’s smart enough to give a fresh perspective. That will determine her usefulness. Let’s see that commitment her files talked about.
She walks with me to the cabinet, and I remove the file and place it on a table nearby.
A degree in acting? Why can’t I get that out of my mind?
“What do you need me to do?” she asks, and I watch her lips move as she speaks. The way her lips shimmer makes me hard.
She’s not my type, I remind myself. And she’s here for work.
“You’ll go through these files,’ I tell her. “There is information on the man I plan on doing business within Manhattan. He’s a mogul and it is imperative I strike a deal with him. I want you to familiarize yourself with him as we’ll be spending a lot of our time in Manhattan around him.”
“Okay,” she says, opening the files. “Frank Dubois.”
“Do you know him?”
“Never heard of him,” she tells me.
It’s just as I expected.
“That’s okay. You’ll have to know enough about him before our plane takes off in three hours.”
“Shouldn’t we be on our way to the airport then?” Juliette asks, looking rather concerned.
“Why should we? We can make it to the airport in thirty minutes.”
“What if we get delayed at check-in?”
“Delayed at check-in?” now I ask, confused. I immediately understand where the confusion stems from. She thinks we’re taking a public aircraft. “We’re flying on my jet,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she catches on quickly and nods. “I didn’t know you were rich rich.”
“Well, now you know.”
She looks like she will get snarky with me, but then she changes her mind. I can tell she’s going to be trouble. But trouble I can tolerate if she’ll make herself useful. I’m about to explain to her the other assignment I have for her when an idea crosses my mind. I let it out before I can dwell too much on it and conclude it is a bad idea.
I pull the files away from her.
A degree in acting? There is a way to put her skills to use.
“What did you do that for?”
“How good are your acting skills?” I ask her.
“What?” she says, confused.
“Can you act? Put up a charade?”
“I guess…I can,” she says, her confusion persists.
“I have a proposition for you,” I tell her, walking back to the table to sit on the edge. She stands back and eyes me suspiciously. “It’s not that,” I dismiss her worry. “You’re safe with me. Don’t worry about that.”
“Well, I don’t think—” she starts. I can see that she is preparing to argue. I don’t really care to engage in that.
“No need to buttress whatever point you want to. I just need you to listen.”
It takes a few seconds for her to process my reply but eventually she does and snaps her mouth shut.
“So, what do you want me to do?” she asks. “What’s this proposition?”
“This man I want to make a deal with, Frank Dubois. He has a daughter, Phillipa. She fancies me.”
“Oh, okay,” she says, “You need my help on how to handle that?”
I don’t miss the snarkiness in her answer but again I have no intention or desire to engage. At my silence she obviously gets the message though and keeps her mouth shut. I continue.
“As I was saying, Phillipa fancies me, but there can never be anything between the two of us. You see, she’s not my type. She looks just like you.”
“So… I’m not your type?” she asks.
I nod, and she chuckles.
“So, tell her you don’t like her.”
“I can’t do that. It’ll hurt her or whatever, and Frank is rather protective of her.”
“You don’t want the girl. You also don’t want to offend the father.”
“Yes,” I tell her. “And you, you’re unknown within my circle.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I want you to pretend to be my fiancée for the period we’ll be in Manhattan.”
“So, you really do want sexual favors from me,” she snorts.
“No. Nothing of the sort. It’s all going to be pretend,” I tell her.
“Pretend, huh,” she says, moving closer to me until she is just an inch away and I can look right into her eyes. They stun me. What is she doing? “Do you know what it is like to be a fiancé?”
“Of course,” I hiss.
“Really?” she scoffs. “You know what it’s like to love?”
“This isn’t about love. It’s about acting out.”
“You can’t act something you are clueless about,” she says. “Have you ever loved someone before?”
“What does this have to do with anything? We’ll pretend to be lovers. It is as simple as that. I can pretend to be your lover.”
“How will you do that?”
“Excuse me?”
“How will you pretend to be my lover? I can look at you with longing,” she says, and right before me, her expression turns to lustful longing. I see her eyes go watery, and her lips quiver. They tempt me, and I want to bite down on them. “You can’t look at me like that, can you? You said it yourself. I’m not your type.”
She is so straightforward, bold, and unlike any woman I have ever dealt with.
“You don’t have to be my type for me to pretend to want you,” I tell her. I lift her chin up and look into those dreamy eyes; I let my thumb pull down her lower lips, so her mouth opens slightly, looking to welcome my lips. I move closer to her so there is barely any space between us, and I can smell her. Her hair smelled of daffodils and sunshine, her neck of passion fruits. And her lips. Maybe I’ll have just a taste. I let my lips brush against hers and then pull back. “How’s that for pretense?” I ask.
She smiles. “Not bad. But I won’t be complicit in your deceit.”
“I’ll pay you,” I tell her.
“And that solves the problem, doesn’t it?”
“Ten thousand dollars every day until the contract with AYSA expires, which, give or take, I think will last for seven days.”
Seventy thousand dollars. That gives her a pause. She needs the money. I can see her running some calculations in her head. Her mind warps and warps, and she says nothing.
“If you’ll do it, we’ll have to get you a total wardrobe revamp. If you’re with me, there’s a way you must dress. You get to keep everything you buy.”
Everything?” She asks, her resolve breaking.
I nod.
“It’s not really deceit, you know. You’re just helping me out here and helping Phillipa not get her heart broken. I want this contract, and I’ll do anything to get it. You really aren’t losing here, you know.”
She’s going to do it. I can tell because she isn’t protesting against it. I just have to push her a little bit more and I know just how to do that. “Or are you scared?”
“Of what?”
“That you’ll fall in love with me?” I ask her. “Do you think you’ll fall in love with me in seven days?”
She chuckles. “Or maybe I’ll be your type in seven days.”
“We both know that won’t happen,” I tell her.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” she says after a while.
“You know, sometimes, we’ll have to kiss to keep up the charade, though; I want to get that out there before we make any conclusions.”
“Yes, it has to look real, doesn’t it?”
“Good.”
I return to my seat. “I’ll get an NDA prepared for you to sign and I’ll put all of what we’ve discussed here in a contract. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?” I ask.
“No, I’m fine with it. It’s good to set boundaries now. My responsibilities do not go beyond being a pretend fiancée and whatever else At Your Service Agency’s contract binds me to help you with. Besides that, nothing else.”
“Yes. And when all this is over, we’ll go our separate ways, never to speak again.”
“I like the sound of that.”
This should work, I hope.
“There’s something I have for you, something to make all this look more genuine,” I tell her and ask her to wait in the office for me. I walk into the inner office and return with a diamond ring. She gasps at the sight of it.
“How do you have that handy?” she asks, running her fingers over the diamond ring.
“It was a backup plan if everything else fails. I have a feeling Frank will be more inclined to work with me if I can provide myself as a husband to his daughter. It will make him feel his investment is more secure.”
“You really do consider everything, don’t you?” she says.
Should I take that as a compliment?
“I didn’t get this rich without being meticulous.”
“Are you always this boastful?” she asks me, her face telling me she’s pulled back the compliment she just gave me.
“You don’t like it? Why? Does it make you feel self-conscious about your position?”
“No, it just comes off wrong,” she says while rolling her eyes.
“You’ve known me for just thirty minutes, and I am sure you already made your judgement of me.”
She shrugs. “Some people are open books.”
“Quite presumptuous, don’t you think?”
“You got presumptuous when you assumed your boastfulness makes me self-conscious.”
“You complained about it,”
“I mentioned it. You assume it affected me. Nothing you do affects me. I’m just here to do my job to the best of my ability."
I frown, wondering if this is all a mistake. I’ve never had someone talk to me without fear as she does and truthful, while it irks a part of me, it makes her interesting. She’s someone I can have a real conversation with. Someone that wouldn’t suck up to me in hopes they don’t offend me.
“I think this is going to be fun.”
“What is?” she asks.
“Our ruse. I think I’ll have a swell time messing around with you, But I must tell you, I am a man with voracious needs. While we are in Manhattan, I must have sex.”
She looks at me, flabbergasted. And disgusted. Yes, there is disgust on her face. Does she think I’ll go seven days without having sex? I can as well drop dead.
“Not with you, of course,” I add, and she relaxes.
“Of course. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“I’m not asking permission from you. I’m just informing you.”
“It’s all pretend isn’t it? Nothing matters. Like you said, it isn’t like we can fall in love in seven days.”