CHAPTER 5
Tuesday morning at ten, Scott Landshire rapped his knuckles against the polished mahogany door of Frankie Peterson’s office. He had been summoned with an urgency that left little room for delay.
“Come in,” Frankie’s voice sounded from within.
Scott pushed open the door and stepped inside, a prepared remark about Frankie’s latest mandate hanging on his lips. But the sight that greeted him halted his words mid-sentence. Frankie wasn’t alone. The office, usually a sanctuary of high fashion and higher stakes, had an unexpected guest.
“Have a seat,” Frankie’s voice was sharp as she gestured toward a chair opposite her desk.
The woman sitting in the other chair across from Frankie’s sleek, glass-topped desk stood and turned to face him. Doc. The very person who had become a constant prickling presence in his thoughts since her show had aired yesterday morning.
Her presence in Frankie’s office was as surprising as it was intriguing.
“We meet at last,” Doc said, her voice a smooth blend of professionalism and subtle challenge. She extended her slim hand. “I’m Dr. Luxury Stone.”
Scott, recovering from his initial shock, stepped forward and took her hand. “Scott Landshire.”
“Enough with the niceties,” Frankie interjected briskly. “Sit already.”
As they both took their seats, Scott assessed Doc.
Her confident posture was a sharp contrast to her dowdy appearance, a mismatch in the stylish and extravagant office where framed covers of the magazine’s impactful fashion legacy covered the walls.
Frankie cleared her throat, drawing his gaze to his boss. She’d leaned back in her chair, the corners of her mouth twitching with a hint of mean amusement. “Scott, Dr. Stone came to me yesterday with a proposition to avoid our suing her employer for the harm she’s done to your brand.”
Scott raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “And what might that be? An admission of guilt followed by a heartfelt apology?” He laced his tone with a mix of sarcasm and genuine curiosity.
Frankie shook her head, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “Nothing so mundane. She proposes a challenge—to win your heart in ten days using the very methods you’ve advocated.”
Scott almost laughed, mistaking the moment for a joke, but he stopped short. Frankie never joked around. Revenge, on the other hand…
He glanced at his nemesis. “That’s quite the pitch. Very clever.” The fact it was to happen in ten days meant someone had clued her in to Frankie’s fondness for that movie. “Unfortunately, your pitch has a major flaw.”
“And that is?” Frankie asked, her eyes gleaming.
“For my methods to work, there must be an initial spark between the two players.” He glanced at Doc. “Do you feel a spark?”
“Everything about Your Royal Rakeness makes me spark,” she replied immediately. “And I was under the impression I did the same for you, since you whined to your boss that I’d hurt your feelings and embarrassed you.”
Scott narrowed his eyes at her accusation. “I most certainly did not complain—”
“Sparks. Excellent,” Frankie interjected, clapping her hands in satisfaction. “We have the starting point for this to work.”
Scott shifted his focus back to Frankie. “I must be frank and say there are no sparks. Not the right kind, anyway. What you’re suggesting is equivalent to asking me to fall in love with a rock.”
Frankie’s lips tightened. “In that case, the challenge will be that she shall win the heart of a rake. Any rake. Does that work for you, Scott?”
Her easy capitulation worried him. She had an ace stashed away somewhere. He could only assume it was tucked away to help him win. Not that he would stand back and allow her to cheat on his behalf. “Do you have additional guidelines for us to follow?”
“Of course I do. First, the challenge will be titled: How to Win A Rake in Eight Days.”
“Eight?” Scott said. “Why not ten?”
“Not that I owe you an explanation,” Frankie replied coldly, “but because ‘a Rake in Eight’ has a nice ring to it. Now, if you’re done interrupting, I’ll continue. Dr. Stone will employ a series of techniques you’ve discussed over the past year. At the end of eight days, I expect a rake to be head over heels for her.”
Head over heels was not necessarily love. “She can’t successfully use my techniques without prior coaching,” Scott said. “I suggest a month of coaching, followed by eight days of her executing them on a rake.”
“I’ve read your column. Any monkey can execute them with very little guidance.” No hint of a smile appeared on Frankie’s lips to soften the coldness of her statement. “A month is absolutely out.”
“I can assure you my methods may sound simple in theory.” Scott struggled to keep anger out of his voice. “In practice, they take work.”
“Are you implying Dr. Stone isn’t intelligent enough to pull them off?” Frankie asked.
“Asshole,” Doc said under her breath, but not so quiet he couldn’t hear.
“Capturing the heart of a rake is nothing like capturing the heart of the everyday Joe.” He spoke directly to Doc. “The rakes of Manhattan are sophisticated and are intrigued by cosmopolitan women. An amateur will never win their heart.”
“That sounds like a you problem, Scott,” Frankie said. “Figure it out. You’ve got eight days.”
“And if I fail?” he asked, his jaw clenched.
Frankie’s expression turned calculating. “I trust that won’t happen.”
“But if it does,” he persisted.
She narrowed her eyes. “Then we will cease to publish RAKEish, and you’re out of a job.”
Of all the things for Frankie to threaten, that was the worst. “And if I succeed?” While his mother was an American, she’d never filled out the paperwork with the US Embassy for an official birth certificate. His father refused to give him any of the necessary papers so he could resolve the issue. Which meant his stay in the States hinged on his work visa, a precarious thread that now seemed more fragile than ever. He could not return home…not yet, anyway. “What happens if I succeed in teaching Doc how to win the affection of a rake?”
“For starters, Dr. Stone will leave her current position at Columbia and cease to broadcast Monday Musings.” The coldness in Frankie’s tone told him that was her real end game. A win she was gambling his future over.
“What is to prevent the doc from purposely sucking at everything I teach her?”
Frankie tapped her long red fingernail against her desk. “I will have spies watching your every date. Any indication she isn’t trying, and the whole thing will be called off and the lawsuit will move forward.”
Doc cleared her throat. “Being spied on wasn’t part of my proposal. I have no desire—”
“Your desires ceased to matter when you viciously attacked the character of our star columnist,” Frankie said. “And viciously attacked his manhood.”
Doc stiffened. “Has anyone ever told you your manners are atrocious?”
“Not and lived to see another paycheck.” Frankie smiled triumphantly. “Now, Scott, if there is nothing further you must leave, Luxury and I have an appointment with Ziggy and Isabella for her makeover.”
“Already?” Doc asked. “Can’t that wait until after Scott has taught me his methods?”
“I’m running a fashion magazine. I can’t have my star columnist seen about town with a frump. It will taint his image.”
“But—”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Dr. Stone. When I agreed to your idea, it was with my own agenda in mind. Which means we will execute your plan under my guidelines. You asked for ten days, I gave you eight. Today, by the way, is day two. I will send you and Scott the schedule for your upcoming sessions. The first four days, you will be taught one of his principles of my choosing. The remaining you will use to reel in either him or another rake.”
“My calendar—” Doc said.
“Clear your calendar or go back to your employer and tell them the pending lawsuit is now an actual lawsuit. Your choice.”
Scott stood and faced Doc. She really had nice cheekbones. “It is sure to be an interesting week. May the best man or woman win.”
“There’s one more thing, Scott,” Frankie said, forcing his attention to her.
“I’m listening,” Scott said.
“We’re in the business of selling magazines. I need this arrangement to go viral. I don’t care how you make it known, but I want it known before the end of the day that your online battle with Dr. Stone will be resolved in person. Understood?”
Before either he or Doc could reply, there was a knock at her door and in swept Ziggy and Isabella.
“You summoned us, Oh Great One,” Isabella said, eyebrows lifted.
Scott grinned at Isabella’s impudence. He really would like to learn the story between her and Frankie.
Frankie ignored Isabella and glowered at Scott. “Remember, failure will result in dire consequences.”
“Failure is not in my vocabulary,” he replied before turning his attention on Doc.
“Mine either,” she said, scowling.
He tipped his head toward her. “I look forward to our enchanting time together.”
Lux’s brow wrinkled. “I cannot imagine any time spent in your company will fall under the term enchanting.”
He chuckled. “Until we meet again.”
“Ooh. This sounds fabulously intriguing,” Isabella cooed. “I hope someone is going to tell me what it is we’ve just walked in on.”
“You’ll have to take that up with the boss,” he said, before strolling out of the room.
How in the hell had his life gotten even more complicated? Wasn’t it bad enough to have to flee his country just to maintain the right to refuse an arranged marriage?