Chapter 1
Richard
“Have you ever been obsessed?”
I let the words escape my lips as I studied Margot. Squinting against the unforgiving brightness of the midday sun, she struggled to maintain her composure.
Swiftly, I reached for a remote control. The views from my new uptown Dallas office were stunning—well worth the millions-a-year payment.
With a single press of a button, the stellar views were muted. Transparent screens quietly descended. The sunlight diffused to a gentle glow while retaining a hint of the breathtaking cityscape beyond.
Margot eased back and released a relaxed breath. I could see the wheels turning behind her bright eyes as she pondered my question.
Obsessed.
I couldn’t resist lobbing such a pointed question at her, and not just for shock value. I was exposing a secret, and there was no use in denying it. Trust me, I’ve tried.
Underwhelmed, Margot’s gaze met mine. “Players like you don’t get obsessed. You get fleeting infatuations until the next new set of bouncy breasts catches your eye.”
Margot always had a way of cutting to the chase like a sword through cake. That prowess demanded respect.
With a nonchalant grin, I took the jab in stride. Of course, my reputation preceded me. I worked damned hard for it.
But winning Margot’s approval wasn’t my goal. Getting her on board with my audacious plan was. Hell, this little scheme danced at the edges of sanity, and for it to work, Margot had to be in.
Facts. Numbers.
All business. No bullshit.
Here we go.
I took a seat on the black tufted leather sofa across from her—a cozy distance despite the expanse of my fortieth-floor office. A low glass table kept the distance between us, with two chilled Voss waters waiting an arm’s length away on granite coasters.
The waters weren’t just there because of the sweltering Texas heat outside. I knew the drill.
Margot demanded complete sobriety during any negotiation, and this wasn’t exactly a social call. For business meetings, she preferred Voss to Perrier, still to sparkling, and not a snack in sight. Easy enough, as demands go.
Her golden hair was perfectly layered in an expensive cut, and her custom blush suit contoured her svelte body and contemplative expression. She was a woman of the world, equal parts sophistication and shrewdness.
I let her sit there, thinking. No doubt about it, her razor-sharp mind analyzed me. Each word. Every move.
And I knew exactly why.
Jumping on this crazy train would take a wish and a prayer, and a whole fuck-ton of cash. And crazy wasn’t even the half of it.
Illegal?
Hmm. Definitely not.
Well, maybe.
Okay, probably.
I grabbed the water and drank. Is it hot in here?
I mean, I tried staying a good ten feet from anything that was blatantly against the law, but everything about this plan screamed Orange is the New Black.
Or, at the very least, a big, fat, fucking lawsuit. And if the media caught wind of it? Fuck . . . I’d be assuming the position and kissing my own ass goodbye. Ass and assets.
Promptly, I shoved all those pesky little risks from my mind and kept my eyes on the prize. “It’s not fleeting,” I blurted out. “And Jaclyn Long isn’t remotely close to a flash in the pan. Any day now, she’ll take over Long Multinational Systems, and we both know if that happens, it’s game over.”
I could see the So? scrolling across her forehead.
“Margot,” I said, softly shaking my head. “This plan is foolproof. And it’s my last chance.”
When Margot’s gaze remained unimpressed, I switched gears. Bring out the big guns.
Honesty.
I cleared my throat. “I’m used to women looking at me a certain way,” I started.
“Like a gift-wrapped lottery ticket they want to tear open with their teeth. Half the time, I’m their sugar daddy, and the other half, a baby daddy.
But when Jaclyn looks at me, it’s different . . .” My words trailed off.
“Different?” she asked in candid disbelief.
I shrugged. “Like I wasn’t worth her time.”
Surprised, Margot’s brow lifted.
I set the water down and straightened my tie. “Well, now, she’s definitely worth mine. Here.” I opened the folder on the coffee table between us and handed her a few documents. “I’m ready to hit her with all I’ve got. But for this to work, she can’t see me coming.”
Margot skimmed the pages, her smile spreading as she flipped page after page.
Hands clasped, I kept going. “You’ve known me a long time, Margot. If I’m in it, I’m in it to win it. But I need an advantage. You’re one of the few people who live in her inner circle.”
“Lived,” she said, quickly correcting me as she returned to her reading. “It’s been a while,” she admitted, her stoic expression firmly in place.
Her practiced poker face made it impossible to get the slightest hint of where she stood. But she was listening, and my instincts kicked in.
When all else fails, hit the schmooze button.
I leaned in. “You know Jaclyn better than anyone. Maybe better than she knows herself.” Her lips pursed. I was getting to her. “Margot, I need you.”
A smile broke through. “Most men who say that to me are on their knees.”
I bet they are. Most men are scared shitless of Margot and what I imagine to be her treasure trove of chains and whips. “Margot,”—I steepled my fingers her way—“this is my only shot. And this plan only works with you on my side.”
Margot looked up for a second, studying my face. With a long exhale, she tossed the pages to the table and crossed her legs. Her arm casually stretched along the low back of the couch. “And what exactly is that shot worth to you, Richard?”
Well, that was fast. I figured she’d want a detailed play-by-play. And no lie, I might have had a whiteboard ready. But, nope. Margot was ready to decide if she was all in or cutting bait and running.
And, lucky for me, it all comes down to price.
Her casual yawn telegraphed that she knew my position as well as I did. I didn’t have shit for leverage, so why pretend?
Resting my elbows on my knees, I handed over my balls on a silver platter. “How about we cut to the chase? Name your price.”
She smiled, and I have to admit, I might’ve gulped. Any hope for a fair and reasonable negotiation was killed like a spider beneath her Jimmy Choos.
“Whether you pull this off or not,” she said brazenly, “I get 5 percent.”
“Five percent of what?”
“Your company.”
Is she shitting me right now? Margot’s hardball game wasn’t just in a league all its own. Apparently, she’d invented the fucker.
I opened my mouth, ready to counter.
Her elegant hand lifted in a slow, subtle gesture. “That’s nonnegotiable,” she said. “And I’ll need to see it in writing. Today.”
I pinched the tension in my neck and squeezed out my agreement. “My lawyers will get it done.”
“I’ll also need five million up front.”
“For flogging equipment?” I scoffed.
“As a gesture of good faith. Deposited to one of my offshore accounts. Nonrefundable. And my attorneys will draw up the paperwork. I can’t be implicated if anything goes awry with this foolproof plan of yours. Because what could possibly go wrong, right?”
Her sarcasm was cutting. She reached for a bottle, handing it to me to unscrew for her. And like a whipped puppy, I did.
Delicately, she sipped, letting me mull it over.
I pulled in a breath. “How about—”
“Nonnegotiable,” she repeated. “I’m not the one who’s obsessed.”
Her eyes sparkled with the triumph of a woman who’d slain a dragon and sliced off his manhood.
Margot didn’t wait for a reply. “Good. Then it’s settled.” She stood, straightening her suit before rubbing both hands together. “Then, there’s the issue of your appearance.”
What? Heated, I jumped to my feet. “Hang on. A ten-thousand-dollar suit isn’t good enough for Your Highness?”
Giggling, she shook her head. “Oh, it’s perfect for me, but I’m not the one you have to impress.
” She swept a hand across my suit. “Her Highness will see you coming from a mile away—and run. Your appearance is pure E. coli to her, Richard. Guys like you swarm her in droves. Hot. Charming. Sexy, with a naughty side that keeps girls coming back for more.”
I gave her a not-so-modest smirk.
“Absolutely worthless,” Margot said sharply, quashing my smile. “Straight off the playboy cookie-cutter assembly line. And trust me, guys like you have burned her a few times too many. Less is more, Richard. Less is more.”
Damn her. Margot was enjoying this a bit too much.
Staunchly, I crossed my arms across my chest, barely wrinkling the custom-tailored superfine wool. Deep breath in. “Okay. We can work on wardrobe. What else?”
She set down her water and moved closer. Like, really, really close. “Hmm.” She scanned my face. “I’m not partial to facial hair for this little caper.”
Urgently, my hand flew to my scruff. I rubbed it protectively. The nerve of her. “It’s my trademark,” I said, helplessly.
“Exactly.” Her smile turned positively evil. “You’re the one who said, ‘She can’t see me coming.’”
Defeated, I rubbed my chin. “I guess it’ll grow back.” Then with both hands against the line of my jaw, I gripped.
Quizzically, she cocked her head. “What are you doing?”
“Just capturing the memory,” I said sentimentally.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Like an hour after you shave it, with your stratospheric levels of testosterone.”
I chuckled. She’s not lying. Pocketing my hands, I asked, “What else?”
She tapped her chin, studying me. “I definitely see you as a blond.”
Oh, it’s like that, is it? Tall, dark, handsome me stripped down to a squeaky-clean choirboy? I hated everything about it.
And in a bizarre twist, I loved it all the same. It had the markings of both genius and madness, which was exactly why Margot’s help was priceless.
Jaclyn Long won’t know what hit her because she’d never see me coming. Literally.
I blew out one long breath. “My stylist will have a field day.”
“Try to get it as close to my color as possible. Honey blonde. So people mistake us for siblings.” Margot ran her fingers through my hair, uncharacteristically playful as she deliberately mussed up every last perfectly gelled wave.
Scowling, I pulled away and stood tall, quickly smoothing back my prized mane. In three steps, I crossed the room and picked up two boxes from his desk. Returning, I handed her one.
Wide-eyed, Margot smiled. “I do love gifts.” She popped open the box and pulled out a metal card with the QR code cut through it.
“Scan that. It will load an encrypted app to your phone. It works like FaceTime. In one click, you’ll be communicating with me through these.”
I opened the other box. The pair of titanium-framed glasses fit like a glove as I slid them on.
She nodded in approval. “Oh, I do like those. They make you look even less like yourself.”
I frowned. “Nice. And I love how looking less like myself somehow became the goal. I’ve spent the better part of a decade honing my image. I wanted to seize the day in style.”
“And I wanted to be tag-teamed by the Hemsworth brothers, but we can’t always get what we want.” She straightened my tie. “And one last thing, Richard.” She bit her lower lip, biting back her cheer. “No lies.”
Confused, I cocked my head. It’s like she missed the entire conversation. “So, let me get this straight, Margot. I can have a fucking metamorphosis, but lying is off the table?”
Her lips twitched with the smallest of smirks. “Every sport has rules, and you can only take this game so far. You’re looking at the finish line. I’m looking a year beyond it.”
I flapped my hands in the air. “I can’t even tell her my name, Margot.”
“Agreed. Your name will be a mystery, and your makeover will be epic, but that’s it. No lies. Nothing that can ever be used against you later . . .” She trailed off, and we both knew how that statement ended: in a court of law.
Margot shrugged and kept going. “Besides, lies are too hard to keep up with. Nine times out of ten, they’ll bite you in that Adonis ass of yours. So, you’ll look and act the part of an altar boy, and that devil inside you will swear to tell the truth.”
I wrinkled my brow. “The truth?”
“The truth,” she said again. “Maybe not the whole truth, Richard, but the truth nonetheless.”
I nodded helplessly. “The truth it is.”
She extended her elegant hand. “Deal?”
Careful with my grip, I shook her hand. “Deal. To the future, Margot.”
“The future.”