by Avery Aster
“Do you remember when I started at the agency?”
“Vaguely,” Taddy joked.
“You mentioned your fondness for red? You said you’re as intense as the color.” Kiki rolled up her window. “You said red helps people to make snap decisions, and embodies strength and power.”
“I remember.” She’d lived by red.
“As we’ve worked together this year, I can say those descriptions suit you.” She gave Taddy an admiring stare, one Taddy never witnessed from any employee.
“Your words mean a lot to me. Thank you.”
“Do you know what else comes to mind when I think about you and the color red?” Kiki’s eyes filled with tears.
She pulled the rental up at the drop-off spot, threw the transmission into park, and pressed on the brake. “No, what?”
“Your passion for life, the confidence you have within you to move forward, and the love you give to others, and deserve, but never expect in return.” Kiki grabbed the doorknob.
I love you, Kiki. Thank you for saying this to me. It means more than you know. Taddy’s throat tightened, hot tears streaming down her face. Quickly, she wiped them away.
If Kiki noticed, she didn’t say anything. “I hope you give someone a chance someday. Dejon even said you were quite the catch.”
She laughed. “Tell Dejon thank you.” Reaching for Kiki’s shoulder, she confirmed, “I’ll see you back in Manhattan in one week.”
“Only if we don’t talk about Cannes or your porn collection ever again.” Kiki wiped her eyes dry.
“Darling, it’s a deal.” Taddy hugged her. “Give your parents my best.”
“Will do.”
“One question: did you see Manuel Coq de la Grande in action?” Taddy wanted to lighten the mood before she left.
“Uh-huh.”
“Tell me everything!” The way Manuel would manhandle his ladies with all that deep penetration, smacking, choking, and hard-core fucking, she’d surmised the women didn’t act. They orgasmed for real, and in multiples.
“I took photos. I’ll e-mail them to you. I may sell them on eBought.” She held out her tablet computer from her purse and showed a few photos. “You’re worried I won’t be back.”
“True.”
“You have my word. In a week, I’ll be ready to rule the media world with you.” Kiki pulled her duffle bag from the backseat.
“Thank you for the reassurance. Bye, darling.” Taddy waited until Kiki stepped into the terminal before starting her drive back into town. She thought about her assistant and how much she’d grown over the last year and how happy she was for finding Dejon. It was possible flying four thousand miles to meet a guy wasn’t so bad, minus a night in jail.
Kiki’s words replayed in her head. “The love you give to others, and deserve, but never expect in return.” After years of being labeled a ruthless bitch by her staff, Taddy found significance in her assistant’s understanding of how much she cared. It may have taken a decade with thirty or forty associates, but finally one of them noticed. If she could just do it for her personal life, she’d be set.
Warner came to mind, sending a quiver through her body. As much as she tried to push him from her thoughts, he didn’t go away.
Once on the main road, she reached for her cell. Noon in Cannes meant sunrise in Manhattan. Taddy texted Lex, “Awake?”
Her cell rang in response. Smiling, she answered, “Morning, Lex.”
“Hey, stranger. You’re up early,” Lex greeted her and sounded as if she was already hours into her day. “Wasup?”
“Glad I caught you. I’m in Cannes for work and wanted to hear your voice.” She accelerated, taking a free lane.
“Aw, how sweet. I miss you, too.” From behind Lex’s voice, Taddy thought she heard a snipping noise.
“Where are you?”
“At Easton’s showroom.”
“It’s Sunday…”
“I’m cutting fabric.”
“Why?”
“To get my collection finished.”
“How’s it coming?”
“I’m running low. I worked ‘til about midnight yesterday, and came back in at five this morning.” Snip, snip, snip.
“You sound tired.”
“Thank God for Vitamin B shots, huh?” Lex laughed, but Taddy could hear the exhaustion in her voice.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest. Take the morning off and—” She cut herself short as the spa suggestions rose to her lips. It reminded her of Kiki’s persistence for a work-life balance. It had annoyed her when she’d heard it, so she understood Lex’s position. “Get some rest.”
“Wishful thinking, I don’t have time. Barneys’ orders are keeping me on my toes. I need to send samples to the factory today. Next is Saks Fifth Avenue.”
“How’s Birdie?”
“Mom talked to your aunt Muffie at the Colony Club…they lunched. And Mom showed your aunt the Today’s Business article you’re in.”
“Why is Birdie carrying that article around?”
“You’re on the cover.”
“So?”
“She’s proud of you. We’ll talk when you get home.” Lex’s voice came across as if she had an agenda.
“Not sure I like the sound of this…”
Lex laughed. “Call me when you get home and we’ll talk. No sense in worrying you.” The snipping sounds increased. “Crap, I’m cutting the wrong end. I should get back to finishing my work. I need both hands.”
“I love you, Lex.”
The phone clicked. Lex didn’t hear her.
She held the phone in her hand for a few seconds then turned it off. She wondered if Lex felt as miserable as she sounded with her workload. Lex wouldn’t complain or let on if she was. And what did her aunt want?
What are you up to, Auntie Muffie?
Sweet Baby Jesus on an Ice Cream Cone
Taddy hadn’t lied to Warner at the police station earlier when commenting on Hôtel de France’s press. It was massive. Massively bad! If Truman Enterprises had been a client, sure enough they’d be fired now. On the flight over to Cannes, she’d witnessed the media shit storm coming down the pipeline on Air France’s in-flight TV monitors. Passengers on board had joked. The middle-aged man, reeking of cigar smoke, who’d sat next to her had commented, “Man…I bet if I stayed at that hotel, my sex life would be amazing.”
“Disgusting,” snorted the woman who’d sat to her right.
A flight attendant had asked over the loudspeakers if anyone planned on staying at Hôtel de France. The passengers had laughed. As she’d sunk down in her seat, Taddy knew she’d have to barter her publicity genius and branding expertise to spring Kiki from jail. It was all her fault.
Hôtel de France was familiar to her. She’d stayed there for many Cannes Film Festivals prior. Her idea to transform the property into the sexiest local on the French Riviera had come easy to her. By six in the evening, she’d printed out the following morning’s strategy for Warner to review and dropped the folder off at his room. A maid who wouldn’t let her past the VIP area had said, “Monsieur Truman is out for a walk on the beach. I’ll be sure he receives your package.”
Due to Cannes’ popularity and the hotels being sold out, Taddy didn’t have any choice except to stay at Hôtel de France. Warner gave her the executive suite that had been used by Kip Van Scott. She’d returned to her room for a short nap and then dressed for dinner. Was she nervous? Yes.
They’d agreed to meet at eight o’clock.
She stepped off the elevator wearing a strapless coral metallic jacquard Stella McCartney cocktail dress. Easy to spot, the acclaimed Bernard Guillaume restaurant took up Hôtel de France’s second floor. Taddy mentioned her name to the hostess and was escorted to a private area in the back.
“You look better each time I see you.” Warner stood at the white linen table. Dressed in a light gray suit, he had his hair slicked back with a part to the right side. He appeared freshly shaven.
“Thank you. You, too.” Taddy gave him a hug, wrapping her hands around his V-shaped back and torso as far as she could reach. She initially intended to kiss him on the cheek and a tap to his shoulder, but his arms came wide and took her in close.
Warner picked her a smidge off her feet as he squeezed. You’re strong. He pressed into her as she felt his muscles. You’re hard. His erection grazed her, as well. You’re hung.
After she’d caught her breath, he pulled the chair out for her to sit down. He scooted her in with one swift swoop, and she giggled. Warner sat across from her. “Bernard Guillaume, our head chef, prepared a few house specials.” The table setting was intimate, as she’d hoped. The sun had bronzed Warner’s cheeks and forehead, making his teeth white when he spoke.
“I’ve read about Bernard’s dishes for years. His TV show is quite entertaining. I’m looking forward to this.” Suddenly, she felt Warner’s long legs shifting to find their place under the table. His knees rested against hers. The delicious pressure assured her that he was there and had no intention of leaving.
“Did Kiki get off to the airport okay?” He lifted a champagne bottle from the silver bucket and nodded for permission to pour. It was Dom Perignon Rosé.
Taddy handed him her glass. “Yes, she did, thank you. Kiki has texted a few times, reminding me to extend her gratitude to you for dropping the charges.” She tapped her flute against his and nodded.
“Cheers!” He waited for her to take a sip. “Your assistant is a little firecracker.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I can see why you’re passionate about her.” He studied her as she drank her champagne before taking his own sip.
“I’m passionate about the people I care about.” She set her glass down, intending to pace herself. A lightweight, she couldn’t embarrass herself. Taddy didn’t have the same tolerance for alcohol as Vive.
“I hope you don’t mind, but after getting reacquainted today at the police station, I looked Brill, Inc. up online.” He put his hand on her thigh under the table in a possessive gesture. “Brill, Inc. is quite the agency. You must be proud.”
“Thank you, I am.” His grip felt strong. Tempted to squirm, she kept her legs still. She imagined his fingers inching their way up her legs, spreading them apart, as his tongue lapped circles around her clit. Snap out of it, Taddy. “I’m indeed proud of my work.” Taking a sip of water, she wondered at what cost. Did Warner make similar sacrifices to get his company off and running as she did? “As I’m sure you are with Truman Enterprises.”
“Very much so.” His fingers glided along her hemline, causing her to shudder with excitement. “How do you manage Brill’s success and have a personal life?”
“I don’t.” She laughed over that daunting question.
The server came around with a yellow wax bean salad. Again, Warner waited for her to take the first bite. “Good?” he asked with a smile on his lips.
God, he’s sexy! She wanted to jump across the table and kiss him. But Taddy didn’t.
Covering her mouth, she bit down on a bean with a crunch and swallowed. “Great.” Taddy dabbed the napkin around her lips and stated, “I’ve read about Truman Enterprises, but can’t say I’ve heard much on your private life.”
“I grew up in Newport, where my parents still live. I have one brother who’s a year younger—”
“Lucky you, I always wanted to be a big sister. What’s his name?”
“Sheldon. He’s thirty-two going on sixteen and is…a handful.” He sipped his water, perhaps questioning if he should share more. “I have an apartment in Paris and spend time in New York.”
“Manhattan?”
“Yes.”
“Why haven’t I ever seen you out and about?”
“I’m in Tribeca. You?”
“Aaah…you’re a downtown man. That explains it. I live on the Upper East Side. Most of my friends do.”
He winked, as if to say, ‘Of course you do, Taddy Brill.’ “Single?”
“Huh?”
“Are you dating anyone?” Warner clarified.
“All these questions. You should meet my friend Vive. She’s a journalist and is always asking a lot about everything.”
“Are you passing me off on your friend Vive already?”
“God, no!” She felt her skin getting hot. “I’m flattered you asked. I’m not exclusive with anyone at the moment.” Taddy hoped he’d buy that vague answer, because she sure as hell couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone on a real date. Sitting across from her butler at the dining room table after he’d made dinner didn’t really count as a date.
“So then, we’re both single.”
“I’m surprised you’re not married. With your fortunes, women must fall at your feet.”
“My wife passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She’d never met a widower as young as Warner before.
“Thank you.”
“How long were you together?”
“About ten years. Jacqueline was my first.”
“Oh, you’re first love?”
“Yes, and the first woman I ever made love to.”
“That’s really beautiful, Warner.” Taddy thought his late wife must’ve been a remarkable woman. “I know how it feels to have someone taken away from you, especially when they’re all you’ve ever really known.” Taddy could tell by the look on his face he was a private person. When he did share something about himself, he probably regretted his transparency. With no desire to pry, she added, “You never get over the pain, but you find ways to move forward. Truman Enterprises must keep you busy.”
He frowned. “Perhaps…” Warner sipped his water then said, “I turned my grief into a charity in my late wife’s name.”
“That’s commendable. I host an annual fundraising ball ever year for various programs in need.”
“Yes, I read about them online. They look like a lot of fun.”
She thought it was odd she’d never read about him in the papers. “You don’t do any personality profiles on yourself or the charity?”
“I don’t grant media interviews. I was raised to work hard but not crave the spotlight,” he answered matter-of-factly, not hiding anything. “In addition to reading up on your business, I also did some research on your personal life.”
“Really?” Her voice broke. Please don’t tell me you caught my online video riding a horse at my Arabian Nights Party—naked.
“You’re quite the socialite, and a Brillford to boot. Your family is powerful in New York. I can see why you holiday under such an alias as Red.” His smile broadened in approval. Perhaps he wasn’t threatened. Most men ran for the door.
Throughout history, the Brillfords had risen as a significant royal house in Europe. Renowned in the late 1700s for their work in math and science, Taddy couldn’t recall the name of the exact patent her great-grandfather owned, but remembered whatever it was remained important. Just not to her.
“My family came from Austria and later Germany. Around the mid-1800s is when they arrived in the US.”
“You have a prominent name in American society. Why don’t you use Brillford?”
“Brill is what I’ve gone by since I emancipated.”
Eyes wide, Warner asked, “How old were you when you did that?”
“Sixteen.” It was during her junior year at Avon Porter. “My friend Vive talked me into it. It’s a long story.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know.” His face turned bright red.
“The courts found it in my best interest to separate from my parents. And so did I.”
“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t intend to—”
“It’s okay. Feels like it was another lifetime ago, ya know? I don’t think about it much.”
“Because you don’t want to?”
“It’s too painful for me, Warner. I try to get on with my life. I’m grateful for what I have now.” Taddy didn’t want to talk about her
self any longer. “You must feel the same way. Yes?”
“I have days where I’m still angry that she’s gone. Then…I have days where I’m not as angry as I am sad. But I’ll see her again, one day.”
Taddy was going to cry. His love had gone and her parents were still there, on this Earth, living in the same city as she was. She doubted she’d ever get to speak to her parents again. “Your ability to speak about your past is admirable.” She forced a smile, hoping to set his mind at ease. “Maybe someday you can teach me how to talk about mine without fire coming from my mouth.”
She twisted her napkin under the table to release the frustration swelling in her throat. “I’m happy to discuss my PR firm.” Warner smiled for her to continue. “I started my agency while attending Columbia University with my childhood friend Blake Morgan. He’s my family. I’m fortunate to have my friends in the city, who are my chosen relatives. If that makes any sense.”
“Sure it does. Friends can be better than siblings at times.” Warner reassured her that she could share whatever she was comfortable with. “If you stay the week with me, here in Cannes, I’ll tell you more about my family.”
THE WEEK?
Hoping to change the topic, she pulled out her laptop and brought up the PowerPoint on Hôtel de France. “We should start on the press conference preparations.”
“What are you doing?” He shook his head in a dismissive gesture.
“Going over your strategy before the champagne goes to my head.” She forced a smile, hoping he’d make this as easy as possible. “I have your speaking points written down for the press.” She handed him the cards, which were indexed into a neat stack. “They are labeled with immediate and direct response questions.”
Without looking at the notes, he took them from her and set them on the table. “I read over what you dropped off earlier.” He spoke with a tone filled with respect. “Your top-line ideas are great. Thank you for such creativity.”
“My pleasure.”
“You have the go-ahead from me and my executives to move forward in the morning.”
