“You name is on here. I guess you can go in.”
“Thank you,” she said curtly as he gestured toward the entrance. She had only entered high society for a few brief seconds and already she was being hassled.
Once inside, she marveled at the opulent ballroom with its high, golden ceiling and crystal chandeliers. As she walked through the room, she received dirty looks from the men and women in their formal attire. Angela clearly did not belong and it made the attendees uneasy to see a commoner burst their social bubble.
As she made her way through the crowd to find Clive, she heard the clinking of a knife against a champagne glass. The chandeliers dimmed for a moment before returning to their full luminosity.
Clive took the stage, looking dapper in a black tuxedo. He walked around with so much confidence—he was clearly at home in front of a crowd of New York’s rich and famous.
As the crowd moved toward the stage, Angela moved back. She wanted to see other people’s reactions to his words more than she wanted to see Clive.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” he said as he looked around the room. “As many of you know, my passion in life is to ensure that everyone is capable of receiving proper healthcare. My company takes pride in creating the best medications for those who need it to survive. As one of the top pharmaceutical corporations in the world, we are a leader in medical research and discovery.”
Angela rolled her eyes. She doubted that Clive knew anything about medicine. He had a degree in business management and finance. He just hired the people who did the groundbreaking research.
“Because of the nature of the work we do, we find it imperative that those who need medical care have it available to them. That’s why, with your support tonight, we’ll be able to build new free clinics for those who cannot afford the luxury of good care. Your contributions will make our city just a little better and brighter.”
Angela looked around the crowd. Everyone was nodding and smiling. They really believed that by paying way too much money for champagne and finger foods, they were changing the world. When it was all done, they’d just go back to their mansions where they could ignore the fact that so many people in the city were in poverty.
“Tonight, I call upon my friends to help me to do what is good and necessary. We can change the world bit by bit if we all commit to doing what’s right. Thank you again for coming here tonight to show your support for a cause that is important to me and to your community.”
The crowd erupted into applause. Angela couldn’t believe that these people bought into his crap. Clive was such a phony she could hardly stand it. He smiled grandly as he took in all the crowd’s admiration. It looked as though he threw these events not to support a good cause, but to have a reason for people to admire him. He wasn’t the one who did the work to secure the venue, send out invitations, and hire caterers; he just showed up looking pretty when it was his time to speak and took all the credit for it.
Clive waved his hand to get the crowd to settle down. It hardly looked modest.
“Please eat and drink to your heart’s content. Have as many bacon-wrapped scallops as you can—my cholesterol lowering medication will give me a nice boost this quarter.”
The crowd laughed. Angela let out an annoyed sigh.
“Enjoy yourselves tonight. This event is my way to show my appreciation for your generosity.”
With that, he left the stage and the music started back up. After his speech about being a great person, Angela was ready to tear into him. How dare he stand there in his tuxedo and talk about poor people like he was their savior? She pushed past models and actors until she found him speaking with a man with salt and pepper hair.
“Excuse me, will you?” Clive said to the man when he spotted Angela. She was scowling at him.
“I’m glad you made it, but I’m a little confused as to why you aren’t wearing the dress I sent you. I picked it out myself.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. “You can’t just do whatever you want,” she said.
He tilted his head, and then put his hand between her shoulder blades, guiding her to a vacant sitting area. “Why don’t we go somewhere quieter so we can talk?”
On the way to their seats, he grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to Angela. She took it begrudgingly.
“Is something wrong?” he asked when they sat down.
“What are you referring to?” she asked coolly.
“Let’s start with the dress. I sent it to you because I didn’t want you to worry about the dress code. I thought it would make things easier on you. Plus, I knew that you’d look fantastic in it.”
“What is it that you want from me?” she asked.
“Just the five stories we agreed on. Your employer wants it too. Certainly, you do too, or else you wouldn’t be here.”
“It’s an expensive dress, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I suppose so, yes,” he said casually.
“Let’s say I did wear it tonight—what would I have owed you?”
“Nothing. If that’s all this is about, you have my number. You could have just called me.”
Angela wasn’t buying it. That’s why she paid for her own things when it came to men. She didn’t want them to ever give her a reason to expect a favor.
“Do you want to talk about this event?” he asked. “I’m sure your readers are interested in what goes on at one of these things.”
“Yeah, I’d like to talk about some of the comments you made in your speech.”
“Sure. Which part?”
“The part when you talked about doing the right thing. Do you actually think anyone would believe that crap?”
Clive raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“A lot of the readers are middle-class people. Are you trying to completely alienate most of the population? No one can relate to this gross display of wealth, besides you and your party guests.”
“Do I believe that I’m doing the right thing by donating money to a good cause? Of course, I do,” he responded.
“I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit,” she said.
“What?”
Angela’s mouth suddenly went dry so she took a large drink of the champagne. “I think you tell yourself that you’re a good person so you can sleep at night. I don’t think that your employees making minimum wage would say that. Do you realize that your own employees will probably become patients at this free clinic?”
He slightly shook his head. One of the men from the previous interview stormed over and muttered something in Clive’s ear.
“No, I don’t want to cancel it,” he said. “I can take care of myself, you know. I’ve managed to run the company for this long.”
Looking hurt, his staffer disappeared into the crowd.
“I’m aware that I might come off a certain way around reporters, but I think this has gone further than that. Is there something I’ve done to personally offend you, Angela?” he asked.
“I don’t even know anymore,” she huffed. “You’re the perfect embodiment of the rich socialite who has no connection to the real world. You’re all the same—you act like you care about everyone, yet you take in more money than you could possibly ever need and you look down on people like me.”
“Are you saying you hate rich people?”
“Well, yeah, I guess,” she sputtered.
“Have you ever considered the fact that it’s a little hypocritical to say that all wealthy people make a point to stomp on the middle class, while you’re telling me that you hate all rich people? So far, I have yet to make any generalizations about any social class. I’ve given you a chance, even though we come from different backgrounds. Why can’t you give me a chance? Your job is to get to know me, and I don’t think you’ve really tried.”
Angela looked at the floor. She felt silly for trying to right social wrongs by berating one billionaire. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right.
“Fine,” she c
onceded. “I apologize. I don’t want you to discontinue this series.”
“No hard feelings,” he said, extending his hand to her. She shook it and a slight smile appeared on her face. She still didn’t trust him, but she could respect the fact that she had been unfairly judgmental. If he was willing to give her a chance, she could do the same.
“Let me get you another drink,” he said as they got up from the couch. “Are there any questions you have for me?”
She thought for a moment. Everything she had written on her notepad was meant to tear him down. Now that she was past that, it didn’t seem appropriate. She would need a new angle.
“Do you think it’s okay if I talk to some of your guests?” she tried. If she got to know the people who knew Clive well, maybe she would get somewhere.
“Absolutely. Come with me and I’ll introduce you to some cool people.”
She allowed him to take her by the arm and lead her into the crowd. With another drink in her hand, Angela could almost forget that she was wearing jeans to a black-tie gala. As much as she didn’t care for Clive, he had a way of making people feel like they were important.
As he guided her from guest to guest, introducing her and inviting her to ask questions, she got the impression that he was well liked in his community. Even when he wasn’t standing by them, his guests spoke highly of him. They knew him as an intelligent, young businessman who was a bit of a prodigy. He graduated from Harvard Business School before the age of twenty-three and took over as CEO of his company by twenty-five. He was also born into wealth, so it wasn’t a tough corporate ladder to climb.
At the end of the night, Angela didn’t necessarily believe that Clive was trying to play her, but she also couldn’t say for certain that he wasn’t. He was turning out to be a tougher subject to crack than she initially thought.
She walked home that night, tipsy from the free champagne and excited to start her next installment in the story of the real Clive Davis.
Chapter 6
On Friday morning, Angela walked to the office with a little extra bounce in her step. She had stayed up late working on her second article and she couldn’t wait to finish it.
While some of the people she interviewed at the party were elitist snobs, a few were very kind to her and provided a lot of good information. One guest was an old friend of Clive’s father and shared stories about the younger Davis as a child. She giggled, trying to imagine Clive as a rambunctious child or an awkward preteen.
As unhappy as she was at the start of the charity gala, it was a great place to learn more about Clive. Plus, the fact that the group of public relations staff wasn’t hovering helped. Perhaps at the age of thirty, Clive was maturing. Angela felt lucky that she was given the job at this stage in his life and not before it.
While his friends spoke of his antics with the media and laughed, Angela couldn’t help but feel mortified for the poor reporters who were sent to get a few words out of him. One friend told her that he had once invited a reporter to his office to talk about changes in his company. When they arrived, he sat at his desk and faced the back of the room, never revealing his face to the reporter. Why? Just because he could.
After finishing her second article, Angela sent it to her editor for notes and sent Clive a quick message. The more she wrote, the more momentum she built and she wanted to keep things rolling. She learned about his business, his friends, and his personal philosophies—now she needed to know more personal information.
When are you free to talk next?
Tomorrow evening, he responded almost immediately. Does that work for you?
Yes. Where and when?
You choose. Perhaps somewhere we can go for dinner.
There’s this Japanese restaurant a few blocks away from my place that’s good. It’s called Daikoku. Does 7:00 work?
Perfect. I look forward to seeing you there.
The rest of Friday was spent researching things to ask Clive about. She wanted to learn more about his family. His father was a big deal back in his time. Angela had never really thought much about it before, but the Davis name was all over town, from hotels to hospital wings. He had a big hand in shaping what the city looked like today.
Mr. Davis had died some time back. Angela estimated that Clive was in his early years of his undergraduate program when his father passed. The other articles on Clive never mentioned his father. Maybe it just wasn’t something he cared to speak about.
Then there were the brothers. Daniel was the oldest and was often compared to their father in terms of success and family legacy. Clive was the wunderkind businessman who quickly rose to success. James was just a few years younger than Clive and was best known for his antics outside of the boardroom. He was a tabloid darling—always seen leaving with models and actresses or at the opening of a new nightclub. Then there was Matthew. The youngest son also worked with Clive but played in a rock band as well. By day, he was high society, but at night, he was just another New Yorker playing gigs around the city.
Maybe after she covered his family, she figured she could dig into a little more of his personal life. As much as she didn’t really care, she knew that her readers would be interested in what he did in his free time. Angela could talk to him about the people he liked to spend time with, the girls he dated, that sort of thing. She found a few pictures of him leaving restaurants with women, but she couldn’t identify a current girlfriend. Even though his life was so public, there were still things he kept secret.
As she made her way to the restaurant she picked out, she noticed her stomach buzzing with nerves. So far, each interview had been a strange encounter and she couldn’t predict what she was going to get herself into. Now, they were meeting on neutral territory and that freaked her out even more. What did he have planned? She prepared herself for something bizarre. He denied it, but Angela really did suspect that he found some pleasure in being a pain in the ass.
At the restaurant, she asked a waiter if a tall man with short, dark hair had arrived yet. The waiter nodded emphatically and took her back to a table set back in a little alcove. It made sense for someone moderately famous like Clive to choose that seat—it was private enough that no one would notice them unless they were actively looking.
“Hey,” she said as she slid into the booth opposite Clive. “When did you get here?”
“Just before you, apparently.” He was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him before in dark jeans and a button up shirt. He was ruggedly handsome when he dressed this way, as opposed to his typical clean cut work attire. Angela felt more at ease in her knee-length skirt and sweater. Finally, she wasn’t completely underdressed.
“Should we order first before we get started?” Angela suggested.
“Sure,” Clive responded. “What’s good here?”
“Everything,” she giggled, looking over a menu. “I can never decide.”
“Then why don’t we get a little of everything and share?” he asked.
“Fine by me,” she said.
When the waiter came over to take their order, Clive opened his mouth to speak but Angela interrupted him, listing off the foods she wanted to share.
“You’re a girl who knows what she wants, aren’t you?” he asked curiously.
“Is there any other way to be?” she responded, digging through her bag for her notepad and pen. “But this isn’t about me. I have a few things I thought we could discuss.”
Clive waved the waiter over. “Can you bring us two beers and keep them coming?” The waiter nodded and scurried off.
“Put the notebook away,” Clive said. “We don’t need to do that tonight. Let’s just talk like two normal people.”
“Like on a date?” Angela joked.
“Sure, if you want to think of it that way.”
“Wait,” she said. “Is this really a date?”
He chuckled. “Will you just relax, Angela? Call it whatever you want, but I’m not in the mood to be drilled with question
s. We can talk and if you choose to use bits and pieces in your article, that’s fine with me.”
“Aren’t you worried that you’ll say the wrong thing without your support staff telling you what to do?”
He nodded as he took a big gulp from his pint of beer. “You would be surprised how helpful it can be to have someone reminding you that you have a reputation to uphold. I started to bring one person with me after my PR team found an article where the reporter ripped me to shreds. I had to appease them somehow. Then, it just became a game. It was fun to get people rattled over something so insignificant.”
“You’re kind of an ass,” Angela stated after taking a drink.
“Why?” he laughed. “Were you rattled?”
“A bit,” she admitted. “I was mostly annoyed. I just want to do a good job on this story. It could change my whole career.”
“Is this your first story?” he asked.
“No, but it’s my first big story.”
“I’m sorry that this is considered a big story. Maybe I should take things a little more seriously,” he said.
“It’s my first story with a big newspaper,” she corrected herself. “If all goes well, I could become a full-time employee.”
“Is this what you went to school for?” he asked. “Have you always wanted to be a journalist?”
“Yeah, I graduated from Northwestern three years ago. I like to dig into stories that people haven’t uncovered yet.”
“You’re nosy,” he joked.
“I’m not afraid to admit it,” she replied. “So, how does it feel to be amongst the commoners tonight?”
“I don’t know why you think I’m some type of royalty. I run a big company and I make a lot of money doing it. I’m not some kind of prince or movie star. It’s not like anyone outside of this city or my industry knew who I was. I grew up here—these are my people.”
“I thought you grew up in Vermont?” she asked.
“I went to boarding school in Vermont. My parents had a small house in the area so they had somewhere to stay when they visited the four of us at school. I see you’ve been doing your research.”
One Night With The Tycoon (Billionaire's One Night #1) Page 4
