by Holly Rayner
Her hair went back in a sleek ponytail and she kept her makeup light. Having made every effort to look older than her twenty-eight years, she nodded firmly at herself in the bathroom mirror. Whatever happened, she’d get through it and she’d show the mystery man that she was no one to be pushed around.
Checking her email was less time-consuming than she expected. The rest of her staff must have been moving more slowly than usual that morning, too, because she only had a few emails to deal with, all from outside the company.
Lauren managed to get through two cups of coffee and some breakfast while responding to a client email thanking her for the party, a request for her to speak on a panel at an upcoming conference, and a potential client seeking reassurance that BingeWatch could was really the best company to work on her project.
Taking typical Monday traffic into account, Lauren knew she didn’t have time for anything else work-related, nor for any research. If she wasn’t going to be late—and she really didn’t want to be late—she needed to get going.
Nervous fingers tapped the steering wheel the whole drive. Kayla’s words came back to her—if she needed to, yes, she could ask her mother for the money. But that was an absolute last resort and would result in lectures about how she needed to plan better.
Besides, it might not be so bad. The buyer had been incredibly handsome, after all, and she had definitely felt the attraction when he winked at her. The guy had money and looks, and so was probably used to getting his way. But Lauren dealt with people like that daily, so she felt certain she could handle it.
And, she thought, remembering him laughing, maybe it would even be fun. A man who could laugh like that couldn’t be all bad.
She pulled up in front of a soaring office building, all glass and modern lines, and double checked the address before circling the block to find a parking spot. She took a few minutes to go through some deep breathing exercises as she sat in the car, employing the same method she normally used before she went on stage. It didn’t do all that much, but she decided she was as centered as she was going to get, so it was time to go.
If the bidder’s office was in this building, it made more sense that he was able to easily drop a hundred grand in cash. The neighborhood was known for the high-end businesses that were headquartered here. The names on the neighboring buildings were a veritable who’s who of Fortune 500 companies.
Lauren didn’t know anyone in these buildings. Her mother had considered moving her office to this area when it was built, but decided that the tradition of her long-standing office was more desirable. And BingeWatch tended to work with smaller companies, none of which were located there.
The entrance was more than a little intimidating, with marble floors, sparkling chandeliers, and expensive artwork dotting the interior walls, but Lauren only shook her head. Her mother’s office was this building times twelve. The show of elegance and wealth made her pay attention, but didn’t scare her. She gave her name at the reception desk, matching the receptionist’s bored tone and flat gaze.
Another receptionist escorted her upstairs to the top floor. Stepping out of the elevator, they walked through a lush lounge, decorated more warmly than the first-floor reception, but just as opulent. There was plush gray carpet covering the floor, more artwork, and furniture that beckoned the visitor to sit comfortably.
She was ushered into a corner office. The receptionist knocked twice on the heavy, dark wood door, then opened it and waved her through.
Lauren nodded her thanks at the receptionist, then stepped inside.
Her buyer sat behind a large desk framed by a window with a stunning view of the city. Though she had noticed him the night before, Lauren hadn’t really been able to study him. As she walked across the office, she took the opportunity.
He could have been an actor or a model, even though he obviously wasn’t—not with this office and not with that amount of cash. Lauren felt the same sense that he looked familiar, just a bit, but she still couldn’t place him.
Even more handsome in the daylight and relaxed in what was his home territory, he leaned back in the imposing leather chair and watched her as she took in her surroundings. His smile was not warm; he was waiting for something, some reaction from her maybe.
Once again, Lauren was certain that he never heard the word no. He probably said it a lot, but he looked like he expected people to jump at his every directive when he spoke.
Even sitting, Lauren could tell that he had the body of a Greek god under his impeccable suit—which was bespoke, she could tell. She appreciated the attractive, well-dressed man, but still wasn’t thrilled about the situation.
He, on the other hand, was getting more amused as he watched her approach. She recognized the look on his face; it was the same expression her mother had when she had a business rival cornered and was moving in for the kill. Lauren’s nervousness ramped up, but she kept it together and continued moving.
Instead of stopping in front of his desk, standing there like some kind of supplicant, she sat gracefully in one of the chairs opposite him without waiting for his invitation, putting herself on his eye level. He quirked an eyebrow and grinned, but didn’t say anything.
Now that she was seated, she had a better view of his desk. She gave it a quick glance, and a name plate caught her eye, finally revealing the information she sought. Engraved in gold letters on an ebony background were the words “Hakim Khalif.”
Lauren tilted her head and stared at him, a terrible thought growing in her mind. His grin spread over his face, confirming her fears.
It made sense now why she hadn’t recognized him at the party, but why he looked familiar. Her mother criticized this man so frequently that Lauren could perfectly repeat her mother’s speeches from memory.
His pictures appeared in the media, yes, but mostly because of whichever starlet the Sheikh was dating at the time. He was a member of a royal family—some tiny nation in the Middle East, Lauren remembered—and there was nothing the press loved more than a prince dating a movie star.
In spite of his playboy ways, his company had grown rapidly over the past few years and was now rivaling Patricia’s. Lauren could guess now why this man had wrangled his way into her party and paid so much money to buy her.
Lauren started to shake her head, which only prompted a cold laugh from the man on the other side of the desk.
“Lauren Sanders, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said.
“Oh, I doubt that,” Lauren said. “This is all about business; there’s no pleasure involved.”
He nodded. “True.”
“You can’t touch my company, you know. The contract says I’m not allowed to make any changes or initiate any contract actions under this arrangement.”
That got her an uncaring shrug. “I don’t want your company.”
“Then why in the world am I here?”
“Just because I don’t want your company doesn’t mean there isn’t something I want. You’re going to help me get it.”
He steepled his fingers together, and Lauren would have laughed if the whole situation weren’t so absurd. She felt like she was trapped in a play that couldn’t decide if it was a comedy, a mystery, or a suspenseful drama.
Lauren leaned back in the chair, thinking hard. Then the realization set in. “You want my mother’s company.”
Another shrug. “Not exactly, but I would be pleased to have her company out of my way.”
“You can’t do that.”
He laughed once. “I believe a hundred thousand dollars says I can.”
“I don’t have anything to do with Sanders & Company. I’m not on the board, I don’t have a financial stake in it—there’s literally nothing I can do to affect it.”
Hakim leaned forward. “I doubt that. Even without direct influence, you can still affect her business. You’re going to work for me for the next week, and we’ll see how your mother feels about that.”
“No,” Lauren shook her hea
d. “I’m not working for you. That’s the same thing as hurting my own company.”
There was that cold smile again. “You’re not going to be working for my company. I’ve given the staff at my house the week off, so you’ll be taking their place. We’ll see how your mother feels about her precious CEO daughter scrubbing kitchens and bathrooms.”
Lauren stood abruptly. “Not going to happen. The auction wasn’t meant for this kind of power play; it was a fun thing for my employees, you arrogant jerk.”
“Now, Lauren, is that any way to talk to your master?”
Her face twisted at the word. “No. We’re not doing that.”
“Again, I believe the money I paid begs to differ.” He reached for a folder on his desk, and opened it up. He picked up his copy of the contract from the auction, and flipped to the page with her signature on it. He tapped a well-manicured finger on the page.
“Fine. I’ll buy myself out,” Lauren huffed.
He studied her. “Really? I didn’t think you had those kinds of funds just lying around. But I guess you could always ask your dear mother.”
Lauren thought of about fifteen different things she could call him, most of them insults she’d learned backstage at the theater. It didn’t matter what she did here—either way, he won. Asking her mother for the money would be worse than getting through the week. She didn’t want Patricia to know about this debacle; Lauren would never hear the end of it.
Finally, she nodded. “I don’t have that kind of money, and I won’t take it from my company. I also won’t ask my mother for it, because unlike you, I have integrity. I signed that contract; it’s my responsibility, and I’ll honor it.”
His expression became impassive, but Lauren was almost certain she’d seen a tiny flinch from her words. Hakim tossed the contract back in a desk drawer.
“Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Bright and early, please. My secretary will give you the address on your way out.”
It was a clear dismissal, and Lauren hated it. But there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin, giving him her brightest smile.
“Thanks, boss. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Lauren all but chirped her reply.
She turned and exited the office briskly, but not hurriedly. She might have been a mess inside, but there was no way she was going to give this awful man the pleasure of knowing what she was really feeling.
Chapter 5
Lauren
Lauren drove into the large circular driveway and stopped, parking the car in front of the house. There was a three-car garage off to one side and an area clearly intended for guest parking, but if he wanted her there, he should have said something. She was parking right in front of the door, no matter what it looked like.
Not that the neighbors could see where she was parked; the closest house was hidden behind a tall stone fence and a screen of palm trees. It was a giant lot, even though it was a part of the city where the houses were spread out with lots of room around each of them.
The house itself was a sprawling Tuscan-style mansion built of warm natural stone. There was a fountain sitting off to the left of the main entrance, water splashing merrily from the tiered stone into a round, mosaic-tiled basin. A wide stone path led up to the glass double doors, which were framed in curls of wrought iron. Arched windows covered the front of the house, flanked by more palm trees.
It was a pretty enough house, Lauren thought, but big and a touch impersonal. The kind of house you live in because you’re supposed to, not because it’s what you want. Or maybe she was projecting the man onto the house. Either way, from the outside, it just didn’t feel like someone thought of this place as home.
She wondered if anyone else besides Hakim lived there. There weren’t any other cars around, and after double-checking the tabloids and industry magazines the night before, she knew he wasn’t dating anyone seriously.
Lauren had finally done the research she should have done before going to Hakim’s office. She’d read through everything she could find about his company online, including some accounts of the conflict between the Khalif Group and Sanders & Company. She’d also seen quite a few stories about Hakim’s personal life, which was apparently more interesting than his business existence.
Grabbing her bag, Lauren steeled herself for the day ahead and got out of the car. As she approached, she realized that there were two sets of doors, creating a sort of courtyard in between the entrances. Hakim was waiting for her, leaning against the doorframe.
It really wasn’t fair that such a cold-hearted jerk looked so good, especially at this time of the morning. But look good he did, smiling dispassionately as she walked toward the house. Lauren reached the entrance, and when he didn’t move, she rolled her eyes.
“Look, if you don’t want me here, I’ll gladly go back home and sleep a few more hours. I’ve already arranged to take the week off of work, so I could use the downtime,” she said.
Hakim pushed himself off the doorframe in a fluid motion. “Honestly, I’m a little surprised to see you here. I thought you’d change your mind and ask your mother for the money.”
Lauren smiled and shook her head. “You don’t scare me.”
He huffed a bit of a laugh. “Oh, but your mother does?”
She tried not to flinch, but noticed him catching her reaction. Oddly enough, he didn’t say anything in response, and instead just opened the door for her. Lauren walked through without waiting for him. She went ahead and entered the house, looked around, intrigued by its grandeur.
The interior matched the exterior—beautiful, but impersonal. Just from a glance, she could tell that everything was top of the line. Expensive and high quality, everything looked like it had been picked out by an exclusive designer. Oddly enough, it made Lauren feel bad for Hakim. It was nothing like her place, all warm, bright colors and comfortable fabrics.
Hakim followed her in, closing the door with a slight thump that made her startle. She gathered herself and turned to face him with a bright smile.
“So, what do you want me to do today, boss?” Lauren asked, injecting as much positivity in her tone as she could.
He jerked his chin in the direction of the back of the house. “There’s a uniform for you in the staff bathroom. Put it on, and then I’ll give you instructions.”
“Yes, master.” Lauren’s tone implied she meant something else entirely. As she turned to go, she could have sworn she saw him crack a smile.
She walked through the first floor, back behind the kitchen, to find a small bedroom and bathroom. Hanging on the hook in the bathroom was a black and white maid’s uniform. Lauren was relieved to find that it was utterly boring and ugly, nothing that would be considered remotely sexy. The pants were polyester and the shirt was scratchy, but it was functional.
Lauren could do anything in a dress; she’d once had to climb a ladder and then navigate a narrow walkway above the stage to get to her mark for her next entrance on stage. But she was still glad that she wasn’t expected to provide a visual show while cleaning this jerk’s house.
It occurred to her that Hakim probably thought he was doing a terrible thing by making her wear this ugly uniform, but she was used to costumes; community theaters had no budget, so they got whatever they could. Lauren had withstood all sorts of fabrics and styles on stage, so as long as it was something she could move in, she was good.
She changed quickly—another skill learned from theater—and was back out in no more than two minutes. Hakim looked surprised when she emerged in her new uniform so quickly. Maybe he thought it would be enough to send her running out the door; he was definitely in for a surprise then.
“What are my instructions for the day, boss?”
He snorted. “I think I preferred you calling me master.”
Lauren shrugged. “Sure. What are my instructions, oh my master?”
Her manner left no doubt what she tho
ught of his preference, but instead of getting mad, Lauren saw that he was amused by her attitude.
Hakim waved a hand to indicate the whole house. “I told you I gave the house staff the week off? Everything needs to be cleaned. I like a spotless house, so please pay attention to the details.”
“And after that?” Even as big as the house was, unless he’d thrown some kind of insane party the night before, Lauren knew that with just him living there, it couldn’t be that bad.
“If you get done with that,” his tone making it clear he didn’t think she’d get that far, “you can go. Just be back first thing tomorrow morning.”
Lauren smiled slowly. “Are you sure it’s wise to leave me in your house all day?”
Hakim gave her a wicked grin. “Yes. After all, you’re the one that emphasized her integrity.”
Lauren couldn’t say anything to that, so Hakim smirked and grabbed his suit jacket from off the back of a chair, then left her standing there as he left the house.
After she heard his car leave, Lauren wandered around the house. As she’d suspected, it really wasn’t that bad. But she had a feeling he’d expected her to balk at doing menial chores, which just made her want to throw something at his head. She’d been taking care of herself most of her life. Even though they’d had a housecleaning service come in once a week when she was a kid, Lauren had always been expected to do her own chores. Cleaning the mansion would be tedious, but not difficult.
Besides, it was an opportunity. One thing she’d learned from her mother was that you could use the most mundane situations to discern details about your competition.
Maybe by spending some time in this man’s home, she could learn more about him. And then maybe she’d better understand the rivalry between Hakim and her mother. If he was determined to hurt her mother by using her as pawn, it was only fair that she used her time that week to learn more about him. And if she chose to give that information to her mother, well, it was his own fault for setting up the situation.
