“My sources at the papers refused to give me a name but told me a customer took the picture. That doesn’t matter.” Marty pointed at Addison in the picture. “She’s perfect. I’ve already run a background check on her. She’ll remind people of your cousin Callie and Jake’s wife, Charlie. You know how much the public adores them. They didn’t even care that Callie was illegitimate. All they cared about was that your uncle pulled her into the family fold. And society loves that Charlie, one of its own, tamed Prince Charming. The only time you see Jake in the news these days is when The Falmouth Foundation takes action.”
He couldn’t disagree with how much the American public adored the two women, but he’d just wrapped his head around Marty’s initial plan.
Marty pulled two folders from his briefcase and slid one toward him. “Some of the information in here you may already know, but I’ll give you the condensed version. You can read the rest later.” He opened his own folder. “Born Addison Raimono to Marta and Salvatore Raimono. She has no criminal record. She earned her bachelor’s degree from Suffolk University in interior design. Two years ago she started her own business, Designs by Addison. It does both interior design and decorating, although she’s handled more decorating projects since the business started.” Marty paused for a breath. “While the company regularly has clients, she’s just getting by. Several times a week she works at one of her family’s bakeries, usually the one on Federal Hill. My guess is to supplement her income. For the past two years she’s lived in Cumberland.” Marty turned the page in his folder and kept on reading. “Her mother runs the family bakery located up on Federal Hill and her father, a retired Marine, works as a correctional officer at the Maximum Security prison in Cranston.”
Trent followed along, amazed at how much information Marty had gathered in such a short amount of time.
“Addison is the youngest of five children and her family has strong ties to Rhode Island. Her mother’s grandfather, Giovanni D’Ambrosia came to this country and opened the first Ambrosia Pastry Shop and Cafe on Federal Hill. Later, his son opened another store in the North End of Boston. The third location on Benefit Street, where this picture was taken, opened twenty-five years ago and the family has just rented a location at Quincy Market for a fourth.” Marty took a sip from the coffee he’d brought in with him. “All that information is in your folder. You can read through everything again later.”
Marty fell silent when someone knocked on the door. As Shirley entered and laid out lunch, Trent looked back at the newspaper, his blood pressure inching skyward. Most of the time he ignored headlines. Rather than let them bother him, he let the comments roll off his back regardless of whether or not they were true. But this headline couldn’t have come at a worse time. It especially angered him because all they’d done was have a coffee and talk for a few minutes.
“You dug up all this information but couldn’t learn who leaked this picture to the papers?” he asked when the door closed behind his assistant.
Marty folded up the sleeves of his shirt. “It’s all a matter of importance. The who doesn’t matter. The wonderful opportunity it presents does. Now, I need to know everything. How did you meet her? How long have you known her? Have you slept with her yet?”
Trent pinched the bridge of his nose. Christ, couldn’t he have a cup of coffee with a woman without someone assuming he’d slept with her? “I met her just before you and I met last week. I bumped into her on the sidewalk and spilled coffee on her. When this picture was taken I had stopped in the bakery and when I saw her again I said hello. We talked for a few minutes before she left.”
As Marty chewed he jotted notes down on a legal pad. “That’s it? You didn’t ask her out to dinner? Get her phone number?”
Did the man think he asked out every attractive female he met? “More or less.”
Marty looked up at him. “More or less, I need to know everything. And when I say everything, I mean it.”
“I told her I wanted this office redecorated and asked if she might be interested. Shirley called and set up an appointment with her.” After giving Shirley the instructions, he hadn’t thought anymore about it.
“Excellent. When?”
“I’ll have to check my calendar.”
Marty tapped his pen against his pad several times before he spoke. “We might have to change our timetable a little, but I’d like to keep to it if possible. A wedding at the end of next summer is ideal. That would give you a solid year of marriage before the actual election.”
Caution flags jumped up as he listened to Marty. The advisor’s original plan had been acceptable. A marriage to a wealthy socialite who viewed their relationship as a way to achieve her own goals was one thing. What Marty proposed now was entirely something else.
“Perhaps we should stick with what we originally discussed. Why don’t I go through these and pick a candidate?” Trent reached for the binders Marty had put together. “Then there’ll be no need to adjust our timeline.”
“You hired me because you want to win.” Marty pointed his pen at the picture of Addison. “She’s your ticket to the Senate.”
Trent’s eyes focused on the picture. What had she just said to him when the picture was taken? It must have been funny because he had a huge smile on his face. Come to think of it, he’d smiled through much of their conversation. She’d had an easygoing nature with a great sense of humor. There had been no awkward moments or long gaps of silence. Under different circumstances he wouldn’t mind getting to know her better.
“The women in here may help repair your reputation.” Marty pointed to the binders he’d put together of potential wife candidates. “This one, though, will win the hearts of voters.” He nodded toward the newspaper on the table. “I don’t understand the problem. She’s beautiful and well-educated.”
Marty had him there. Addison was attractive and, from all he could tell, intelligent. Even with that knowledge, a corner of his conscience prickled at the idea.
Across the table Marty popped a pickle in his mouth and chewed as he waited. “If it helps, look at it this way. Her involvement with you will put her business on the fast track. The whole thing will still more or less be a business agreement.”
Trent nodded. Marty had a point. If he and Addison became romantically involved it would do more for her business than an ad during the Super Bowl.
“If you’re going to make it in politics you need to learn to do what’s right for your career, everything else comes second. Trust me, I’ve been around long enough to know that few politicians make it with their conscience intact.” Marty pushed the paper closer to him. “So what’s it going to be?”
Addison’s face beamed up at him. “We’ll try it your way, but if it’s not working we will fall back to our original plan.” Sure, they’d had an enjoyable conversation over coffee, but he was not prepared to wager the rest of his life on that. He picked up his untouched sandwich. “I’m assuming you made sure she’s not involved with anyone.”
The look Marty gave him said it all. “Unless she’s got a secret lover tucked in her closet, she’s single and has been for over a year.”
“Okay, I’ll let you know how things go. But in the meantime, keep working on who leaked this picture.”
***
The phone on Addie’s desk rang again. In fact, her office phone hadn’t stopped ringing since yesterday. It seemed like suddenly everyone in the greater Providence area wanted their home or office redecorated. While she knew her reputation was growing, she knew that wasn’t the reason for her sudden popularity. When she’d first seen her picture in the paper she wanted to crawl under a rock. The idea that someone took her picture without her knowledge and then sold it outraged her, made her feel violated. Yet since that picture surfaced, her phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Her calendar was now booked solid with potential clients.
“Knock, knock.” Her cousin’s voice called from the doorway.
With the phone receiver still glued to her ear,
Addie waved her cousin inside. “Excellent. I will see you next Wednesday at two o’clock. I look forward to working with you.”
Chloe dropped into the chair near her desk and placed a white paper bag in front of her. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said when Addie hung up the phone.
“Starved. Thank you.” Without any hesitation, she pulled out the mini calzone from the bag. “I haven’t stopped all day.”
Chloe leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Business is good, I take it?”
“Good doesn’t begin to explain it.” She raised the calzone toward her mouth, the scent of oregano teasing her nose. “I’ve had more people call me since that picture appeared in the paper than all of last month.”
Her cousin gave her an I told you so look. “And you were all upset about it. I bet you’re not anymore.”
Addie gave her a shrug, her mouth full of food.
“All the bakeries have had a surge in sales, too, especially the one on Benefit Street. I think people keep stopping in hoping to see Trent Sherbrooke seated at a table.”
“I’d still like to know who sent that picture to the paper.”
“Who cares?” Chloe asked. “You’re benefiting from it and I’m sure Trent Sherbrooke is used to being in papers by now.”
“I care.” Addie popped another chunk of her calzone into her mouth and glanced at her watch. She had another hour before her appointment with Phyllis Harney on the East Side. When she’d worked for Ducat and Wakefield, she helped redesign the woman’s gourmet kitchen. Right before the picture in the paper came out, Phyllis called and set up an appointment. Evidently, she’d divorced and wanted to redecorate her master suite.
“So what did the two of you talk about that afternoon?” Chloe asked. “You never did tell me.”
The conversation with Trent rolled through her mind. “Nothing, really. I told him a little about what I did.”
Her cousin leaned forward. “He looked rather happy in that picture. You must have said something to him.”
“I teased him a bit about not spilling coffee on me again.” Addie picked at the calzone on her desk.
Chloe shook her head, a look of pity on her face. “Seriously, Addie. You had Trent Sherbrooke sitting across from you and you made jokes? Man, don’t you know how to flirt a little? If that had been me I wouldn’t have been talking about coffee.”
Addie rolled her eyes. Her cousin was always on the lookout for Mister Right. Hopefully one of these days she’d find him. Maybe then she’d stop pestering her about it. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I flirted or not, Chloe. A man like him wouldn’t be interested in me even if I stripped in front of him.”
“You still could’ve tried.” Chloe took a sip from the water bottle she’d brought in with her. “Since we are on the topic of men, did you and Dustin ever go out?”
“Yes, and there will not be a second date.” Addie gathered up what she needed for her afternoon appointment.
“Why not?”
A close friend Chloe had met in a college night class, Dustin had been a nice enough guy. He just wasn’t the guy for her. “He was as nice as you said, but we have nothing in common, Chloe. Besides, I don’t have a lot of free time right now. Honestly, I think you and he should get together.”
Chloe shook her head, her ponytail swinging back and forth. “No way. We’re friends.”
“So?” Addie asked, surprised by how adamantly her cousin answered.
“I don’t want to mess up our friendship,” she said as she checked her phone. “I need to go. I’ll talk with you later.”
When her cousin left, she took one more bite of her calzone and wrapped the rest up. She’d never understand her cousin. If she and Dustin were already friends, that seemed like a great start for a relationship. And after meeting Dustin and hearing him talk about her cousin, she suspected that he was already half in love with Chloe. Perhaps next time she saw Chloe she’d press the matter. She’d have to be a little subtle about it of course, but her cousin wasn’t the only one that could play cupid.
Chapter 5
Addie took a seat in one of the leather chairs, crossed her legs and watched as the woman behind the desk reached for the phone. Her appointment wasn’t for another fifteen minutes and Shirley, the secretary behind the desk, had informed her that Mr. Sherbrooke was just finishing up a conference call and would be with her shortly.
All week she’d been both dreading and looking forward to this appointment. During her time in Boston she’d worked on projects for some wealthy clients, but she’d never been in charge. Others at the firm brought in the clients and doled out the work. Before any of her designs or ideas could even be presented to clients, her supervisors needed to approve them. This time she was on the front line. Nothing stood between her and the client. She’d started her own company for that very reason. However, in the two years since she’d started Designs by Addison, she’d never had a client of Trent Sherbrooke’s stature. The idea of working for him thrilled and terrified her at the same time.
She gripped and ungripped the strap of her bag. His status as a high profile client wasn’t the only thing that had her stomach in a knot. The picture from the paper remained a worry as well. While he was by no means a stranger to tabloid headlines, he may think twice before hiring her because of it. In truth, ever since the picture appeared she’d expected a phone call from his secretary canceling today’s meeting.
At the sound of a door opening, Addie looked toward the office door behind Shirley’s desk. “I emailed you a list of construction proposals. Please make sure they get to Sherbrooke Enterprises.” When Trent finished speaking he turned his gaze on her. “Ms. Raimono, sorry to keep you waiting. Please come in.”
She gripped the straps of her bag tighter and a spasm of pain shot through her hand as she stood. “No need to apologize. I was early.” She walked past him into his office, the scent of his musky aftershave teasing her. Inside the office her eyes swept around the room, ideas emerging before she even sat down.
“Please have seat.” Trent stopped near the conference table by the window. “As you can guess, this office wasn’t decorated for me.”
Addie pulled out one of the upholstered chairs at the table and sat. “No, this office was decorated for a woman. But we can change that.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop while Trent took the seat next to her. Then, before he could make any comments, she pulled up her standard client questionnaire. “Before I do anything else, I like to get to know more about my clients. What colors they like, types of fabrics or patterns they prefer. That sort of thing. After that, I can get measurements and input them into my design software. From there I can generate possible 3-D options for you to review.”
Trent didn’t respond right away. Instead, he placed his forearms on the table and clasped his hands together. “Ask away.”
As if her eyes had a mind of their own, she looked over at his tanned hands with their long fingers and short nails. He’s just another client. Think about how you teased him the other day.
Clearing her throat, she dragged her eyes back to the computer. “Okay, to start with what colors do you prefer?”
“Silver, red.” Trent paused for a moment. “And green.”
As he answered, she typed. “Can you be more specific? For example, do you prefer a darker red like crimson or more of a fire engine red? Forest green or more of a lime green?”
“I’d say more of a fire engine red and green similar to the beads in your necklace.”
She glanced down at her necklace and then up again at Trent, her eyes locking with his. “Forest green,” she mumbled like an idiot unable to look away from his intense eyes. A beautiful shade of sapphire blue shared by many of the Sherbrookes.
“A shade or two lighter is nice, too.”
His comment reminded her they still had more questions to get through. “Okay, what colors do you dislike?” She focused on the blinking cursor on the screen.
�
��Yellow,” he answered with no hesitation. “And that brown coffee becomes after you add cream to it.”
The amusement in his voice had her looking over at him again. When she saw the smile on his face her own lips curled upward and some of her anxiety washed away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Quickly, they went through the remainder of her questions. “I’d like to get some measurements of the office now, if you don’t mind.” She leaned over and pulled an electric tape measure from her bag. As she straightened back up, a hand settled on her arm causing her stomach to flip flop.
“No, of course not, but before you do that I’d like to apologize.”
Nothing he had said or done since the start of their meeting required an apology.
“The picture in the paper,” he said as she continued to think over their meeting so far. “I don’t know who sold it to the paper, but I hope it hasn’t caused you any problems.”
Oh, why did he have to bring that up today? The whole idea that some reporter had linked them together embarrassed her. “It shocked me, but it hasn’t caused me any problems.”
As he moved his hand, he gave her a smile and once again her stomach did a little shimmy. There was no mistaking why women around the world threw themselves at him. Not only did he have an overabundance of money and charm, but he was drop dead gorgeous to top it off. In many ways it struck her as unfair that one man would have so much going for him.
Holding up her electronic tape measure she pushed back her chair. “Once I get some measurements I can create some models based on your preferences.”
Next to her, Trent stood as well. “Excellent. How long does that generally take?”
“It varies. Did you have a specific time frame in mind?” She crossed to the opposite side of the office to measure the width between the office door and the windows.
While she took measurements, he remained near the table, but his eyes followed her. Or at least she thought they did. The hairs on the back of her neck said they did. You’re imagining things. While she waited for an answer, she returned to her computer and typed in the measurements.
Redeeming The Billionaire (The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 5) Page 4
