by Regina Duke
“My driver will be there in half an hour.”
“Great. Oh! How will I know it’s your car?”
“He’ll be driving the white limo today.” Click.
“Okay, then,” said Megan into the dead phone. “The white limo.” She replaced the hand set and headed purposefully toward the alcove where the snack food machines stood waiting. “Definitely the white limo,” she said in an affected tone. “One never drives black at this time of year.” Then she giggled.
A Snickers bar and a can of Coke had her buzzing with sugar by the time the white limo pulled up in front of the hospital entrance. A young Asian man hopped out and opened the back door for her. He was wearing a jacket that reminded Megan of a sea captain.
“You are Ms. Megan Mully?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“I’m Jeffrey Wong, Mr. Wake’s driver. I’ll be delivering you to your interview this afternoon.”
For half a second, she wondered if she needed to tip the man. She wasn’t used to being driven around by a chauffeur. But then, if he worked for a wealthy gentleman, she shouldn’t have to worry about that sort of thing. She climbed into the limo and sat facing forward. Her purse had its own personal space on the roomy seat.
Wong leaned in to point out amenities. “If you’d like a refreshment, there’s a mini fridge. It will take us about half an hour to reach our destination. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
The door closed and Megan leaned back on the seat and exhaled with a whoosh. She wanted to get it out of her system before the driver got back in the car. She still had the newspaper with the ad in it, and she folded it tightly and clutched it in her lap for the first five minutes.
After that, she relaxed a bit and explored the mini fridge. She wasn’t hungry. More curious than anything. Even so, she couldn’t resist trying one of the little sandwiches on a tray. And a girl could never have enough caffeine. She popped the top on another soda, a diet drink this time. The fruit looked appealing, too, especially since she had no idea where she would be at dinner time or if she could afford to spend any of her forty dollars on a real meal. Very carefully, she smuggled an apple and a banana into her purse for later.
Megan wondered how many applicants had already ridden to their interview in the limo. If the offer was legit, she feared she would not have any of the necessary skills. What did a personal secretary do, anyway? In the age of iPhones and computers and email, did people even use secretaries anymore? The ones she’d known in the college departments all had different titles. They were office managers or clerical assistants or IT techs. Not a single one ever said she or he was a secretary.
For a few minutes, she looked out the window, but the glass was heavily tinted, and she didn’t really know what the streets were. Nothing looked familiar. She had the strangest feeling that she’d woken up from a long ugly dream and now she was emerging into a new world.
A twinge of panic rattled her insides. Her mouth dried up and she clutched her newspaper tighter, while she sipped at her soda.
Nothing bad will happen, she thought. For all they know, I’ve relayed my destination to my mother who might be a senator or a policewoman or a mob wife. They can’t possibly know. They won’t try anything shady.
Having calmed herself sufficiently, she tried breathing normally and found that air would still slide in and out of her lungs.
Sooner than she expected, the limo pulled into a parking garage beneath an office building. In one fell swoop, they left the sunlight and dove down into the dark maw of commerce. Megan already missed the sun.
CHAPTER THREE
KEVIN PACED THE length of the rented office. He glanced at the art on the walls. It wasn’t exactly what he would have chosen, but he was forced to take some short cuts. Time was of the essence. The wedding was six days away and he still had no bride.
He’d already interviewed twenty-seven women for the gentleman’s secretary position, and turned away a young gay man who came prepared to convince him that what he really needed was a male secretary. The women so far this week had been a mixed bag of disappointment. One of them was in her forties. Two of them were thirtyish, trying to pretend they were twenty-five. He took their resumes and promised to give them a decision by the end of the week. He didn’t even tell them what the job was really all about. The other four women were the right age, but one had a snarky, hostile manner and a grating laugh. His family would never believe that Kevin was madly in love with her. She chewed gum and her skirt was too short. Another was too tall. That was hard to do, since Kevin was six four. He stood in the middle of the room and looked up at her in amazement for several seconds before rushing through an interview that he already knew was pointless.
The remaining two women had been possibles. He had gone so far as to explain in part what the job actually entailed, acting the part of his fiancée. He did not tell them why. He didn’t get a chance to. The first one got up in the middle of his explanation and left without a word. The second told him she had a good mind to report him for soliciting.
It never occurred to him that such an issue would arise. He was adamant that no sex was involved or requested. He just wanted to get engaged and married before his twenty-fifth birthday.
The phone on the desk rang softly. Everything in the room whispered elegance and money, from the thick carpet to the rich mahogany of the desk and the leather of the chairs. The phones in here didn’t jangle, they gently drew your attention to an incoming call. Kevin liked that a lot, and he hoped it would be impressive enough to convince the right woman that he already had the riches he was hoping to inherit on June 30.
“Yes?”
The chauffeur’s voice announced, “She’s on her way up in the private elevator.”
“Thank you.”
Kevin hung up and opened the double doors that separated the posh office from the private elevator on the other side of the well appointed waiting room. Another smaller mahogany desk sat against one wall. It held a computer and a phone, nothing else.
The elevator doors pinged open.
The woman inside was young with ash blond hair that fell below her shoulders. Her sky blue eyes were startling in their intensity. She was five eleven, very lean, and a bit pale. She looked oddly out of place in her summer dress and flats. He found himself imagining a bathing suit beneath the frock, leaving those long, lean legs bare. She was so lovely, his composure was momentarily rattled. He shook off the thoughts about her legs and greeted her.
“Ms. Megan Mully?”
Megan stepped out of the elevator, purse over one arm, newspaper under the other. She extended a hand.
“Mr. Kevin Fineman Wake?”
“In person. Won’t you come into my office? I’ve given the receptionist the day off.” He stood aside and let her enter the large room. The tall windows and the view of the city was impressive. He wanted to make the most of it.
Megan tried to look everywhere at once. She’d been in a big office before, but only on church business with her parents. She’d never seen this kind of opulence. She decided it looked nice enough, but it needed a work table. The large polished desk was no place to spread papers and sharpen pencils.
“Do you actually work in here?” The question just popped out. She tried to cover her eruption of personal opinion by adding, “The view must be distracting.”
Kevin straightened his new suit jacket and replied, “When I’m working, I don’t even notice the view. Won’t you sit down? Would you like a coffee?”
“No, thank you. I had something in the limo.” Megan suppressed a giggle. “Sorry. I have never in my life had occasion to say anything like that before.”
Kevin smiled. “No problem. Shall we talk about the position?”
Megan sat on the deep leather chair in front of the desk, set her purse on the floor and lay the newspaper on top of it. “Oh, yes, please. I have a hundred questions.”
Kevin sat down behind the desk and steepled his fingers. “How old
are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Do you know how to use a word processing program? Are you computer literate?”
“I have a Bachelor’s degree in social work,” said Megan. “I am definitely literate.”
“Work history? Resume?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I just saw your ad this morning, and I wasn’t near my computer.” No, her computer was lying in a jumbled mess somewhere in the trunk of her wrecked car, probably in a junkyard being sold for parts. “So I just called and came. I could bring you one tomorrow.”
Kevin waved it away. “That may not be necessary. Are you discreet?”
Megan took a moment to think.
“It’s a simple question,” said Kevin.
“But not a simple answer,” she replied. “No one has ever asked me that before. I’m examining myself.”
Kevin covered his mouth to hide a grin. If nothing else, she was entertaining.
“Well?” he prompted after several seconds passed.
“Yes,” said Megan. “I believe I am.”
“Do you have any life-threatening allergies?”
“None that I know of.” Curiouser and curiouser. What did a person’s allergies have to do with being a personal secretary?
“Do you like dogs?”
“Oh, yes.” Maybe it was work environment related.
“Cats?”
“They have a purpose in life.”
“Horses?”
“Noble animals.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“The word ‘horses’ by itself is not a question. Is it my turn?”
Kevin smiled and leaned back in his chair. “By all means.”
Megan straightened her spine and folded her hands in her lap. “Is your last name Wake, or is it Fineman Wake?”
“Legally, Wake. Fineman is my mother’s family, so I carry that name as well.”
“Your ad says ‘willing to relocate.’ Do you have a single destination in mind, or does it involve extensive travel?” She didn’t want to face the exhaustion of airports, long flights, and tourism so soon after her hospital stay.
“One location, maybe two at most. Whoever gets the job will be coming to Colorado with me right away.”
Megan brightened. “I was born in Colorado.”
Kevin slumped and frowned. He couldn’t afford for his pretend bride to know all about the Finemans and the family fortunes. Granted, he was going to pay her for a role, but he didn’t necessarily want someone with extended foreknowledge of just how rich his family was.
Megan rushed on. “But if that’s a deal breaker, I can pretend I was born elsewhere.”
Kevin’s frown evaporated. “Where did you grow up?”
“Mostly in California. My dad is a minister, and he kept moving from town to town, looking for a church that needed him.”
“Do your parents live here?” Kevin hoped she hadn’t said anything to them yet. But then, all they would know would be that she was applying for a job as personal secretary. Nothing to worry about.
“No, they’re in Guatemala. That’s where dad finally found a church. A mission, actually.”
The frown was back. “You said you had to give your mother this address.”
Megan blushed. She rolled her eyes. “Of course, silly. In case you were a serial killer. Someone had to know where I was.”
“So you called Guatemala?”
“I was planning to eventually.”
Kevin laughed. He cut it short and grew serious again. “Look, Megan, I think you have a real chance at this job. There are some aspects of it that I need to explain before you make your final decision. Are you an open-minded person?”
“That depends. If you are the head of a secret cult, then no, I’m probably not open-minded enough for you. If you’re a legitimate employer, then yes, I may fit the bill.”
“Oh, this is a legitimate offer of employment. But the duties may vary a bit from what most people consider appropriate for a personal secretary.”
This time it was Megan who slumped in her chair. “Please don’t tell me you’re just looking for a date or a masseuse.”
“No, that’s not it at all.” Kevin liked Megan more and more, every time she opened her mouth. She was funny and direct and fresh. She was perfect. Now if only he could convince her to take the job.
“There’s nothing sexual or inappropriate involved in this position at all. It’s just not exactly a secretarial position in the traditional sense. You see, I need someone who can listen when I talk and retain information about my family and my business interests. I need someone who can comport themselves with dignity and composure in social situations. I need someone who doesn’t hate small boys.”
It was Megan’s turn to laugh. “That’s a good one. Fairly specific, too.”
Kevin offered a crooked smile. “I have a little brother.”
“What else do you need?” Megan was enjoying the way his face shifted from sternly serious to truly amused. When he was stern he looked like he might be thirty-something, but when he smiled, she guessed his age to be close to hers. And when he laughed, he looked like a little boy. It was an attractive mix.
Kevin hesitated. Twice he’d gotten this far, and twice the candidates had stomped out in fury. He chose his words carefully. He did not want Megan to hurl epithets and flee.
“I have a complicated family situation,” he began. “My parents are not in Guatemala. They are very much here in the States. And there is a hundred-year-old legal arrangement governing my inheritance. I need your help to guarantee that I meet those legal requirements. In exchange, I will pay you handsomely, cover all housing and transportation, and when everything is secure, there will be a large bonus in it for you.”
Megan tilted her head to one side and narrowed her gaze. “Are you sure there’s no sex involved?”
“I’ve had a legal contract drawn up for you examine, if we get that far. The no sex part is written into the contract. You will not be forced or coerced to do anything you do not want to do.”
“You were right. It’s not what I would expect from a job as personal secretary.” She tilted her head to the other side. “On the other hand, if you have lawyers involved, the chances of you being a serial killer are much reduced. They tend to work alone.”
Kevin smiled again. “We seem to have a rapport,” he said. “That is encouraging.”
Megan shook a finger back and forth in the air and said, “We have repartee,” she said. “That’s not quite rapport.”
“But it’s a beginning. Is it enough to do business together?”
Megan’s brows knit together and she leaned forward, hands clasped. “Let me see if I understand you. You want me to learn a ton of stuff about your family, then deal with your parents and your kid brother.”
“I have a teenage sister, too. Do you know much about teenage girls?”
“I spent several years as one,” said Megan. “My advice to your sister is to age as quickly as possible.”
Kevin nodded and replied in a serious tone, “I’ll pass that on to her.”
“You also want me to help you jump through legal hoops so you can receive your inheritance.”
“Correct.”
“I’m not a lawyer,” said Megan. “I have no background whatsoever in law.”
“Not necessary.”
“Then how on earth could I help you with legal rigamarole?”
Kevin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His fingers drummed the surface of the desk. “I need to be legally married before my twenty-fifth birthday.”
Megan blinked at him. “You want me to plan your wedding?”
“Not exactly.”
Megan leaned back in her chair and pinned Kevin with a sideways glance. “Just what do you want me to do?”
Kevin braced himself for another fiery exit, then said flat out, “I need you to agree to marry me until my inheritance is secured. Once that happens, and a decent amount of time passes, we
can arrange a discreet divorce. You will receive a handsome settlement, and I will have control of what is rightfully mine.”
Megan sat quietly for several seconds. Then she stood up and slung her purse over her shoulder.
Kevin thought, Here it comes. She’s going to stomp out, just like the others.
But instead, Megan asked, “May I use your restroom?”
“Oh. Of course. It’s that door by the Picasso.”
Megan retreated to the bathroom.
Kevin plopped backward in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. At least she hadn’t walked out. Yet.
He waited five minutes. Seven. Ten.
He got up and began to pace. Then he stopped and stared out the windows. Megan was right. How could anyone get any real work done in here with that view beckoning?
A soft click behind him announced Megan’s return. He whirled in time to see her take her seat. She was holding a paper towel on which she had written some notes.
Megan cleared her throat. “First of all, that is a Picasso print, not an original. I’m sure you know that, but I just wanted you to know that I do, too.”
Kevin nodded. “Okay.”
“As I said before, I know nothing about the law, but isn’t it illegal to marry someone for personal gain?”
Kevin shrugged. “No. If you want to get nit-picky, women do it all the time. Not every couple marries for love.”
Megan bobbed her head once to acknowledge that fact. “But I remember in college, a girl got in a ton of trouble for agreeing to marry a Russian engineering student so he could stay in the country and get a green card.”
Kevin spread his hands. “I’m not a foreign national. I’m an American citizen. As such, I have the right to get married if I want to. Correct?”
Megan bobbed her head again, then moved on to her next note. “You had a lawyer draw up the contract. Will I be allowed to show it to another lawyer? May I take a copy of it with me?”
Kevin squirmed.
Megan’s head dropped. “So it is a trick, then.”
“No, no, it’s legit. I just can’t let you take a copy away with you. You see, if my father’s legal team sees this contract, I’m screwed.”
