by Sierra Rose
“I see you saw the newspaper.”
“Um, yeah.”
“I don’t sleep with married women. That’s not my style. Geraldine is a very good friend of mine who is getting divorced. What they didn’t tell everyone is that her husband has cheated on her their entire marriage. She was getting ready to get divorced. She was hurting, and I was just trying to ease her pain. She didn’t think she could ever move on. I told her what a beautiful, sexy woman she was, and that any guy would jump at the chance to date her. And then she kissed me.”
“The newspaper didn’t mention that. I guess they spun it their own way to sell a story.”
“We never slept together. We only kissed that one time. And the paparazzi caught it on film.”
A security guard stepped inside. “We have some big problems. The news crews are parked outside the gate. Looks like they’re camping out. And the reporters want a statement.”
“I’ll handle this,” he said coolly and calmly as ever. “I’ve got to get to the office. Or I’ll be late.”
He walked out the door, and his security guard followed him.
Chapter 8
Harvey straightened his tie and ran his hands through his hair, mussing it intentionally. He didn’t like being summoned to his own building or called on the carpet by the very same board of directors that offered him everything but the moon itself last October if he’d only stay on and rehab the corporation. He was ready for them, though.
He entered the long room, the narrow chrome conference table that had been his own idea gleaming in the glow from the skylights. He shook hands with a dozen people, said hello and asked about children and pets, as friendly as possible.
“Do have a seat, Harvey,” Davis Bellows said. Bellows was the elder statesman of this crew, with two decades on the board. He gestured to a seat as if he were the man in charge of this witch hunt. Harvey obliged, his fingers laced comfortably together on the tabletop as he waited, “As you know, your recent dalliances have been noted in the press. Web sites and gossip magazines in the area have published photos of you partying with various girls. That alone was enough to make stockholders and potential investors question the stability of our leadership, the ethics of our executives. Now this nonsense with Geraldine Brookheimer—”
“I believe you mean Geraldine Montbatten, as she’s taking back her maiden name in the divorce,” he corrected coolly.
“There has been no divorce filed. She and her husband have reconciled. You have been photographed with your tongue down a married woman’s throat. Not just any married woman. The wife of a former board member and current stockholder. Marty Brookheimer is a good friend and a longtime supporter of this corporation. Your behavior—”
“Are shares still up?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hire me to run this company and get it in the black again, or did you hire me to be a celibate?”
“You screw every beautiful woman in sight.”
“Who or what I do should in no way affect you or any other employee of this company. In fact, my private life is not on the table.”
“As noble as that sounds everything is on social media now and honestly, you’re the face everyone associates with this business, and if your face is in a married woman’s cleavage, it soils the corporation and all of its associates.”
“I fail to see any obvious impact of my extracurricular activities on stock prices or investor morale. In fact, I’m sure you’ve heard that there is no bad publicity. Primarily my objection to this scolding is the fact that my private indulgences are entirely my own purview, and my contract has no proviso guaranteeing board approval of my every move. If, for example, I order a shrimp appetizer, do we need to call a vote? Will a quorum do if I want to kiss my date or must all directors be present to cast a ballot on my right to do so? As long as the business is doing well and you have no issues with my on-job performance, I believe we’re done here, Bellows,” Harvey said, his voice even and firm, belying the anger that seethed inside him.
“Your morally questionable behavior reflects poorly—” Bellows began.
“I’m afraid I must interrupt you again, my good man. I’m certain that everyone at this table has a chapter of his or her personal life they’d not care to discuss with their business associates. I am not a reality TV star, and I haven’t invited the public into my bedroom. With all respect, I haven’t invited my colleagues either. I make it a strict policy not to mix business with pleasure, and that is far more information than you are entitled to receive on my private matters,” Harvey continued.
“We can fix your image.”
“How so?”
“Settle down. Pick a woman and stick with her. The PR team can focus some coverage on the romance, and it will endear you and all of us to the business world. I’m thinking a Cinderella story would earn you extra brownie points in the public eye. We need the public to love you, to be a hero in their eyes. Maybe ask out one of your staff or your secretary. It would be greatly appreciated by this team that hired you, and that selfsame team which will complete your performance appraisal in two months’ time.”
“Allow me to clarify. Are you suggesting that with shares up thirty percent from last year’s appraisal, name recognition and public opinion of the corporation on the upswing as well that you would give me a negative appraisal because you don’t approve of who I date?”
“If it were only one, we could deal with who you date, but we both know it’s more than one.”
“That is both irrelevant to my job performance and an absurd consideration in the professional realm.”
“While your opinion is noted, the public image of this company is critical at a time when we’re seeking to expand overseas. Public and director confidence in our leader must be at an all-time high, not tainted by sleazy tabloid antics. Rehab your image. You have two months to do so.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s, shall we say, a business plan with a definite deadline in place,” Bellows said. “You need to fix your tarnished image. Get a wholesome girl. Show her off to the world. Let the world fall in love with her. Get photographs of her smiling and gazing into your eyes like she’s never been happier. Then romance the hell out of her, and show everyone what a wonderful guy you truly are. That’s how you get back into grace with the public. And they’re very forgiving. You just tell them you realized the error of your ways, and that this woman has changed you for the better, and that you’re smitten. And the old playboy has retired. That because of fate, you’re now a one woman man, that this woman has literally brought you down to your knees. Show the world you’ve found the love of your life. You can do this, Harvey. I know you can.”
Reeling, Harvey nodded to them and stalked out without another word. He had no choice. His career, his reputation as a rising star in the world of finance whose bold business decisions were virtually untouchable, was under siege from hyper-conservative directors. He’d spent more than a decade building his career and had achieved phenomenal success already. Being terminated from an executive position for ‘personal problems’ would be a blight on his record, would crash the demand for his rehabbing services. That was what he liked—flitting from company to company every two or three years, fixing one up and moving on to the next, rather like those people on television who ‘flipped’ old houses only on a much larger scale.
He had wealth and success, but he didn’t fancy the idea of an acrimonious resignation or firing, didn’t relish the threat of recrimination. This could hurt his personal brand, his brilliant track record. Every company he’d ever helmed had begged him to stay on, had offered him outrageous sums of money and incentives to remain. Until now. They were challenging his character and ability and he didn’t take kindly to the question.
Geraldine was a friend whom he shared one kiss with. If she wanted to be with her cheating husband over him, then so be it. Harvey was also dating a beautiful heiress. He wasn’t so attached to her that he wouldn’t cut her l
oose in an instant. It was the principle of the matter, of being forced into breaking it off with an attractive and amusing woman before he was done with her. Still, she had to go. She was hardly worth his career. Now, for a suitable candidate for his new love, his ‘fiancée’ that the board insisted upon. He couldn’t imagine pretending to dote on any of his recent lovers, not to mention he usually had to dump them for being clingy, so crawling back asking for a favor didn’t appeal to him much. It needed to be someone new, someone fresh the press hadn’t scented yet.
They wanted a Cinderella angle for good publicity. He considered his employees. It might as well be someone on his payroll who was loyal and trustworthy, who might do the favor for extra cash. Greta was engaged, so she was out, despite his admiration for her practical nature—she would have agreed to a fake engagement and never given him any nonsense about feelings. Mrs. Marks was too old. Mariel was too…scary. Two of the maids didn’t speak English which would make giving them instructions as to how to behave at formal events a challenge. His secretary wouldn’t give him the time of day no matter how much money he flaunted. His personal assistant was married. That left the intriguing little morsel, Bella. She’d certainly be attractive enough that the media and stockholders would see her appeal for him. She had that rural innocence that would play well in the press as well. Young and guileless and a pretty blonde. Yes, she’d do.
He went back home for the express purpose of making her a proposition. He found her snacking on an apple in the kitchen and chatting to Fabrice. Harvey gave the chef a pointed look and the man excused himself immediately, leaving half-chopped vegetables on the counter and vacating just as he should at a nod from his employer. Bella looked up and smiled at him, “It’s not as good as lemon cake, but it’s still delicious. Want one?” He shook his head.
“I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“What? Because I don’t do cat suits.”
“I beg your pardon for the bluntness, but I find myself in a situation that requires me to reassign you from housekeeping to another division in my household.”
“Really? Have I made a mistake?” she asked, and he could see her get nervous.
“Not at all. You’re just imminently suitable demographically for a short-term project I need to get underway.”
“Demographically?”
“Yes. You’re the right age and the right physical type. You’ll appeal to my target audience quite well.”
“Audience? I’m not into adult films.”
She laughed as he smiled.
“So who is this audience?” she asked.
“The board of directors and stockholders of Bellingford Finance. They don’t like my recent social activities, and it would be to my benefit to settle down with one woman. In theory, that is, if not in practice, for the period of two to three months pending my employment appraisal. I need a fiancée for hire, and you’re the woman I’ve chosen.”
“I—I—I’m flattered, I guess. I mean, I saw Pretty Woman and thought being hired by a handsome, wealthy man would be a sweet deal, but I’m not that kind of girl, and I don’t sell that sort of thing.”
“I don’t intend to take advantage of you, either physically or emotionally, nor would I expect you to sell your body. This would be a business arrangement in which I compensate you financially for making certain public appearances in which you pose as my fiancée. You would continue to live here, and we would publically state that we were romantically involved and looked forward to a future together. It would be an acting job, basically.”
“Platonic?”
“Strictly. Displays of affection would be necessary in a staged setting for photo opportunities only.”
“So we’d kiss?” she asked.
“Yes. You would be able to keep any wardrobe and gifts you acquired as well as the financial package.”
“I don’t want to be paid to kiss someone. That sounds really—clinical and cold. Anyway, I don’t think that’s a good idea for me. It’s a very practical offer, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline. I hope you find somebody who fits what you need, Harvey. Thanks for asking me,” she said, clearly ready to run out of the kitchen from awkwardness.
“I apologize for making you uncomfortable. It was never my intention. I hope you’ll reconsider.”
“I won’t, but thanks. I’ve got to get ready. I’m meeting some friends in Phoenix in a couple of hours.”
“Have fun,” he said, a plan forming in his mind.
“Thanks.”
“Any idea how you’ll get there?”
“The bus.”
“I have a better idea. I can drive you.”
“Driving me isn’t going to change my mind.”
“I understand that. But it’d be my pleasure to drive you there.”
“Then I accept. Thanks, Harvey. My friends can drive me home.”
Chapter 9
Bella thought about Harvey’s proposal. He’d pay her a lot of cash, and all she had to do was pretend like they were engaged. A little kissing. Who wouldn’t want to run their hands through his hair and lock lips with that gorgeous man? And she could have her college practically paid for.
It wasn’t anything like she’d imagined in her middle school Richard Gere daydreams. Being offered money to act like a millionaire’s girlfriend felt wrong, not at all romantic. Surely there were plenty of ex-girlfriends who’d line up for that role. Still, it had been tempting because he was so handsome and charming, and her first instinct was to tell him yes no matter what he asked of her. Which made him dangerous to her, and she had no intention of getting involved, even as a temporary stand-in.
Bella washed her hair and put on makeup, chose a tank top and some jeans, struggling to zip them because her relationship with Fabrice’s desserts hadn’t been kind to her—she was up about three pounds and needed to take a walk instead of eating cake next week! Harvey dropped her off downtown to where the nightlife would be. It was a little early, just barely dark outside, but she had to get up early so she figured she’d hang out with the girls, have a few beers, then head home around ten so she’d be ready for work the next day.
She could hear music spilling from the bars, and the crowds of people made her feel excited, younger than she normally felt. This street was full of energy, and she felt a zing of excitement at the neon lights, the beat of the music and the promise of a night out with friends, carefree.
Bella made her way to the bar at the Metro, taking in the gorgeous short dresses on the women and the tight v-necks on the men as they chatted and danced under flashing club lights. She sat down on a stool and looked around for Marnie and Jade. They’d said they’d meet her at seven thirty, and she was a little early, so she ordered a club soda to start out slow and enjoyed the music. She hadn’t been out like this in ages, not since her last date with the hipster guy months ago. She’d been busy with late shifts at the convenience store back in Arkansas, and she hadn’t made any effort to date in Arizona. So this was a fun novelty.
Instead of Netflix in her nightshirt and late-night kitchen runs, she was out seeing people her own age and listening to the thumping beat of club music and taking in all the voices and laughter.
A guy came up and offered to buy her a drink. She thanked him but said she was waiting for friends, “If your friend doesn’t show up, I’ll be around,” he said. After a few more minutes of nursing the club soda and checking her phone to make sure she had the right bar at the right time to meet Marnie and Jade, she approached the guy and asked him to dance. Might as well have a good time while she waited.
They danced together twice and just as she’d worked up a sweat and started to get thirsty. Bella spotted Jade’s distinctive platinum blonde bob that was the same since high school. She thanked the guy for the dance and went to join them.
“Hey, guys!” she said.
“Hi, Bella,” Marnie said, looking bored already, “what’s good here?”
“I love their Margarita’s. They’ve got
a great DJ. Let’s order, and then hit the dance floor.”
“I thought we’d catch up first,” Jade said, flipping her hair and ordering some exotic cocktail Bella couldn’t even pronounce. She held out her left hand that sported a huge sparkling diamond ring, “We’re only in Phoenix tonight. Tomorrow we fly out for my bachelorette weekend in LA.”
“Awesome. Congratulations!” Bella said, admiring the ring sincerely.
“So what have you been up to?” Marnie asked, “Last I heard you were cleaning rooms for Donner.”
“I was. Then I moved out here to take a better job.”
“Oh, really? What do you do?”
“I’m a housekeeper at this really nice mansion with a pool and—”
“So let me get this straight. I’m getting married, Marnie’s getting promoted, and you’re cleaning toilets?” Jade said with a sniff, downing her drink.
“Well, it’s actually a great place to work and the money’s good, so I can finish my degree,” Bella said, her face flaming with shame. She didn’t have a diamond ring or a boyfriend even, and she was a maid. She wondered why she’d come here, just to compare herself to women who were a lot farther in life than she was.
“Right. So the showers you clean are nice ones? Is that an improvement? Really, Bella. I expected more from you. With a face like that, you could have at least landed a guy by now. Gotten married, had a house of your own to clean.”
“I’m only twenty-two. I’ve got plenty of time for that once my career is established,” she said hotly.
“Oh, I think you’ve already established yourself as a toilet brush celebrity,” Marnie laughed as they drank another round.
Bella texted Harvey and asked him to come back and pick her up. She wasn’t staying with these idiots any longer than she had too.
“Tell me about your promotion,” Bella said stiffly, determined to be friendly.
“I’m the Assistant VP of Marketing at Scherner Foods as of last month. Bumped me up to 65K a year plus benefits and a company car,” Marnie preened.
