by Bella Grant
The way she smiled at her co-workers told him she had a good heart, but she didn’t look like someone who could be taken for granted. His observation told him she would be hard to get but worth the chase, and he was up to it. If she had smiled at him or encouraged him, he would have gone up to her and invited her to dinner again, or given her his card and told her to call him at her convenience. At such times, most girls would take a brief look at the card and recognition would hit them, and they would suddenly become putty in his hands. Not this one.
He had hung around the café for a while, and as soon as he left, he had called his private investigator to get more information about her.
Twenty-four hours later, he was holding her entire life in a file in his hands. He pulled out a picture of her and smiled. She would never be anyone’s puppy. Even the way she posed confidently in the picture told him the only time she would ever bark would be in the bedroom. Or maybe purr. Whatever. And if he wanted her in his bed, he had to do something about it. Get her into his space. Maybe get her to the annual ball where he could woo her with kindness and luxury. It didn’t take him long to decide to invite her to his company’s annual ball.
When he first came up with the plan, he was so sure she would call him and tell him he had the wrong Sara Nolles, in which case he would have explained to her that she was welcome to come since she already had the card. He had been waiting all day for her to call him, but his phone had yet to ring. Either she hadn’t seen the card yet or had decided to ignore it, but he was hoping she would have at least acknowledged the receipt of the card. Either way, he was going to move ahead with the next stage in the plan with the solid assumption that she would come out of curiosity.
SARA
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of the doorbell ringing. I ran to the door, expecting to see my best friend from kindergarten, Amy, who always showed up at odd hours at my house. She usually unlocked the door with the spare key she had, but sometimes she rang the doorbell first just in case I was in some compromising situation with a non-existent man. It didn't matter these days because I didn't have a boyfriend, so the worst thing that could happen if she opened the door without warning would be to see me naked. That she had seen a million times over the twenty years of our friendship.
I didn't bother putting my robe on. Only when I opened the door did I realize that I was practically naked, having slept in just a tee-shirt. But it was too late to close the door. I stood self-consciously in front of a delivery man who handed me a gold box. He looked at me for a few seconds, probably taking note of my nipples, which had hardened against my tee-shirt in the draft of cold air from the opened door.
"Good morning, Ms. Nolles?" he asked, looking around like he was lost.
"Yes, I’m Ms. Nolles." I looked at his badge, which had the Saunders Empire logo and his name. "Hello, David.”
He also looked down at his badge and smiled at me. "Ms. Sara Nolles?" he asked again as if to ascertain he was in the right place and I was the right person.
"Yes, I'm Sara Nolles," I replied again.
"I trust you received your personal invitation from Mr. Saunders?"
"Yes..." I said, unsure why he was asking. “But there seems to be a mix up.”
"I can’t speak for the mix up, ma’am. You may have to call the company directly. I’m here to deliver a follow-up from the card. This is from Mr. Saunders," he said, handing me the box.
Before I could say a word, he had turned away. "No wait, David. I don’t think you have the right Sara Nolles. I mean, I did get a card yesterday in the mail, but I think …”
"If you got a card, ma'am, then this box is for you. My instructions were to deliver this to you at this address and confirm you received a card yesterday."
"Yes," I said, still unsure.
"I suggest you call the RSVP number on that card if you have any questions." He offered a faint smile.
"Sure. I will. Thank you,” I said. I sighed and took the box inside. It was a decently sized box but didn't weigh much. Wrapped in a pretty bow, the box smelled nice as if it had a built-in fragrance. I set it on my living room table and slumped onto the couch.
The box looked tempting and I bet it contained some goodies. But it wasn't mine. It was addressed to me, but I was the wrong Sara Nolles. The most sensible thing to do was return the box to Saunders Empire on Monday or call the number on the card and ask them to pick it up and send it to the right owner. I thought of the million reasons I shouldn't open the box - then I thought of one reason why I should. I had never been given a gift box from a man, not to mention a billionaire. Surely whatever he had sent would be amazing; I felt justified to open the box since it had my name on it.
Once I convinced myself it was okay, I didn't waste another minute. I quickly untied the shiny bow embossed with the Saunders Empire logo. I took a deep breath and opened up the box.
"Wow!" I exclaimed, shocked. The doorbell rang before I could process what was inside the box.
I knew it was Amy because, before I could get up, the key was already turning and she was yelling. "Sara, I'm coming in!"
Shit. I didn't have time to hide the box, and I really didn't want Amy to see it. She was my best friend and I loved her to death, but if she saw it, the chances of me returning the box to the right owner would end. Amy was the only person who knew how to make me live on the edge and take chances. Some days, I needed that push, but this time, I needed privacy. I tried to cover the box, but she was by my side in a few steps.
"Hey, what's that?" she asked as she sat next to me and took the top off.
"Good morning, Amy," I sighed. "I was just about to figure it out."
Amy didn't speak as she lifted a jewelry box, which had been carefully placed in the center of the box. I tried to take it from her, but she pushed my hands away and opened it.
"Is this shit real?" she asked as the glare of the morning light coming in my tiny window shone on a necklace set with shiny stones.
"I guess," I answered with a shrug, taking the box from her and feeling the stones. They looked like diamonds. Big, chunky diamonds set into a necklace.
"No way this is cubic zirconium. Is this from Jim?"
"You know Jim and I broke up," I said.
"Oh yeah, the asshole.”
I didn't care to revisit my experience when I caught my then boyfriend messing around with his coworker in the printer room. He had dumped me like I had cheated on him. He had claimed he was in love with the girl and wanted to marry her. Since I was no longer in love with him, it didn't hurt as much as it could have. I had simply wished them luck and moved on.
"Sorry," Amy said, realizing her joke wasn't all that funny. “I shouldn’t talk bad about your ex.”
“That’s fine,” I mumbled. “He was an asshole.”
"So who would send you this necklace? Who are you fucking?”
“Amy!”
“Just asking. Men don’t buy jewelry for women without wanting more from them. It's absolutely gorgeous, by the way. You should try it on."
"I can’t try it on. It's not mine."
Amy looked at the cover of the box. "Says Sara Nolles here."
I nodded but didn’t explain it was probably the wrong Sara Nolles. Instead, I reached into the box and found a gold envelope. I tried to hide it from Amy, who was busy admiring the necklace. But she saw it and snatched it out of my hands.
"I swear, I’ll be so mad if you're dating someone and refused to tell me," she smirked as she ripped open the envelope and pulled out a card.
"Give it to me, Amy," I said, trying to take it from her, but she playfully pushed me aside, and using one hand, she pinned me to the chair while she extended the hand that held the card.
"Sara. It will be my pleasure if you wear this to the ball. I hope we can complete our unfinished business," she read aloud. "Eagerly waiting for you, Nick."
Amy handed the card to me and stood up, hands akimbo. "Who is Nick? Why didn't you tell me you were dating someo
ne? I thought we shared secrets. All secrets. Eagerly waiting for you? What unfinished business?”
"Amy, it's a misunderstanding. That's what I've been trying to tell you."
"Is that a real diamond necklace?" she asked, her eyes returning to the necklace which lay on the counter.
"Yes. It's from Nick Saunders."
"Nick Saunders? Billionaire playboy Nick Saunders?"
"Yes," I said softly, too tired to defend myself.
"Are you sleeping with that asshole and didn't tell me?"
"What? Of course not. I've never even met him!"
"So why is he sending you gifts? Why is he talking about unfinished business?"
"Because I think he thinks I'm some other Sara," I told her as I walked over to the side table on my bed where the card from the day before was lying. I picked it up and handed it to Amy.
"What's that?" She eyed me as she took the card and read it.
"It came in the mail yesterday. I think my address must have been mixed up with someone else's," I said as I sat next to her.
"A private ball? Are you going?"
"No. I am going to call that number on the card on Monday and ask them to pick up the necklace and card, and deliver them to the right person."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying this package is not mine and the right Sara may be expecting it. I mean, if I get caught with this, I could be in big trouble."
"Sara! Listen to yourself. Are you even thinking? You're broke. Stuck in a one-room tiny studio that barely gives you space to move around. You're working as a minimum wage barista and you can barely afford your graduate school fees. And goodness knows how many people you owe and how much you have in the bank right now."
"Ten dollars," I murmured, smiling, but Amy’s lecture wasn’t over.
"This necklace is yours and you are going to that ball."
"Heck no. I'm not going anywhere near Nick Saunders. You think he won't know I'm the wrong Sara? What if the right Sara shows up? I could get arrested and lose my job. I can't, Amy. Doesn't even make sense. Going to an elite ball is out of the question. I won't even know how to act or what to do. And all those people probably know each other, so I'll stick out like a sore thumb.”
"Sara, this could be an opportunity of a lifetime."
"No. Besides, you know that guy is an asshole. He changes women like you would underwear.”
“My kind of man.”
“Come on, Amy. Be serious for once.”
"I am. You might meet some of the richest men in the world."
"And their snobbish, Barbie-doll wives," I said.
"Ignore the women. They've got nothing on you with all your curves," Amy said with a smile.
"Amy, this doesn't sound right. Besides, I don't have the right dress or shoes. I can't even differentiate between a dinner fork and a salad fork. How do you expect me to fit in? It's not going to work." My arguments were weak. Once Amy had her heart set on something, she wouldn't let up until she reached a reasonable conclusion. Right now, she was focused on making me attend that ball; I was fighting a losing battle.
"Oh, don't worry about shoes and clothes. With a body and face like yours, you could easily wear rags and still look way better than all those women in million-dollar dresses. I'm sure we'll find something elegant. Your dress is on me if you promise to go in there and make great contacts for both of us. I want to be at that ball next year.”
"I don't know, Amy. It's just so wrong to impersonate someone else."
But Amy wasn't listening to me. She was done with the conversation and was heading to my kitchen in search of breakfast. I looked at the necklace once more, touching the solid stones. I was tempted to try it on, but I knew once I put it on, there was no going back. I would have to go to the ball. I closed the jewelry box and put it back in the gold box. What had I gotten myself into? Or rather, whose idea was this cruel joke?
NICK
When David, his personal chauffeur cum assistant, returned from Sara’s house and informed him that she had almost refused his invitation, Nick wanted to call her and end the secrecy. He knew her number by heart. There were so few numbers he bothered to memorize; hers was one of them. He envisioned a time when he could call her as often as he pleased and she would purr into the phone, lovingly. Not yet though.
If she managed to contact him in any way and realized he was the same man who had asked her out at the coffee shop a few days ago, she would flat out refuse the necklace and the invitation. At least if she was in possession of the necklace, she would most likely feel a moral obligation to return the necklace to him at the ball. But as the week went by, every hour became a slow second, and he needed to see her again, even if it was just to provoke her anger. He loved the way those fiery, hazel eyes lit up when she’d been mad at him the first time he’d met her at the coffee shop.
He loved how she had ignored him while he sat there, yet stole glances at him as she went about her business. Yes, she had done a good job of ignoring him and keeping to herself, but he could sense that an opportunity existed for him to break down her barriers if he got the chance to get closer to her. Getting closer to her was the operative phrase, and he could do it in so many ways - see her at the coffee shop again and try to be less of a demanding asshole or wait until she showed up at the ball and introduce himself properly.
The rational side of him told him to leave things alone and wait for her at the ball, which was only a week away. At the ball, he would pretend like the invitation and the coffee shop meeting were not connected. He knew she would call him out, but he hoped she would find it charming when he told her he really wanted to see her and had used the invitation as an excuse. It was really best to leave things alone lest he stir things up so much she caught on to who he was and flatly refused to honor his invitation.
As he sat in his expansive office overlooking all of Manhattan, he tried to give himself several reasons why staying away from her was the best thing, but he failed woefully. He needed her. Even if it was for just one lunch hour.
“Bev,” he called to his secretary via the intercom as he rose from his chair. “Please have David pull the car around in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Bev, his secretary of ten years, answered. “Going to lunch?”
“Yes,” he said. “Please cancel all my meetings until two.”
“Should I make a reservation for you somewhere?” she asked. “Your favorite restaurant?”
“No. I think I’m in the mood for something local,” he said.
“Sure thing, sir,” Bev said, a hesitation to her voice.
He put on his jacket, which had been hanging on his chair, and right before he made it out of his office, he switched his Rolex for a simpler watch. Sara wasn’t impressed by wealth, which was why she hadn’t recognized him. The Rolex made him stand out too much, and with Sara, he didn’t need to stand out. He needed her to stand out. In less than a minute Nick was out of his office and walking toward Bev, a pretty blonde.
“You should take lunch soon,” he said to her, smiling as he passed her.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t need a reservation for lunch?”
“Not today,” he said, waving at her as he got in the elevator. The poor woman was probably confused. He always had reservations for lunch. Some of the restaurants held standing reservations and some she had to call ahead right before he got there so they had his seat waiting.
But where he was going for lunch today needed no reservation. He was sure of it. When he got downstairs, David was standing next to the car, waiting to open the door of the limo for him.
“Where are we going, sir?” he asked.
“That coffee shop on the side corner of L and Penn Street,” he said.
“The one where Sara Nolles works?” David asked.
“Yes,” Nick answered. Typically, his business was his business. He did not share his business with his staff, but David had been with him too long to keep his affairs secr
et. David picked up his women and took them back. He had seen him go through a million relationships and witnessed them all fall apart.
“She’s nice,” David volunteered. “I think she’s a good choice, sir.”
“Yes, she is,” Nick said with a smile. “But I know she’s going to be a tough one.”
“Not for you, sir,” David answered, smiling.
Nick’s smile widened. David was right. He had never had difficulties getting women, and Sara Nolles was not going to be the first. He had to admit, though, there was something different about Sara, but he couldn’t quite figure it out yet. He just knew she was different – sharp-tongued, pretty, demanding, and ignorant of his status and how much money he had. It suited him just fine.
