Maureen, his personal shopper, would know exactly what was in season and what would look the best on Sophia’s body. She’d worked with him for over four years now, and she hadn’t failed him yet. He knew this situation would be no different. Yes, he’d sent women to Maureen to find them attire for certain events. But he’d never went ahead and ordered a woman’s dress without her approval. That idea seemed too personal. Why he was going out on a limb and doing it for Sophia was questionable. He paused, trying to come up with a reason. Damn. It was a question that had no answers.
“You did it, didn’t you?” Regina whispered into the phone the next morning.
“I cannot discuss this matter now. I will ring you back.”
“Michael!”
He hung up the phone before she could say anything more. He had a meeting in two minutes down the hall that he had to be at, and he didn’t have the time, nor the wherewithal, to delve into that conversation just yet.
As he walked in, the oval table was decorated with pastries and fruit. The smell of coffee—which disgusted him—permeated the air. A few women stood, filling their coffee cups with loads of cream and sugar. Sick. Sick that they drank it and sick that should any man want to kiss them, their breath would reek of the dry, foul smell.
He thought about Contessa Sophia and wondered if she drank coffee. He hoped not. He should have asked. The wait staff usually served coffee at the end of the evening along with the dessert. He rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know why the fuck he was thinking about her this much, let alone the idea of whether she drank coffee. It wasn’t like he was going to kiss her. He made it a point not to kiss his dates. Any of them. This meeting was supposed to be important – he wanted to discuss the website layout and brainstorm if there was a better way to make the process of perusing through ‘potentials’ any quicker than it was. He needed to focus.
As they sat there brainstorming, his mind drifted back to Sophia. The intrigue and the addiction he was experiencing to get back on to the website and chat with her were feelings he’d never experienced through his entire career at Together. He realized he was his own guinea pig, experiencing firsthand what he’d sought out to do to other people. A rush of excitement wound its way around his limbs as he tried to be present in the here and now of the meeting.
“Maybe we could narrow down how many picks the database pulls up at one time for potential meets?” Phoebe suggested. Phoebe had worked at Together for two years now where she was first hired as an intern.
“It could work, but we don’t want to limit the number of potential matches for people.” He leaned forward in his chair, tapping his chin as he thought it through. “But I think you’re on the right track. Maybe we limit how many potentials can be in their ‘folder’ for so long before they can look for more?”
“But if people are paying for this service in the long run, going that route places a big restriction on them,” Joanna said. She was another intern Michael had hired eight months ago. She was almost done getting her degree and once she was finished, he was going to make her an offer to stay. He liked how she was always one step ahead.
Eddie, Together’s IT Director, spoke up. “The bigger picture is I don’t think people mind wasting time if they have the hope they are going to find a partner. Be that a single date, the long haul, what have you. Maybe we intercept the folks who want a quick date or two from the massive amounts of people looking for their one true love?”
“Eddie, that’s not a bad idea. Basically, we could pinpoint what they are looking for, short-term or long-term and for those seeking short-term, we could somehow make the results quicker to go through. Maybe shorten the list.” List was what they all called the application page for those posting their profile, as well as what browsers saw when looking for a potential. Their list of themselves. He always admired how technology sandwiched one’s life into a half-page box. Even a portable hard drive. Or the Cloud. Thirty-three years of life stuffed into a five-by-four-inch plastic box – stuffed for eternity into an invisible Cloud.
He enjoyed their brainstorming sessions and always liked listening to everyone’s thoughts and ideas. There was never a day that he wasn’t intrigued with all the possibilities his team could come up with, but this morning he was getting antsy. The gala was tomorrow night; he wasn’t sure if his date would actually show up. He didn’t know if she would look anything like the pictures she had posted. Of course, he damn well didn’t want to see Mindy at the gala. Add to all of that the fact that he never worked out that morning, and missing his workout was the cherry on top of all the minor unknowns.
He liked knowing. Of being sure what was what and doing what he did, hell, it had left him in an out-of-control state, and he did not like it.
Once the meeting was over, he made his way to his office wishing there were another route so he could avoid having to pass by his secretary’s desk. Michael knew she was on the lookout for him. He was surprised she hadn’t texted him while he sat in the meeting. His grandma was balls to the wall, a hustler. She wouldn’t rest until she knew exactly what he was up to. A hustler by nature and a tiger when it came to him. She’d drag anyone through the gates of hell just to make sure her grandson was happy.
At seventy-eight years old, she should retire. Michael paid her extremely well, but that wasn’t what kept her around. She was great at what she did. Regina was one of the few people in her late seventies who was in the know about current technology. In fact, he was sure she had more apps on her smart phone than he did. Shit, she might be signed up on Together for all he knew. He made a mental note to ask her about that.
Thankfully she wasn’t at her desk, so he was in the clear for now. He barely had time to sit at his desk before he heard Regina.
“Tell me what you did? Did you sign up?” She barged through his door a moment later without knocking. So much for being in the clear.
“I’m glad we have boundaries. You know, I run this company, you should really show me more respect.”
“Get over yourself, cowboy. I’m not leaving until you tell me. Besides, I’m working here until I die because it gives me something to do, so you might as well spit it out.”
He suppressed an eye roll. “Yes. I signed up. In fact, I’ve already spoken to her.”
Regina clasped her hands together. “Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”
He leaned back in his chair. “There’s not a lot to tell. I signed up. I used a fake photo, and she happened to be online. If she goes through with this, great. If not, I will attend alone. I’ve already decided that. Once I pick her up—if she is where she said she’d be—I will explain everything to her and go from there.” Michael figured there was no point in going into detail about the background check he’d yet to receive from Aslan. There were some things a grandma didn’t need to know.
“Is she gorgeous?”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course she is gorgeous. The most beautiful one the database matched me with. Well, assuming her pictures aren’t fake. Now, Regina, will you please leave me alone and get out of my office?” Michael thought of something at the last second. “Oh, wait, one thing I wanted to ask you, are you signed up on Together yourself? Are you dating, Regina?”
“Why, Mr. Vilander, I think those questions could be considered on the verge of sexual harassment.”
He rolled his eyes as she smiled in triumph and all but ran out of his office. Was that a yes? He shook his head. Damn, he loved that woman. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her in his personal business. Without her, his dick would shrivel up and be useless. Although, he would never tell her that. She was the one who constantly reminded him there was a life out there, and it didn’t always have to be all work and no play. Following that advice…well, that was a different thing.
More often than not those types of women weren’t the kind of women he wanted to sit at a dinner table with his parents and Regina. So there he sat, trying to find a low-key-kind-of-woman on his website instead of hittin
g up Cole or Zander to find him one to play with. Playing was all sorts of fun and thanks to Mindy, that was all he was ever going to do with a woman.
Ever.
Chapter Two
Valentine’s Day had never been lucky for her. What made her think it would be any different this time? Sophia had spoken to Clint a few more times throughout the day, exchanging cell phone numbers and confirming what time he was going to pick her up the following day. Valentine’s Day. Ugh. She hoped it was going to be a good day. She always had far more pressing matters to deal with than looking for a date for Valentine’s Day in the past – paying bills and putting food on the table for her grandmother and herself. She hadn’t been on a date on Valentine’s Day since Lance Walcott when she’d just turned twenty-two. That had been a disaster. She’d met him at Molly’s wedding, and he had seemed like a decent guy at the time, so when he called her a month or so later and asked her out, she gladly accepted.
He hadn’t thought ahead to make dinner reservations, so they’d ended up waiting for two and a half hours to get into a restaurant he just had to eat at. Then he had the nerve to blame her for not making them, because that was a woman’s job, according to him. Halfway through dinner—dinner they’d waited almost three hours for—he had to leave because something was messing with his allergies.
Yeah. Valentine’s Day wasn’t something Sophia celebrated on a regular basis.
Never, in fact. She celebrated it never.
Maybe when she had a good night from tips, she’d splurge and buy her grandmother a rose. Even though her grandmother deserved so much more than that. But Sophia’s inner-voice was always reprimanding her for what her money could be going to: food, bills, any extra care items her grandmother might need.
When she heard the quick knocking on her front door, she made her way down the hallway of her small apartment and stared through the peep hole.
A very tall man in a suit, that looked nothing like Clint’s profile picture stood on the other side holding two rectangular-shaped boxes. What was he doing? No one ever delivered packages here. Were they for her? The bottom one was blue with an even darker thick blue ribbon around it and the smaller box on top was baby-girl pink.
Curiosity got the better of her.
“Can I help you?” she asked loudly through the door.
“Here for a delivery. For Ms. Sophia Baldwin.”
“From who?”
“There is a card attached, ma’am. I’m not at liberty to say. I have very clear instructions to give the items directly to Ms. Baldwin.”
Sophia opened the door, slowly, a little leery about opening her door to the larger-than-life man. “I’m Sophia.”
“Here you go.” He moved his arms out for Sophia to take the boxes and after a slight hesitation, she proceeded to grab the boxes from him.
“Thank you.”
“No problem, Ms. Baldwin. Have a good night.”
Once inside, Sophia set the boxes on her bed. Her heart beat frantically wondering what was inside the luxurious-looking boxes. The boxes alone looked like they belonged somewhere far more fancy than her place. The boxes. The delivery guy was right though. Atop the small box was an envelope addressed to her. Her name written in beautiful script she’d never had the luxury of seeing. With trembling fingers, she retrieved the envelope and opened it, pulling out the small card.
Please allow me the pleasure. For the gala. Estwd5280
Holding the card to her chest, she took in a deep breath before gingerly setting it down on her bed. She pulled the lid off the top of the first box and gasped at the contents. Shoes. Not just any kind of shoes, but stilettos. At least a mile high. The entire stiletto was decorated in tiny white crystals that dazzled against the light. The red sole finish complemented the crystals, which made the shoes look breathtaking instead of obnoxious or gaudy. These were for her? Even though her name was on the envelope, it seemed too good to be true. Which, in her life meant that it was too good to be true.
She set the shoe back into the satin blanket along with its mate and opened the second box. Unfolding the ivory satin cloth, her breath caught in her throat as she surveyed the contents. Delicate sleeves and plunging neckline. A dress. Which was beyond beautiful. She reached in and fingered the delicate fabric, almost too afraid to withdraw it from the box. She’d never seen anything like it. Fancy. Vibrant in color. Decadent. Sexy, even. She held her breath as she pulled the gown from the box. It was a deep burgundy, the spaghetti straps were sewn with the simple, yet elegant detail of the stunning organza fabric.
The entire top portion of the dress showcased tiny glass beads, creating quite the dimensional design along the front, which dipped low into a V-neck. The detailing went all the way to the bottom of the dress, leaving only small areas of fabric peeking out of the millions of beads. Especially where the fabric floated in waves and she could already imagine how the fabric would sashay to the front and back and side to side, as she walked.
“Oh, my gosh,” Sophia exclaimed. There was nothing she wanted more than to try the dress on, even if it was admittedly more than she could ever afford. Even so, she shed her clothes.
As she shimmied into the burgundy cloth, luxuriating in its cool touch against her skin, she once again sent a silent thank you to her mystery date. During their chat, he never once mentioned he would be sending over anything – let alone something as elegant and extravagant as these two items. The fabric skimmed along her ankles and clung to her hips and breasts. Nothing too slutty and yet still showcased her finer assets. Much like she imagined, she sashayed over to her full-length mirror to take in the dress.
Turning slightly, she gasped at how the dress hugged her backside. The cutout that showcased most of her back and spine, was set like a picture in a frame with the way the fabric crawled around her shoulder blades and lower back.
She slipped on the shoes and was surprised to find that they fit just as perfectly as the dress. How had one man she’d yet to meet in person, gotten this right? She was Cinderella. She knew. She knew there would never be another moment in her life except for maybe her wedding one day, that she would look and feel as amazing as she did now.
She ran down the hall. “Grandma, look at the dress he sent! Who does that?”
Her grandmother opened her eyes, from her prone position on the bed. Her eyes lit up the second she eyed Sophia. Sophia’s heart clenched as her grandmother took a sip of water from her straw. “You’re so beautiful. Your date sent that to you?”
“I know, I couldn’t believe it either. It’s amazing.” Sophia spun in a quick circle, too excited to go slow. “I better go change. I don’t want to ruin anything.”
Sophia pranced down the hall and gently removed her heels and dress, and stowed them both away for safe keeping in the closet before she sent Clint a message thanking him for the dress. How did you know what size I wore? She’d asked, but she never got a response.
She wasn’t nervous about attending the gala and couldn’t figure out why. She’d never been to anything like this in her life so she should be running for the hills. If the social columns were anyplace to trust, the gala was the highlight as one of Denver’s annual fundraising events. If you were in any social circle in the city, chances were you were attending the gala.
Sophia versed herself on the importance of the event. Not only did the Art Foundation support disadvantaged youth, they offered art classes to men and women of all ages, as well as to people with special needs. That was probably how she and Michael got matched on Together, as one of her hidden talents was oil painting on canvas. If anything, at least they would have art in common, and if the night turned south, they’d have that to talk about. He never actually specified how he was involved with the Art Foundation, but she assumed it was through volunteer work as their website stated how important volunteers were to their mission.
When Sophia perused the photos that were online, taken from last year’s Valentine’s event, she’d seen all the big names: Cecilia Ca
rtwright, creator of Denver Living magazine, Cole Carrington, owner of Deluxe Posh, which owned a multitude of name brand clothes, designer handbags and any other accessory a woman with money could ever need. His “confidant, Michael Vilander was also in attendance, with Mr. Vilander playing a major part in the Art Foundation’s success.”
The photographer had done a great job. The men, standing side-by-side, looked ready to conquer the world. Both men were alluring in their individual ways. Cole Carrington’s hair was a lighter shade of brown than Michael’s. He had a sharp nose and pointed jaw, with a thin strip of facial hair that covered his jawline. His eyes, a striking virescent tone with a bottomless quality, made her briefly question why he looked so sad.
Michael Vilander, on the other hand, looked amused and in Sophia’s opinion, was the sexier of the two men. Bushy dark eyebrows, matching dark hair that was trimmed close to his neckline, and lips—lips that could only be described as pretty—had her zooming in on his perfect profile. Both men were downright sexy. Men who were too far up from her social class. The column labeled them as two of the five classic billionaires. A group of men who’d found their fame and fortune by regular ole money making ways. Michael Vilander by creating and being the current CEO of Together.com and Cole, of course, as the CEO and creator of Deluxe Posh. The article went on to mention how all the big wigs who owned hotels downtown had shown up too, but Sophia couldn’t stop thinking of the sexy two friends.
Well…maybe she was a little nervous.
She ran back down the hallway. “Grandma. I looked the event up on the internet. It’s supposed to be a real fancy deal. I can’t believe I’m going to this. Oh, my gosh. I hope I don’t get stood up.”
Her grandma smiled, lines of wisdom crinkled around her eyes. “That dress wasn’t a gift from someone that is accustomed to standing people up.”
Nothing But Trouble Page 3
