“Oh grandpa, you’re full of shit,” Ace chuckled, then added, “Exactly what is it that we are looking for in a girl?” He added emphasis on the ‘we’.
“A girl who can think for herself, and not those airheads you’ve introduced me to. Someone who will love you for who you are and not the number of zeroes in your bank account.”
The veracity in the old man’s words stung. His former girlfriends had expensive tastes. Vacations in the Maldives, jewelry, couture clothes, and cars - he always picked up the tab.
With the tension between them gone, old man Masterson beckoned his grandson near. “Ace, listen to me. I love you. You are my only heir. With your parents gone, I saw you grow up to become who you are today. A family will only make you stronger. I started Masterson’s conglomerate from nothing. It’s my legacy to you. Protect that legacy and pass it on to your children.”
Ace drew an audible sigh and replied, “I know grandpa. I love you too. I have a meeting at the office,” he added, before giving the old man a peck on the forehead.
Ace prepared to leave when the old man called out, “Better hurry with the search for the perfect wife. I may die tomorrow.”
“Sure! You’ll probably outlive us all, you wily bastard.” Ace replied, as the old man cackled with laughter.
The rest of Ace Masterson’s day was full. He managed a meeting with his top executives, a lunch with a prince from Saudi Arabia interested in buying his aviation company in Jeddah, another meeting with a senator, and closed a deal for a tract of land in India.
He returned to the main office ready to call it a day. A couple of checks needed his signature and Sienna’s note explained it was for the laid off personnel in a downtown office. He grabbed a decanter from a nearby console and poured himself a shot of brandy before signing the checks. All were payable to unfamiliar names. He recalled a memo about cutting the secretarial pool.
“This must be it,” he contemplated.
“I wonder if it’s too late for a booty call.” Ava, a girl he met in a bar said to call anytime he felt lonely.
“Shit, I’m not even in the mood.”
He powered on his Mac, deciding to check his emails. He had over 20 unread messages in his inbox. He scrolled through the names deciding there was nothing urgent that he couldn’t deal with tomorrow. He scrolled to the last email and saw it was from a Miranda Benson.
He didn’t know her, but the name sounded familiar. He clicked the inbox and was surprised to read the first line: Dear Mrs. Ann Mason.
“What the fuck…”
The email wasn’t for him; the sender had typed the wrong address. He wanted to ignore it but curiosity got the upper hand. She sounded distraught, probably the reason for the mix-up of names. Something clicked inside his head as he reached over and rifled through the checks he signed. There was one payable to Miranda Benson.
Ace leaned back on his swivel chair. The glow from the computer illuminated his good-looking face. He felt bad about the woman’s predicament. She sounded like a devoted mom, and spirited enough to coax her supervisor to plead her case. Her email was concise and clear.
“An intelligent woman my grandfather would approve of.” Then, “What if…”
He clicked on the Mac, in search of Mastersons’ personnel database. He entered Miranda Bensons name and drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently. The Mac blinked, then pulled the woman’s image from its vast memory.
Miranda had a long face and wide jaw line, a broad and beautiful smile that enhanced the attractive face. The distance between her hazel eyes was wide, making them a prominent feature. Her reddish brown hair was tied back, with loose bangs framing her face.
“I wonder how she would look naked, with that hair hanging freely over her shoulder.”
Ace shrugged the notion away but an idea hurtled through his brain. If it worked, Grandfather Masterson would hand over control of the company and Miranda Benson would be in a better position to keep her daughter.
***
Miranda reported for work the next day and headed straight for Ann Mason’s office. She tossed and turned all night debating if the email had been a bad call. Yesterday she was both panicked and desperate. Today she was just worried about Ann’s reaction. She prayed Ann understood her predicament as she headed directly to the woman’s cubicle.
“Ann, about the email...” Miranda began.
“Miranda,” Ann spoke simultaneously, “I was about to call for you.”
Miranda was relieved. Ann had read the email and seemed okay.
“About the email, I wanted to explain…”
“What email?” Ann asked. “I haven’t gone through my inbox yet. But that’s not why you’re here. I got a call from HQ. You are needed at the penthouse. Look for Sienna, she’ll take care of you.”
“What? Why?” Miranda asked, taken aback. Ann looked at her like she was an idiot. Anyone else would swoon at the chance, but Miranda looked ready to flee.
“I don’t know why. I just follow orders like you do.” Ann retorted.
In less than an hour, Miranda found herself in front of Mastersons’ Conglomerate. The gold, glass and chrome façade, customized with suspended planters, was its own version of subdued affluence. It wasn’t hard to imagine the wealth that poured into its various organizations.
Sienna met her at the lobby and led her to a room that was bigger than her entire office. She sat, feeling like an intruder and regretting turning down the offer of a drink. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Miranda fidgeted, running a sweaty palm through her hair; her throat burned as she ran a tongue across dry lips. She kept an eye on the door, wallowing in the tension. She could still make a run for it, but then she’d never know why she was summoned in the first place.
The door opened and Miranda gawked. The billionaire CEO and ruler of this empire approached, clutching a manila envelope, his free hand outstretched for a handshake. “Miss Benson, I’m…”
“…Ace Masterson,” Miranda squeaked, taking the outstretched hand. “I know who you are. Technically, you’re my boss.”
“Can I offer you anything before we begin?”
“The girl, err-your secretary, offered me a drink earlier. I’m sorry I declined because I’m nervous being here and feel like peeing. I don’t know why I got summoned. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong and I’m being cut from the secretarial pool which really sucks. A glass of water would be great.” Miranda blathered.
Ace smiled. She was a bundle of nerves; an effect he had on most women. Who could blame her?
Ace was Hollywood drop-dead gorgeous. His pictures didn’t do him justice. His hair was short in a perfect French crop, complementing the five o’clock shadow on a perfectly squared jaw. He didn’t forget to shave. This was designer stubble at its sexiest. Animal magnetism sluiced from every pore.
“Would you like to use the bathroom before we begin?” he asked kindly.
Miranda jumped at the opportunity and, once alone, chastised her reflection in the mirror. “You’re acting like an idiot.”
Summoning a level of poise that she hardly possessed, Miranda emerged and immediately gulped down a glass of water too quickly, drowning herself in the process. She coughed wildly as Ace handed her a box of tissues.
“I’m sorry…” she apologized, turning crimson.
“Miss Benson…may I call you Miranda? I called you here to offer you a job.” He announced.
“B-b-but I thought I was getting fired,” she stuttered, then “Really?” in voice two octaves higher. How on earth did that happen?
“Yes, really,” he answered lightly, “But I need to know some things about you.”
Miranda nodded effusively as she controlled the urge to whoop. Had she known, she would have prepared a CV. “Please feel free to ask,” she replied, eagerly.
“You’re a single mom caring for your daughter, right?” Miranda nodded, wondering how he knew.
“You are not getting spousal suppo
rt and your only means of income is your job as secretary?”
“Yes,” she replied, embarrassed.
“Do you have a boyfriend, or anyone special in your life right now?” Miranda shook her head slowly, wondering where this was going.
Doesn’t he want to know how fast I can type?
“Are you having sex with anyone on a regular basis?”
“No!” she sputtered, “I mean…I hardly have time for my daughter. A man would just be a distraction.” Miranda wondered if this was the interview or he was just plain nosy.
“Would you like to get married again someday?”
“When the right man comes along,” She answered honestly.
“Could you describe your ideal husband?”
Miranda was baffled by all these unorthodox questions, but decided to humor him. Bottom-line, he was the CEO and intended to give her a job.
“He should learn to love my daughter, and should respect me as a partner. He must be capable of working hard to secure a stable future for us as family. He would never cheat on me because I never will.”
Miranda saw approval in his eyes, although she wondered if telling him she could type 75 words per minute would sway the odds in her favor.
“One last question. Would you agree to marry someone that you’ve just met for the first time?”
“NO! That would be idiotic.” Miranda felt she had extended him enough courtesy to warrant an explanation. “Mr. Masterson, what’s all this about?”
Ace leaned back and deliberated. “What I’m about to offer you may sound crazy, but please hear me out and let me explain,” he said.
Miranda’s superficial composure turned to embarrassment when Ace described reading the email meant for Ann Mason. “I’m really sorry…” she started to apologize.
He flashed his palm, gesturing her to stop. She listened on and hardly believed her ears when he detailed the rest of his story. Miranda gaped at him, shocked beyond belief.
“You want me to marry you?” she asked, horrified.
“Call it a marriage of convenience. It’s a business deal. I’ll pay generously for your time. When my grandfather hands me the deed to the company, we’ll get a quickie divorce and you’ll have enough money to keep your daughter.”
“Don’t you have a girlfriend to do that with?” It was indiscreet, and Miranda regretted asking.
“Not at the moment,” Ace replied, seemingly unperturbed. “You’re different from any of my girlfriends he’s met. Grandpa was never predictable and that’s why I think he might believe that I’ve fallen for you. We can say it was a whirlwind romance. We met and fell in love.”
Ace’s enthusiasm for the plot was infectious. “Please say yes,” he begged, “You’ll help me and I’ll help you with your dilemma. I think this is a win-win for both of us.”
“THIS is such a ideal situation. Being married to Ace would mean that James can’t threaten me about Sadie anymore…and marriage with a sexy man like Ace is the wildest thing that could ever happen to me. It will be over soon and it will all be okay for everyone. I’m crazy if I say no.” she reminded herself.
“Okay! I say yes.” Miranda agreed, feeling secure for the first time.
***
Miranda knew deceiving the head of a conglomerate wouldn’t be child’s play. The old man may be senile, but he was not a fool. Ace suggested spending time together- a lot of time together- “business meetings” he called them, to become familiar with one another. The only rules were honesty, no holds barred, and no judgment.
Miranda volunteered information about her past, nothing was spared, even her first kiss and the first man she ever made out with. She even answered Ace’s probing questions about bra size and her favorite sexual positions. Questions about married life and divorce were difficult; Ace seemed to notice, dropped the prying and moved on. Miranda came to know about his shenanigans with past girlfriends, the lavish gifts, his wealth and travels, and his consuming passion for the company.
Ace was introduced to Sadie, and was smitten.
As days passed, familiarity blossomed between them, anchored on a common need. They had to convince the old man they were in love.
“I think we’re ready to meet my grandpa,” Ace announced inside the car, before dropping her off at her apartment.
“NO! I don’t think I am,” Miranda replied with horror.
“You are. The sooner we get that done, the sooner we can plan for the wedding.” He replied.
“What if he thinks I’m a fraud? Is there something more I should do?” Miranda asked.
“There is. You once said you’ll never fall in love again. Your experience with James has soured you to love. You have to forget that now and act like you’re in love with me. We are comfortable with one another, but you need to be at ease when I hold your hand or put my arms around your shoulder or kiss you. That’s what lovers do, isn’t it?”
Miranda was flustered about the kissing part because she couldn’t deny she had often wondered about that. Ace moved closer and slid an arm across the back of her seat. Miranda felt her cheeks burn. “What are you thinking right now, Miranda?”
“What it would feel like to be kissed by you,” she answered honestly, lowering her head.
He pushed the weight of her hair away from her shoulder, feeling the warmth at the nape of her neck. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said. His thumb stroked her cheek as he leaned in, closing the distance between them and brushing her lips with his.
Miranda felt the tension between them as she reached out a hand to caress the shadowy stubble across his jaw. She smelled the brandy in his breath and felt intoxicated. She saw desire spring into his hooded eyes and felt his arm slide down the small of her back. She closed her eyes as he kissed her gently and then with ever increasing pressure. Miranda wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring the warning in her ear.
“Remember this is just make-believe.”
Miranda felt his heart racing against hers. She moaned softly in his mouth as his fingers caressed the small indentation in her collarbone. She was eager for more and gave a small cry when he suddenly drew away.
“See, I knew you were ready.” Ace smiled.
“You asshole, you were playing me?” Miranda was aghast.
“I’ve always wanted to kiss you. You’re a desirable woman and I doubt, as you fear, that my grandfather will have misgivings about you and me.”
“…I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” The words sounded so good, they made her giddy. And for a make-believe relationship that was dangerous territory.
***
Miranda dreaded the meeting with old man Masterson more than anything in the world.
“Are you sure he knows we’re coming?”
“Yes, along with a huddle of lawyers who will give you the third-degree.”
“What?” She replied in horror, not realizing he was teasing. “You idiot,” she remarked, catching on.
“Mommy, it’s not nice to call people names,” a tiny voice called from the backseat. Ace had proposed the wild idea of bringing Sadie along.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She apologized.
“Mommy is just nervous about meeting grandpa.” Ace informed Sadie.
“Mommy said he might not like her. But that’s okay coz you like mommy, don’t you?”
“Yes Sadie, I like mommy very much,” Ace replied, glancing at Miranda meaningfully. He squeezed her hand lightly. “You’ll be okay,” he assured her.
Ace was right. The old man looked imposing, even seated on a wheelchair with a blanket covering his emaciated legs. Miranda realized his irascible veneer stemmed from ennui being confined to a chair. He must have been physically powerful when he was younger; but what the years couldn’t diminish was the astuteness as he studied her and Sadie.
“Grandpa, this is Miranda.” Ace introduced her.
Miranda approached cautiously. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Masterson.”
He said nothing, and scru
tinized her face. Miranda wanted to look away in embarrassment. Then his frown turned into a huge beam. Miranda smiled in relief.
“And who is this angel? She is a vision and I’m already dead.” Grandpa Masterson said, looking at Sadie who smiled and tolerated him taking her on his knee. The old man was captivated. The rest of the visit was a breeze as Miranda and Ace faked affection with soft caresses and meaningful glances.
“We should hold the wedding here, and it should be as grand as your mom and dad’s wedding.” Masterson announced.
“We were thinking of a simple wedding…” Miranda asserted, the words trickling off as the old man glowered. “We haven’t discussed a date yet,” Ace added.
“Make it soon” grandfather commanded, “and I want you all to move back here with me. This house is too big for me and the fresh air will do the child good.”
“Shouldn’t we be asking my future wife what she thinks?” Ace asked.
The old man glared at Miranda. How could she argue? Every fiber in her body was commanding her to say yes.
“Of course,” she squeaked helplessly
***
Miranda had a glimpse of the affluence and power behind the Masterson name during the wedding preparations. Ace assigned an entourage catering to her needs as the bride-to-be. From the flowers flown from Amsterdam, the menu and wine accompanying each course, to the wedding dress that was specially made by a designer in Paris, and the rock on her finger, Ace never missed a beat.
She was upset over the exorbitant sum spent on a deception.
“Do you really think my grandfather won’t speculate if I started saving pennies? I used to give away expensive cars to former girlfriends. Never underestimate him. He’s got his eyes on us,” Ace replied.
Miranda decided that if this were to be the only fairytale wedding she’d ever experience in her life, then she would savor every moment.
However, she was unprepared for the flood of emotions when the day arrived. A coterie of manicurist, hairstylists and two make-up artists fawned and fussed over her. “Does it really take so many people to make me look pretty for my wedding day?” She wondered.
The designer of the dress held the gown over her head as she slipped into it. He took her hand and led her to a full-length mirror as a string of ‘ohhs’ and ‘ahhs’ followed her. Miranda knew she had to look good. These people assisting her were experts in their field. She saw her reflection for the first time and gasped.
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