At the top floor, she stepped off the elevator and headed for the executive suite. Ten o’clock. Both her dad and Ozzie were probably in some meeting. One she’d love to sit in on. Although she could see the value of working her way up through each department of the company, she really wanted to be in on the big decisions. Be there when the decision was made, then follow it as the decision filtered through the company.
Time. She had to put in her time, as Dad reminded her every so often. New kid on the block and all.
Thinking of what it would be like to sit at Mrs. Cuthbert’s desk, she pushed through the glass door into the outer office where the steel-curled older woman ruled. Behind her stood the double doors to Dad’s office. Ranged around to her left and right were the doors to the offices of the various VPs and Directors. Each one had an assistant at a desk guarding their doors. Ozzie’s office was to the left of her father’s. He alone shared the services of Mrs. Cuthbert and her junior assistant with Dad. Which made sense with Dad getting ready to turn the reins of the day to day management of the company over to Ozzie.
Of course, before Birdie took over Mrs. Cuthbert’s job upon her retirement, she had several months of sitting in this outer office ahead of her. Hours where she’d learn the power behind the power. Because everyone knew it was the executive assistant who really ran the show.
Mrs. Cuthbert looked up and smiled. “This is a nice surprise. What have you got there?”
Birdie held up the envelopes. “One for the old man and one for the stuffy one.” She nodded at Oswald’s closed door.
“Oh he’s not stuffy,” Mrs. Cuthbert, a woman who could send executives running with one sharp look, practically gushed. “He’s a gentleman of the old school.”
Birdie bit her lip to keep from smiling too much. “Are they in? These say hand delivery on them.” As if all letters weren’t hand delivered in some way.
“They’re in your father’s office. Let me see how deep they are.” Mrs. Cuthbert picked up her phone. “Sir, there’s a beautiful young lady here to see you both. Shall I send her in?” The older woman smiled at Birdie and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Birdie thanked her, then turned the knob on her father’s door and entered his spacious office. Very modern, it had lots of glass and chrome. Leather chairs and a sofa. His desk was something of an antique, large, heavily carved walnut, but it worked within the modern décor somehow. Even Meilin had commented on it once.
Both her father and Ozzie stood. Dad came out from behind his desk and greeted her with a hug. “This is a lovely surprise. Can you stay a bit and join me for lunch?”
“Sorry, but I was tasked with making this delivery and then I have to go back.” Although lunch with Dad sounded wonderful. She held out the envelopes, handing Ozzie his and the other to her father. Her gaze snagged on Ozzie’s, and she had to fight the urge to lean into him for a kiss. One her mouth hungered for to the point she had to swallow back, hard, on the desire to touch him.
Dad barely glanced at his note. “Some charitable gig, no doubt. Can you stick this in your bag and take it home to Mum with you tonight?”
Birdie dragged her attention off Ozzie’s mouth and somehow managed to shrug casually. “Does that mean I can open it?”
Dad laughed. “Sure, but if it’s an invite to a charity thing, then you’re stuck going with us. If Mum says it fits into her calendar.”
Shaking her head, she kissed him on the cheek and headed out. It was no secret he’d happily turned the social events calendar over to her mom the minute they married. Mrs. Cuthbert was a little relieved too. One less thing to track other than to note it on her calendar simply to remind him. She also had everyone’s birthdays noted, as well as anniversaries and every other family event to be followed religiously.
* * * *
Oswald tapped the envelope he held in one hand against the palm of the other. An odd chill ran down his spine. After last week’s dinner with Deirdre, when he’d told her—again—they were basically through, she’d promised to behave. Then to turn around and send out an invite so soon. He smelled something fishy and it wasn’t the Thames.
“What’s the invite for, since I sent mine off with Birdie.”
Oswald tore open the envelope and extracted the card. “Charity event to raise funds for refugees,” he told Court. “Saturday night, so RSVPs are due immediately.” The handwritten note at the bottom of the card made it plain Dee expected him to be her escort. As hostess, she was practically required to have one, and she’d chosen him. Lucky him. Not.
“Excellent. Not that I like these things.” Court moved back behind his desk and settled in his chair. “Randi and I have been looking for a way to start easing Birdie into society. Since we won’t be around much the next year, this is as good as any.”
Oswald nodded and settled in his chair once more.
“You’re frowning,” Court said.
Oswald sighed. “Dee has pretty much demanded my services as escort for the evening.”
“Damn. I was going to ask you to escort Birdie. It would make a grand entrance for her, rather than being third wheel with her parents.” The look he gave Oswald was bright with hope.
This required some thinking. What was Dee’s angle? Was she trying to prove to him she still had him in her grip? If he showed up with Courtney on his arm, what would be the long range impact? Would there be one? Would Dee finally give up her campaign to cut off his balls? Not that she’d ever be anywhere near them again. “Since I’m trying to disassociate myself from Deirdre, if Courtney would agree to be my date, it would help Dee see I’m serious. I explained it to her last week, but you know how she gets an idea in her head…”
Court laughed. “Yes, I do. Remember the time she tried to latch on to Drew? Thank God we had the excuse of sending him overseas. Not sure he would have survived otherwise.”
Oh yes, he remembered. Drew had nearly been in a panic, or as much a one he could ever be in. Deirdre had a reputation as a man-eater for good reason, and Oswald had warned Drew. Maybe a little too forcefully.
Time to spill his true worry. “I’m a little concerned she’d find a way to take out her frustration on Courtney, to tell you the truth. She’d have a hard time discrediting me, socially, but Courtney is a new face.”
“Despite her being my daughter, and me being one of Deirdre’s larger contributors?” Court’s raised brow indicated he thought Dee wouldn’t sink so low. “Would she really cut off her nose to spite her face? I mean, if she attempts to ostracize my daughter, my family, in any way, surely she realizes what it could cost her? Portman-Wrights are fairly new to the society, relatively speaking, and their wealth doesn’t compare. She wouldn’t risk pissing me off, would she?”
Then again, Court didn’t know Dee like Oswald knew her. She might very well find a way to publically humiliate Courtney. But if he were at Courtney’s side the entire night, he could protect her, not only from Dee, but from any of the stags in attendance who would love to turn Courtney’s head.
“Let me think this through.” Oswald tossed the invitation down on Court’s desk. “I’ll need to speak with her personally no later than this evening. She’ll need time to find another escort, since as hostess she must have one. Then again, even if she wasn’t the hostess, she’d feel off-balance without some man dancing attendance on her.”
Court laughed. “True. Well, let me know what you decide. In the meantime, we have real business to get back to.”
An hour later, meeting over, Oswald gathered his papers and tablet. The invitation rested on top.
“Let me know what you decide on that,” Court said. “If you choose to invite Birdie, we’ll have you over for dinner tomorrow night.”
Oswald looked up in alarm. Invite Courtney on a date in front of her parents?
Court held up a hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll disappear right after dinner, and you can have some privacy to do the asking. I wouldn’t put you on the spot that way.”
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br /> Not much better, but he could work with it. “All right. I’ll let you know after I talk to Deirdre. If I still have an arse left after she chews me out.”
He left Court’s office, nodded to Mrs. Cuthbert, then entered his own office and shut the door. He needed to think about this very carefully. What game was Deirdre playing?
After settling behind his desk, he spun his chair around to look out the window at his view of the Thames and the city on the other side. It was a view he greatly appreciated, but it didn’t encroach on his thoughts at the moment.
A week ago, per Deirdre’s demand, he’d had her over for dinner. The housekeeper had left a green salad, a frittata ready for the oven, and a small cake for dessert. Dee had arrived at seven, dressed for seduction in a red halter dress that clung like a second skin.
Dodging her hints and outright suggestions for how to finish the night, he’d used the table as a barricade of sorts. Although it hadn’t stopped her from running a foot up and down his leg, or touching his hand and running her dangerous nails up and down his arm, it had kept her from crawling into his lap. That was something.
He’d let her have her say, then he’d slowly, systematically, told her in great detail why he’d no longer be at her beck and call. She’d left after coffee, greatly annoyed with him and very frustrated. Interestingly enough, he hadn’t risen to her sexual challenges. Not one stirring after she laid out her best seduction with soft words, teasing touches, and malfunctioning wardrobe. He’d had an eyeful of her generous charms, all seductively presented because Deirdre didn’t get dirty until the clothes actually came off. Very lady like, until the actual act took place, which it hadn’t last week. No, she’d been extremely displeased with him and muttered a few words about how he’d come back to her.
So here was her first volley. An invite cleverly worded to make it clear he was her chosen escort for the evening. Not much chance of him misinterpreting her meaning. And in the past it had been enough. He’d accepted his role with no complaint.
Not this time.
The only question was, how would she make him pay? Would she cut him directly, or be more subtle by taking it out on Courtney? He spent a good hour pondering the methods she might employ, then decided that with him stuck firmly at Courtney’s side, there wasn’t much she could do at the event without making herself look bad in front of their audience.
Well, he wanted to make a break. Here was his chance, presented on a silver platter, or rather, on the cream stationary, hand delivered by Courtney herself.
It was a risk. Deirdre was extremely clever and more than a little spiteful when denied her way. However, he didn’t think Dee would make a public move in front of Court. After all, he usually donated generously to charity, whether invited to the event or not. Deirdre was certainly counting on that. So maybe the risk was minimal.
Decision made, he picked up his phone and dialed her direct line. Best get it done and over with.
Chapter 14
Saturday evening, Birdie felt a little like she was in a fairy tale. Oh sure, she’d dressed up for social events before, but never something along these lines. Deirdre Portman-Wright, serving as her father’s hostess, had opened his Knightsbridge house to a select number of exclusive guests, hoping to get into their checkbooks to support the refugees arriving daily.
It was a huge house. Bigger than the Sussex manor, and certainly a few centuries newer.
That didn’t bother her so much as the fact she was going as Oswald’s date. In his car. Alone. With him. Her parents were also attending the event, but they were going by limo. They’d offered to share, but Ozzie had declined.
He’d come for dinner on Wednesday, and shortly after clearing dessert dishes, her parents had simply disappeared into their rooms. Not a word of explanation, just left her alone with Ozzie, sipping coffee at the dinner table. She’d been lulled into drowsiness with wine and a dram of liquor in her coffee.
He’d cleared his throat, and she looked up to meet his serious gaze. “I have something I want to ask you, Courtney.”
“Okay.” Simple enough. No idea where he was heading with this, but whatever.
“The event on Saturday. The refugee fundraiser.”
She nodded and took a sip of her coffee, letting it rest on her tongue for a minute.
“I’d be honored if you’d attend with me. As my date.”
Surprised, to say the least, she spewed coffee halfway across the table. As she was groping for a napkin and trying to catch her breath, she’d caught the look on his face. Half bemused, half wary.
“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to catch you off guard.” He thrust another cloth napkin at her. A tiny bit of the corner of his mouth ticked up. Great. Someone was amused.
Coughing and trying to wipe everything from her face to the table, Birdie bought herself a few red-faced minutes. Finally she could talk. “Sorry. Wasn’t expecting that.” She coughed again and accepted a refill of her water glass from Ozzie. “You want me to be your date for this charity thing? On Saturday night?”
Ozzie nodded. “If you want to go. I’d like very much to escort you there. Better than going as your father’s second date, and I can introduce you to the people you need to know. Your parents will be glad-handing the same, but it might be less awkward for you to do it with me.”
“Um, well, that makes sense. Sure. I’d be happy to go with you.” She said the words slowly, but the only panicked thoughts that hit her brain had more to do with what to wear rather than going with Ozzie.
A genuine smile touched his face for a blink. “Great. It starts at eight. I’ll join you and your parents for dinner, and from there we’ll go on to the gala.”
“All right. I’m guessing my mother knows what attire is appropriate.” Birdie frowned. “What will you be wearing?”
“A tuxedo. The event is black tie. Let me know if you’ll be wearing red or pink, and I can resurrect one of my vests from the wedding events.”
“Too much like a prom date. I don’t know these events well, but I’m fairly certain we don’t have to match and you aren’t required to buy me a corsage.”
He’d agreed, they’d said good night, and then she’d gone to pound on her parents’ bedroom door and found them oh-so-innocently curled up on a loveseat reading.
The next day she left work early and met her mother at Harrod’s for shopping.
And now here she was, in the low slung seat, riding next to Ozzie, on her way to a fancy event wearing the sexiest dress she’d ever owned. An Alice + Olivia gown, with all-over beading in silver and black with faux jewels in blue on a background of black made for an opulent effect unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was an Art Deco masterpiece. The deep V-neck and back didn’t allow for a bra—thank God she had something to fill the top with—but the slim silhouette with a subtle flare toward the bottom of the floor-sweeping hem was more luxurious than anything she’d ever worn or even dreamed of wearing. She had a black velvet shawl for a cover up. And essential double-stick tape to prevent wardrobe malfunctions.
The whole outfit—dress, shawl, shoes and purse—had cost a bloody fortune. A fact she’d tried to point out to her mother several times. But considering what her mother had bought to wear, a silk dress of bright blue overlaid with beaded black lace, she didn’t have much room to whine. Mom’s dress had three-quarter sleeves, unlike her dress, which practically bared her entire torso.
Still, she knew for sure it was sexy because when Ozzie arrived to meet them for dinner tonight, he’d stopped dead in his tracks while a glazed look had slid down over his eyes. A lapse of only a heartbeat passed before he’d greeted her with a compliment, as smooth as silk.
“Anything special I need to know about tonight?” she asked. While he concentrated on driving, she admired the way the beading reflected the street lights, making her dress look like it was in motion. She was also sure his eyes kept returning to the polished gold locket she wore on an intricate
gold chain, one her grandmother Dailey had given her years ago. Shaped like a fairy tale book with five castle turrets on it, the locket held a picture of her grandmother and a tiny note she’d tucked inside to remind Birdie to follow her dreams. The chain was long enough the locket nestled perfectly in the cleavage on display in the deep V-neck of the gown. The very simplicity of it served to highlight the gown rather than compete with its extravagant design.
“Follow my lead. I won’t leave your side. Smile, be charming, don’t challenge anyone, especially not the women. They’ll be scouting you out. Be enigmatic.”
“Standard party behavior. And I promise not to drink too much or plow through the buffet table.”
Ozzie shot her a smile. “You’ll be fine.”
The smile got to her, as it always did. Mostly because it was so rare, but also because it made his face so much more beautiful. A vision of him without his glasses, or shirt, just as he’d been in her bed in San Francisco, flashed before her eyes and stole her breath. It was so not fair how beautiful he was. Her hands remembered touching his hot skin over hard muscles, and her mouth watered remembering his kiss. Not something she wanted to remember right now when he was so close and looking so good in his formal evening wear.
Swallowing the desire to slide into his lap and kiss them both senseless, she nodded and stared straight ahead through the windshield. If she didn’t look at him too often, she could do this. Hopefully there wouldn’t be dancing, because if he took her in his arms, she’d melt against him and cling like a vine.
There were two lanes in the drive that circled before the big house. One for limos and one for those who drove themselves. A valet opened her door and handed her out while Ozzie took a ticket from another valet. He came around the car, offered his arm to her, and together they dodged the limos and walked up to the open double doors.
Her Improper Affair Page 12
