The Power of Tess

by Angelina J. Windsor

  “Sure, it’s Saturday and I have no classes.” I’m still shaking from signing and need a moment to compose myself. I look away and study the art deco print on the wall closest to me. I follow the swirls of color that form patterns reminding me of the summer I collected seashells at the cottage before everything changed forever. That was the summer before my mom and dad were killed, and my last perfect memory of us all together as a family. Swallowing hard, I pry my mind away from the worst tragedy of my life and look back at my new boss. He’s very, very easy to look at. I wonder what his love life is like. Is he married? He wears no ring, though that means nothing.

  “Summer break is not far away if I’m not mistaken, and then we can get you earning the big bucks. Setting up the auction will take a few weeks and in the meantime, I’ll take you under my wing and be your mentor and coach. We can front you a tidy sum on the basis of what you have just told me, that is if you are willing sanction the lottery. We’ll need a doctor’s confirmation to verify that you are healthy, of course.” He looks up at me after typing in a few words on his keyboard. I feel an unfamiliar stirring in my lower regions as his eyes gaze into mine. They are such a pure blue, like forget-me-nots in summer… Darn, quit daydreaming, Tess. He’s your boss and has already let you know he’s not into you, that it’s against regulations.

  A knock on the door startles me out of my heated thoughts.

  “Come in,” Jonathon says.

  Swiveling my head to the right, I watch a young woman poke her head around the opening. There had been no one at the front desk when I arrived early for my nine o’clock interview.

  “Sean says you’re needed right away.”

  “Thanks, Amanda. Tell him I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  She turns and looks right at me, curiosity written clearly on her pixie-like face. It is attractively surrounded by layers of face-framing, expertly cut, glossy dark hair. She is tiny and cute from what I can see of her halfway behind the door.

  “Amanda, I’d like you to meet Tess. Amanda is both the office assistant and Katherine’s personal assistant.”

  She opens the door further and the tiny bundle of energy strides across the spacious office and holds out her hand. I take it and we briefly shake hands.

  “Nice to meet you, Tess.” She smiles welcomingly and turns toward Jonathon, doing a graceful ballet-like move on her four inch heels. She gives him an even wider smile. It is obvious she has a thing for him but he appears not to notice as he gives her a professional smile in return. She’s dressed beautifully; her cherry-red silk suit hugging her in all the right places and flattering her coloring. I feel dowdy in my sundress.

  “When do you want me to take Tess for her makeover and clothes shopping?” she inquires.

  “I’ll take care of that, Amanda, thanks.”

  Her perfectly manicured eyebrows rose higher. A look I would hazard to call pissed-off passes fleetingly across her face as she digests his words.

  “Okay then. Don’t forget about Sean,” she coolly replies.

  He bites his bottom lip, hesitating a split-second before answering.

  “Thanks, Amanda.” His tone clearly dismisses her and she gives me a quick fake smile and sashays back out the door.

  “Okay, so we’re all set for tomorrow. I’ll pick you up.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll meet you here or at the salon.” The last thing I needed was trying to explain Jonathon to Sally.

  “Your roommate?”

  “I don’t want her getting the wrong impression.”

  “Of course. I would imagine you’ll be getting a place of your own ASAP?”

  “Yes, soon as I can afford to,” I say, surprising myself with my honesty. But the facts are the facts. I’m not here because I’m flush with cash.

  “Would you like me to look around for you? You’ll need a safe haven, a young, beautiful girl like you.”

  He thinks I’m beautiful. The thought makes me happy and I smile. It’s hard to take your favorite grandmother’s word for it though she had always said I favored Grace Kelly. My Gran has a thing for old movies.

  “No, I can manage thanks.”

  “We’re here to help you all we can, Tess. No harm in accepting.”

  “Maybe, but Gran always said that a woman needs to stand on her own two feet before she finds her man.” I’m stunned that I let that drop. I had no intention of mixing my personal life in with this. I look away in dismay and study the art print once more. I decide in the moment that I don’t like it.

  “Sounds like your grandmother was a very wise woman. I was fortunate to have had a special relationship with my grandmother as well.”

  His voice warms with the memory and I turn back and look into those startlingly blue eyes again and my heart sinks. The man’s too darned good-looking for his own good.

  He gets up and comes around the desk and puts his hand out to take mine. I tentatively take it. I feel its warmth all the way down to my curling toes. This has never happened before. And then he leans down and kisses the back of my hand, his warm, full lips sliding enticingly across it. I involuntarily shiver. It was like being wooed by a gentleman, but with a modern twist of danger. No consorting with the boss, I remind myself. Say that over and over ‘til it sticks, Tess.

  “Thanks for giving us a second chance.” His voice is smooth as a river of molten chocolate.

  I can’t get my mind around the words for a second. Then I realize he meant my interview last week.

  “No worries.” I bite my lips. It seems a lifetime before he drops my hand and steps back. I shiver again.

  “Until tomorrow.”

  Chapter Three

  I escape the office and rush by Amanda at the reception desk. She barely has time to look up from her computer screen before I’m through the etched glass door to the hallway that leads from the penthouse to the elevator. The agency occupies the entire top floor with a view to die for, but my mind ignores all this as I push the down button and chew on a fingernail. Stepping into the elevator as soon as the doors slide apart, I wait impatiently for it to descend to the basement parking garage and to the safety of my truck. Charlie, my sixteen-year-old red half-ton, looks wonderful to me today. Quaking inside, I lock the door and put my hands on the steering wheel and rock back and forth. What have I done?

  I sit there waiting until I feel calm enough to drive. I can hear traffic noise in the distance. Rosemère Agency is located downtown in an exclusive high-rent district. It’s a modeling agency—or at least that’s its cover story. My truck looks totally out of place amongst the Lexus and Porsche and other expensive vehicles driven by the executives of the lucrative businesses located in the high rise. I could not care less. Well, I do care most days, just not today on top of everything else.

  Okay. Brace yourself. You have a ton of things to do today and bemoaning your fate is not helping. I turn the key and nothing happens. Crap. Either Charlie’s battery is dead or the starter’s gone. Can I afford a tow? No way is there a service station in this neighborhood. I lean on the steering wheel and inadvertently sound the horn. It startles me and a passerby who looks my way. To my horror I realize it is Jonathon Rothschild. If this weren’t so embarrassing it might make a funny story someday, I think a little hysterically, swallowing hard. I feel crushed by fate as my new boss makes his way over to my window and gestures for me to roll it down.

  “Truck trouble?” he inquires, smiling slightly while I blush to the very roots of my hair. Being a redhead certainly has its drawbacks and blushing is one of them.

  “Uh, yeah, kind of.” Brilliant, I chastise myself.

  “I’ll give you a ride home and send someone out to take care of this. Come, I’ll drop you off.” His imperial command doesn’t sit well with me, but I really have no choice. Also, Sally wouldn’t be home this time of day anyway, so one would be the wiser. And don’t forget you do have a cover story. But it just feels wrong to mislead her.

  He opens the driver’s door and I scoo
t out of the front seat grasping my purse. I trail behind him as he leads the way across the parking garage from the visitors’ section to the tenants’ area and to a black Porsche. With a gentlemanly flourish, he opens the passenger door and I sink into the fine leather seat that emits a lovely new-car smell. It’s light years away from my rudimentary pickup and not nearly as homey, but it does encase me in very comfortable luxury. Jonathon circles the car and slides behind the wheel. The car purrs to life. Over the spectacular sound system a breathtaking piece of music begins playing and cocoons us in a sweet, soulful song of love, loss and yearning.

  He’s removed his jacket at some point and rolled up his white shirt sleeves. His arms with a light dusting of hair shine golden in the sunlight as we exit the garage. He must work out, I muse, noting the cords of muscles that underlie his goldenness. He drives like a machine, all efficiency and grace. I steel myself against the attraction he’s effortlessly eliciting and look instead out the passenger window at the buildings flowing by. He’s just too beautiful and dangerous. I mean, what man would do such a job? Even filling in for his sister doesn’t make it right. I tell myself I should be disgusted with myself at the attraction I’m feeling for him. But since I’ve taken the job I can’t very well judge him either, another part of me points out.

  “Where to, Tess?” I’m startled to realize he’s speaking. I’ve been too deep in thought.

  “Nineteen-hundred Brook Avenue,” I reply, gathering my wits.

  He nods.

  “Does Rosemère’s business model bother you at all?” I ask.

  He gives me a look and asks, “Are you thinking it’s not a gentlemanly business for me to be in?” His voice holds traces of coyness and I can see he’s either teasing me or trying to make light of it.

  I blush, wishing I had kept my mouth shut. Like it or not he will be my boss. Though I could think of other things I’d rather do with him than work for him…

  “I think all people deserve companionship. I’m just helping provide a service for those unable or unwilling to find someone to spend time with. How they spend that time, that’s up to them, as long as they are upfront about what their particular habits are. I judge no one for wanting or needing that. Many of our clients married to have a certain kind of wife and find that their needs are not being met beyond what looks good to the world. Others have not married and have spent their lives chasing the dollar and have had no time to find a companion of their own. That’s where we come in. We provide the best for them. We chose our young women with care so that our patrons can be assured they will have the strictest confidence to enjoy time spent with an intelligent, beautiful partner in utter secrecy. Everyone wins.”

  “You make it all sound so reasonable. Like it should be legal.”

  “What goes on in the bedroom of the nations of the world should be no one else’s concern if it’s consensual, Tess. No one is getting hurt.”

  His smile was candid as his words got me thinking. He reaches over and his hand covers mine on my lap and I feel a spark flare. This truly has never happened to me before—being this affected by a man’s touch. Why him? My heart rate speeds up and I lick my lips nervously.

  “You shouldn’t do that, you know. You’ll dry out your lips. Tomorrow we’ll invest in a good lip moisturizer for you to keep you from needing to do that.”

  He takes his hand away and I breathe easier. He turns the corner onto my street and pulls up in front of our apartment building.

  “I’ll send your truck around soon as it’s repaired. If it’s not ready by morning, I’ll pick you up at the coffee shop on the corner. All right?”

  “Sure.” I scramble to find the door handle but he’s already out and coming round to open it for me.

  Grabbing my purse, I catch a high heel on the car’s door frame and stumble out of the car head first. His hands fasten around my arms, keeping me from face planting into the sidewalk. A soft scent of soap and manly musk stirs my senses. Another first. I have been immune to guys my age, finding them so obviously interested in only one thing. Yeah, like he’s not exactly the same, wanting to use your sexuality, I archly reply to thwart my growing libido.

  “Are you okay?” he asks in a hushed tone and I look deep into his blue eyes. I suddenly want him to kiss me and my lips part at the idea. Lord, but he’s handsome. How can any woman keep her hands off of him?

  “Fine, I’m good,” I manage to say, licking my lips once more and swallowing hard.

  He lets me go and I wish instead that he had kissed me. That it was allowed. I may never get the chance again and I know that would haunt me.

  “See you tomorrow, Tess.” He says it with a whisper of a promise and then he gets in his sleek car and drives off. A certain intimate energy leaves with him and I breathe easier.

  I wonder again if he’s married, and if so, does she know what he does for a living? Not your business, Sunshine, I remind myself. Sunshine was Gran’s favorite nickname for me and it’s what I call myself when I want to stay on course. Well, I’d hardly done that today, I think with a grimace as I head into our borderline-respectable apartment block.

  I find only bills and mailers in our locked mail slot and stuff them absently into my purse and then trudge up the stairs to our third floor apartment. It will be weeks, Jonathon had promised, before I will need to prepare myself to lose my virginity. No need to dwell on it now. However, I will need to contact the hospital to let them know I will have the money, to see if I can make arrangements for payments. I straighten my shoulders, throw the mail on the hall table and get down to the task of cleaning the apartment and preparing dinner. For these services I get the lighter share of the rent and it is more than worth it to me. Every dime counts.

  My cell phone rings and I pick it up while turning down the heat under the chicken I am frying for supper. I had decided on a good Southern meal with all the fixin’s. I need the comfort of home cooking after the strains of this day.

  “Tess, its Jonathon.”

  His low-toned sexy voice comes across the distance and sets my body vibrating. What am I going to do about this thoroughly annoying and unwanted attraction?

  “I found the perfect new apartment for you and wanted to let you know you can move in anytime. I’ll take you there tomorrow after shopping. Please keep your whole day free for me.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” I smile into the phone.

  “Good. See you at ten.”

  “Bye,” I reply, wondering if he gave all the women such close attention. Part of me hopes not.

  Chapter Four

  “Right on time. I like that, Tess.” Jonathon smiles as he joins me at the counter of the coffee shop promptly at ten. He looks so nice today in a pair of much-washed jeans and an open-neck blue shirt that exactly matches his eyes. Much more informal than yesterday’s suit and tie.

  After yesterday’s fiasco I have decided on flats and as I stand up to follow him to his car I notice the large discrepancy in height. He’s a tall man and I’m a petite woman. I don’t mind that at all. It’s a conundrum—a man in a shady business making me feel safe.

  Though worried about Gran, my new job and the auction, I am excited by the idea of getting my own hair color back and having a few new clothes. I’ll ignore the cost of it for now, I decide, crossing my fingers. I’m superstitious—no apology.

  Sliding into the car, I set my purse down at my feet and wait for him to start the Porsche. As it fires to life, strains of the same music from the day before emit from the surround sound and flow around us.

  “The Last Valley’s theme music,” I announce, happy I had found the movie and its soundtrack on an internet search the night before and watched the whole darn thing. Set in the seventeenth century, it told of a mercenary and his men finding an untouched valley that becomes their haven during the Thirty Years’ War. But it had been the love story between Captain Vogel and Erica and its tragic ending that had touched my heart.

  “Yes, Vogel’s piece, when he comes back to t
he valley for the last time to see his Erica. It always blows me away with its pathos. That’s the sort of thing our clients love, Tess, a woman who has an appreciation for finer things.”

  At the mention of “our clients” I clam up and look out the window. I don’t need reminding why I’m here.

  He doesn’t appear to notice and we listen to the song in silence. By the end of it I’m feeling better.

  He pulls up and parks in front of a very exclusive salon that I know caters only to high-end celebrities and my eyes open wider. Holy cow! Will I be getting my hair done here—at Marco’s?

  I turn my surprised expression toward Jonathon and he smiles and nods.

  “Only the best for you, Tess.”

  “Okay, I guess I can manage to pay you back. But only this one time. I can’t afford this kind of place too often.”

  “Today is on the house. No cost to you. Consider it an investment in your future. Oh, by the way, I’ll have your truck delivered when it’s ready. They said in a day or two.”

  “Thanks.”

  Someone inside buzzes the door open, and Jonathon holds the door for me. Will he be staying? I wonder as he goes up to the counter and speaks with the receptionist who smiles brightly at him, twirling her long extensions around her fingers. Okay, I don’t know if her hair is fake, but I find her fawning glances at him through impossibly long eyelashes a bit galling. Can’t she see he’s not alone? You know better, Sunshine. I gulp. Yes, I do Gran.

  “Mr. Marco is ready to see you now, Tess,” she announces as if the king of England has condescended to await my presence.

  I nod and follow Jonathon through a doorway into the back. He’s obviously been here before as the receptionist remains behind.

  “Ah, Jonathon Rothschild, as I live and breathe! So lovely to see you again. And this must be Tess. It will be my pleasure to see to her needs.”