“Daphne, this is one of our most dedicated donors, Alexander Oberon.” Daphne extended her hand and Alexander shook it politely, admiring the professional firmness of her grip but keeping his face blank of all but polite interest. “We love him very much but we’re also very frustrated that he steadfastly refuses to be one of our spokespeople.”
“Oh? What’s holding you back, Mr. Oberon?” Alexander felt himself smiling. He thought to himself that the younger woman was a gambit he could see a mile away. He applauded Amelia for the attempt—he was sure that Daphne’s charms probably worked miracles on plenty of other patrons of the charity.
“I just don’t have very much time to commit, and I made a firm promise to myself that the only cause I’d ever put my name on is my own business.” Daphne’s dark eyes went shrewd, and Alexander fought back the urge to smile. Amelia, having delivered him to his adversary, wandered off to chat up other dignitaries.
“If I remember correctly,” Daphne said, picking up her glass of champagne and sipping it lightly, “you recently inherited your family business—and you have kind of a reputation problem.” Alexander raised an eyebrow at that.
“I’m not aware of any issues that I have with my reputation,” he said firmly. He had to give the woman credit—she went directly for the toughest spot.
“You’re a playboy, a bachelor—not a serious guy, in spite of the fact that you’ve taken good control of your family’s business interests.” Daphne shrugged. “Becoming a spokesperson for a cause that you’re obviously dedicated to will give you some serious credibility.”
“It will dilute my brand,” Alexander said, still smiling slightly. He felt a lingering attraction towards her—but she was not the type of woman who would have a fling and then go quietly onto the next guy, he was sure. If he slept with her, she’d cling. “I appreciate the good work that this organization does, Daphne, but becoming a spokesperson would cut into time that I am already dedicating to things I actually enjoy.” Daphne’s dark eyes peered up into his face.
“You’re serious about helping animals, aren’t you?” The inflection in her voice made it barely a question—she was confirming the fact, not asking.
Alexander shrugged. “It’s a cause that I’m very passionate about.”
Daphne crossed her arms over her chest and Alexander’s gaze went—almost against its will—to the swell of her breasts, the deepening cleavage that the movement caused. But he looked away an instant later, meeting her gaze once more. She probably knew, he thought with a tingle of resentment, that her movement caused exactly that effect and that it was nearly impossible for any heterosexual man not to look.
“If you’re passionate about the cause, why wouldn’t you want to lend your voice to it?” She raised a dark eyebrow. “We appreciate the money you donate to us, but consider that by becoming a spokesperson for our organization, you could generate much more money for us than just your donations.”
Alexander frowned. “These are very good arguments, but they don’t put a dent in the fact that I am disinclined.” He saw a waiter passing through and snagged a glass of champagne from the tray the man was carrying through the ballroom. The waiter paused and Alexander took a second one; he handed the first to Daphne. “Come on now, Daphne. This is supposed to be a fun time, a night out to enjoy some company and conversation.”
Daphne accepted the glass of champagne, putting her empty glass on the tray the waiter offered and sipping her fresh beverage almost begrudgingly. “It’s a fun time for you,” she told him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “For me it’s another night of work—only I get to drink and have some hors d’oeuvres while I do my job.”
“You should loosen up; surely Amelia can’t expect you to sign people up tonight—you have at least until tomorrow to get your new recruits onboard.”
Daphne shrugged. “I’ve gotten two people to be spokespersons for us since the evening started,” she said with what Alexander thought was pardonable pride. “I still don’t understand why you’re holding out so hard.”
“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself,” Alexander suggested, gesturing for Daphne to sit down in a convenient chair. He pulled an ottoman over and seated himself on it, facing her. He wanted more than anything to turn her attention off the cause she was clearly very passionate about, and onto the possibility of flirtation. “You must have graduated pretty recently.”
Daphne’s dark eyes snapped with something akin to irritation. “I graduated two years ago and worked very successfully at a PR firm before coming here,” she told him, her voice barely civil.
“I didn’t mean to offend you—you just look a little young. That can’t be a bad thing, can it?” Alexander turned his most charming smile onto her.
“It can when it makes people who are only a couple years older than me refuse to take me seriously.” Alexander decided that his initial estimation of her had been right—she was not at all the person for him to try and lure back to his bed. He glanced around to see if there was anyone else worth talking to.
“I think you might want to consider not taking yourself so seriously,” Alex said off-hand, barely glancing at Daphne as he tried to discover who had come to the event.
“I’d rather take myself too seriously than have the kind of reputation that’s going to damage the company I work for,” she said tartly. Alexander felt his irritation rising.
“My reputation is not going to do any harm at all to my family’s business,” he told her, setting his jaw. “I am a competent CEO and I have a proven record.”
“You also have competition. When people start thinking you’re not a stable figurehead for your company, the competition will start trashing you—and then you’ll have to fight back.” Daphne shrugged. “Doing a little bit of reputation management right now would do you wonders down the line.”
“Why are you so serious about getting me to become a spokesperson?” Daphne considered the question for a moment. She took a sip of her champagne, licking her lips in a way that sent a jolt through Alexander’s body—though he was fairly certain she didn’t know exactly what effect that little flash of her pink tongue had.
“First of all,” Daphne said slowly, the veneer of charm and determination falling from her face, replaced by a sincere concern and interest, “I care a lot about the welfare of animals. Some of my friends think I’m a hypocrite because I still eat meat.” She shrugged. “I can’t really help that—I tried going Vegan and it was not good for my health.” Alexander smiled slowly; he could relate. He needed an omnivorous diet to maintain his health—the two parts of his essence took up a lot of energy, and both of his forms were omnivorous. Because he was wealthy and because he needed to appease the animal part of his essential nature, he preferred game—especially when he could hunt it himself.
“Second of all,” Daphne continued, “I really love my job. I was lucky to get the job, even with my lack of experience. So I take it seriously. Third of all,” and she flashed him a grin that made Alexander think that perhaps she was not always so serious, “Amelia gave me a challenge. I don’t tend to back down from that.”
“Amelia was probably messing with you,” Alexander said, remembering the other woman’s words to him before she brought him to meet her newest protégé. “She and I have been going back and forth about my unwillingness to become a spokesperson for over a year. You’re not likely to succeed where a year-long campaign failed. I think she just thought a pretty young face…” Alexander shrugged.
“You can’t accuse me of not taking you seriously because you’re younger than I am when I didn’t take Amelia’s bait—she’s almost my mother’s age.”
“Okay. So think about how much it would frustrate her then, if I was the one to convince you instead of her.” Daphne smiled slowly, taking a long sip of her champagne. “After all, if she’s messing with us, a bit of turnabout is only fair.” Alexander shook his head, unable to suppress the chuckle that rose up out of his chest.
“Okay! Okay, fine, you’ve convinced me. It will rehabilitate my image, make me a respectable member of the international community, and it will shut Amelia up on the subject. Where do I sign up?” Daphne’s smile spread, reaching up to her flashing eyes, and Alexander thought that it was almost as good as the look she might give if he managed to convince her to go home with him—almost as good. But he also knew better than to pursue that particular line of thought. Daphne was too intense for him; she would never just let him have a one-night stand.
“Right this way, Mr. Oberon,” she said, gesturing for him to follow her to a table a few yards away, where a few other people were filling out some kind of form. Amelia was standing there, talking to someone else who was filling out the contract to become a spokesperson for the organization; Alexander thought he recognized the man as an actor, though he couldn’t think of any of the movies he might have been in off the top of his head.
When he and Daphne came up to the table, Amelia glanced over—and Alexander had to suppress the laugh that threatened to come out of him at the shock in her eyes. She had never really believed that Daphne would succeed where she had failed; she had just wanted to mess with him, distract him with a pretty girl and then lay into him later with her own attempts to persuade.
Daphne was picking up a contract and explaining it to him, and Alexander turned his attention onto her, smiling to himself. What could it hurt? He was already donating a sizeable amount to the non-profit. The amount of his time that would be taken up by spokesman duties was likely to be minimal. Once he finished up his obligation with Daphne, he would be free to see who might be willing to spend the night with him.
He had the sneaking suspicion that if he didn’t sign up, Daphne would continue chasing him around the room until he did, ruining his chances with any of the women at the gala.
*
Daphne hurried to her desk with her eyes half-closed, wincing at the bright, high-efficiency lights that seemed designed to poke daggers into her brain. She knew she’d had too much champagne the night before; she knew it by the time she was on her third or fourth glass, after Alexander Oberon had wandered off after signing his contract. Why she had let someone talk her into a fifth glass, she wasn’t sure.
She had barely managed to strip out of the gown she’d worn and into a nightgown before she tumbled unsteadily into bed, and when her alarm had gone off at seven in the morning, she buried her face in her pillows as the normally soothing sound she had set for it grated on her ears. Maybe just this once I can call in sick, she had thought to herself, feeling the roiling discontent of her stomach and blindly turning off the alarm by touch.
But if she called in the night after the gala, everyone would know that it was because she’d overindulged. So instead of hitting the snooze button the way she normally did, Daphne pulled herself out of bed through sheer willpower and forced herself into the shower.
The shower didn’t do very much, but it finished off the last of her makeup, leaving her fresh-faced—though red-eyed—and at least smelling clean. Daphne made herself a smoothie, packing as much fruit as she possibly could into the cup, and downed a large glass of water with a couple of aspirin and a Pepto-Bismol tablet.. She skipped her usual coffee, not wanting to challenge an already upset stomach, and drank down the smoothie instead.
By the time she got off the train and made her way to the office building, she was feeling slightly more human; though her head was still foggy and aching, she didn’t think she would hurl on anyone. “Hey, Jackson,” someone called to her. “Amelia wants you in her office as soon as you’re up and running.”
Daphne nodded, gesturing blankly that she understood. She set down her purse and took a deep breath, turning on her computer and trying to shake off the last of her hangover. She had to smile to herself. In spite of her aching head and rocky stomach, she had to feel more than a little proud of the fact that she had managed to catch her first “whale,” Alexander Oberon.
When Amelia had brought Oberon over to her, Daphne had suspected that it was a lost cause situation, that it was one of those opportunities to “sharpen her claws” as Amelia put it. She knew that her boss had never dreamed in a million years that Daphne would be able to convince a veteran of the turn-down like Oberon to actually become a spokesperson for the organization; it was just an excuse to work on her pitch and refine it.
Daphne herself had been startled by the fact that it hadn’t actually taken a huge effort to convince the man—she had thought on more than one occasion that he would just walk away and leave her sputtering. But she had managed to hit on the right combination of motives—and for that she blessed her PR training, which had led her to investigate the most important VIPs at the party a week in advance.
Daphne gathered up the file that contained all of the contracts she’d managed to get signed the night before and straightened her shoulders, taking a final deep breath before she strode from her desk to Amelia’s office. It was likely that Amelia just wanted to debrief—to get a report on the number of spokesperson contracts she had set up, maybe even congratulate her on doing the impossible.
Daphne knocked on Amelia’s door, smiling to herself. “Come in!” she heard from inside. Daphne opened the door and stepped in, letting it close behind her.
“What’s up?” Daphne asked, stepping over to the chair on the other side of the desk and sitting down. Now that she was starting to recover from her hangover, she really wanted the coffee she’d forgone at home—maybe she’d have a chance to run across the street after her meeting with Amelia and get something from the café.
“Great work on Alex Oberon last night,” Amelia said, smiling in a way that was both pleasant and strangely off-putting to Daphne. “I honestly didn’t think anyone could ever convince him. What did you do to get him to sign up?” Daphne shrugged, smiling back at her boss in spite of feeling as though she were in the hot seat.
“Well, I pointed out that his reputation is on the iffy side right now, and that becoming a charity spokesperson could head that off at the pass,” she said. “It also gives him something to turn to when his business competition heats up a bit.” She thought better of telling her boss the final nail in the coffin—that signing up with her would annoy Amelia. Even as sluggish as her thoughts were, she knew better than that.
“Well, I’m really impressed. I figured it’d be good practice for you, maybe toughen you up a bit more.” Amelia gestured for the file that Daphne had brought with her. “This is really great, Daph,” Daphne handed the file over and tried not to fidget in her seat. “These are some great recruits.” Amelia flipped through the spokesperson contracts for a moment. “There’s one thing.”
“What’s that?” Daphne tried not to sound startled. She had signed the impossible recruit. She had gotten half a dozen people to sign up in total. What could there be?
“Well, since you’re obviously the only one who can talk Alex into working with us, the higher-ups and I decided earlier this morning that you’ll be the one to work with him.” Daphne kept her smile firmly in place. This was not something that she was exactly ready for; she was outreach, she wasn’t spokesperson management. There was a whole staff of people at the organization who got spokespeople to participate in events and give them the talking points.
“That seems like an… interesting addition to my responsibilities,” Daphne said as diplomatically as possible. She swallowed. As much as she had enjoyed the triumph of convincing Oberon, she didn’t think he liked her very much, and she didn’t look forward to taking time out of her normal work to track him down and convince him to attend events or do interviews.
“Well, as you know, we all tend to wear multiple hats here,” Amelia said, with that pleasant-unpleasant smile on her face. “Of course, this project will give you an edge when it comes to moving up in the company.”
Therefore, Daphne thought wryly, trying to turn it down and pass it off would make her look bad. “I look forward to the challenge,” she
said, smiling as broadly as she could. “Do we have Mr. Oberon’s contact information on file?”
“I have his card all ready for you.” Amelia handed her a long, heavy card; when Daphne looked at it, it was covered in details: address, business address, both personal and business email, business and personal phone number, on and on. Daphne felt her stomach starting to turn over inside of her again, and thought that as unsettled as she felt, in order to tackle the new challenge, she would definitely need some coffee.
“I’ll check in with you later,” Amelia told her—an obvious dismissal. Daphne stood and left the office as quickly as possible. She definitely needed some coffee.
*
Alexander was seriously beginning to regret the impulse that had brought him to sign up to become a spokesperson for ARC. It would have been so much easier to cut himself some slack on his duties to the charity as a spokesperson if he had not been forced to work with Daphne. He had thought—when he signed up—that it would be the last real time that he would have to talk to her in any real capacity. Maybe they would exchange pleasantries at an event or two and he could breathe in the alluring scent of her pheromones, enjoy the view from the front and the back, but he would be paired with someone else in the organization, someone who would just be grateful that he was doing his part at all.
Instead, the very day after the gala, when he was settling in to read some reports on the progress that one of his competitors had made in their foray into what Oberon Industrial had been doing for decades, his phone buzzed. “Mr. Oberon, Amelia Harkness from the Animal Rights Coalition is on line one for you.”
Alexander smiled to himself; he fully anticipated some sour grapes from the woman in charge of spokesperson recruitment after she’d seen him let Daphne lead him to the sign-up table. He had long since given his assistant the notification that he would take Amelia’s calls at any time—it was amusing to him, and she rarely presumed, mostly calling to let him know when the next gala would be.
Simply Bears: A Ten Book Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance Collection Page 15
