"No." I shook my head. "I mean buying gifts for other people. I grew up without money. I come from the middle class. I know what that life's like. And how money influences everything.
"Now I have plenty. I can buy what I want. Most things that are expensive to other people seem cheap to me. It's easy to scare people away with gifts that are too expensive." I was testing her out. Seeing what her opinion on expensive gifts was.
"You mean like buckets of popcorn?" She grinned impishly.
I laughed. "I mean like a hundred-dollar scarf or a five-hundred-dollar purse."
"Oh!" She nodded. "We're talking about women here. That's where the frightening gifts come from. Are most of the women you date not from money, then?"
"A few." I stared at her.
She pursed her lips, considering it. "I can see your point. Expensive gifts can make the non-gold-digging, non-user type of person feel uncomfortable. Especially when you can't reciprocate in kind. And they can make you feel obligated to the other person, too."
I smiled. I liked her answer. It was completely in character for her. She wasn't the gold-digging kind of girl.
"Would you like to see the ring?" I said on impulse. I didn't know why it mattered, but I wanted her opinion on it. "Helen's ring. The one the Dead Duke has mandated I propose with."
"Oh!" She nodded. "Is that what Mr. Thorne handed you at the meeting?"
"Yeah. It must have had sentimental value for the old codger, the Dead Duke."
She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "I wondered. I've been curious about it. I love antique jewelry. I just haven't been able to afford any. Is it nice?"
"That's a matter of opinion. Apparently it comes with the job." I paused. "Look. Women are particular about their engagement rings. The woman I marry is entitled to pick out her own. If the new duchess wants something different, she can just drag out the old ring for ceremonial occasions."
"Like running the tourist shop?"
"Exactly that." I grinned at her. "So? Want to see it?"
"Yeah. Sure. Obviously. I'm dying of curiosity now."
"Hang on. I'll be right back." I retrieved it from my office.
When I returned, she was sitting, feet curled up in the theater seat, finishing the last of the popcorn while she waited for me. My heart pounded as I opened the box and held it out to her. For some damn reason, I wanted to please her.
She took the box tentatively and studied it. Her eyes went wide. "Art deco." She sounded almost reverent. "I love that period. That's what I was guessing. If Helen got it new. But then, I thought, maybe the ring had been the Dead Duke's mother's or something."
"Hers went down with the Titanic, I think."
"Oh." Haley blinked. "How tragic." She took a closer look at the ring. "All diamonds. No sapphires or emeralds."
"Is that disappointing?"
"No. It's stunning. It's just that in that period, many engagement rings had other precious stones. I love sapphires, and real emeralds, not lab-created ones, are rare. But this is truly beautiful. How many carats would you guess? The large diamond in the center looks to me to be about three."
I nodded. "That looks about right."
"White gold or platinum?"
"Platinum."
"Well." She handed it back. "It's gorgeous. Large. Certainly expensive. Hard to tell exactly how expensive without knowing the quality of the diamonds. They look flawless to the naked eye, at least. Whoever selected it—Helen or the Dead Duke—had good taste. Looking at it makes me wonder about them. Makes them real, don't you think?"
I shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it."
She took another look at the ring. "It's in immaculate condition. But then, the duchess died young. She wouldn't have had it long, and it's obviously been recently cleaned and polished to its original brilliance.
"The Dead Duke would have been on the impoverished side, for him, anyway, when he gave it to Helen. That would have been before he used his financial genius to increase the small amount of money his mother left him. He was marrying Helen to save the dukedom." She glanced at me and laughed. "For her money, in his case.
"Do you think this ring says he loved her?"
"I don't know," I said, honestly.
"Hmmm." She seemed mesmerized by it. "Or only that he wanted to impress her? Or it was a matter of pride to show off? Did he spend more for it than he could comfortably afford at the time? Take her tastes into consideration?
"I've seen art deco period rings with about as many carats on Etsy for around thirty grand. Enough for someone to kosh your duchess over the head for it. Ceremonial occasions only, I'd say."
I was happy she liked it. Way happier than I should have been. I hated to tell her, but if her estimate was right, that would be the cheapest piece of jewelry my duchess would own, as a matter of pride. And I was willing to spend a boatload more on a woman I loved.
Haley
At four a.m. I tried to sneak back into my house without waking anyone. Sid popped right up and met me in the hall, turning on the light and startling me.
She wore a disappointed expression and had her hands on her hips. "What are you doing home so early? I was hoping you'd spend the night with him." She sounded like a scolding mother.
I laughed. "It's that horrible pregnancy clause."
She frowned, puzzled and sleepy-eyed. "I must not be awake enough. I don't understand. Pregnancy clause?"
I explained.
"But you're on birth control," she said.
I was. For my painful periods, among other things.
"Birth control isn't one hundred percent effective. We can't take any chances." I laughed.
She looked skeptical. "He doesn't have sexual problems, does he?"
"No," I said. "Trust me."
She shrugged. "But it went all right?"
"It went perfectly!" I didn't tell her about giving him my DNA. It was a good thing I couldn't stop beaming.
She studied me then broke into a sleepy smile. "Good! I can see that. I want to hear all about it."
"In the morning."
"It is the morning."
"I meant after we get some sleep," I said. "After I get some and you get more."
The next morning, Sid was up before I was. She was sitting at the table, reading something on her phone. She got up and poured me a cup of coffee and slid her phone over for me to see.
"What's this?"
"An article I found by a woman who dated a billionaire for a while and what she learned. Read it."
"Before I've had my coffee?"
She set a cup in front of me. "I want you to be prepared for what you're getting into."
I sighed and read aloud. "'Number one—billionaires have great PR people. Before I started dating the billionaire, I Googled him. His press was great. Turns out he wasn't. His press said he was a warm, kind, humble philanthropist. He was a full-of-himself cheapskate.'" I glanced at Sid. "Riggins is a nice person. And not stingy. Except with his popcorn."
Sid didn't get the inside joke.
"Tons of success and billions of dollars will give anyone an ego."
Sid sat down next to me.
"Riggins is just a regular guy," I reassured her. "'You'll always live in his shadow,'" I read. "Okay, that one might have some merit. The press will always be about him.
"'And lastly, no matter what you do or what you think, or how many gifts you turn down or accept, people will always accuse you of being a gold digger.'" I nodded. "So true." I slid Sid's phone to her.
"You're not scared off?"
I shook my head. "Not at all. Riggins is different. But it's sweet of you to care. Hey!" I said. "He's invited you to come with us and spend the weekend at Wareswood Castle. We're going to have a combination house party and duchess contest."
Riggins
If I had been concerned about losing my heart before, spending the day with Haley reaffirmed it. I liked being with her. Too much. There was something genuine and fresh about her. She wasn't pretentio
us. And she was so damn loyal to her sister and those she loved. She was even loyal to me. Not that I deserved it, necessarily. I was still out for number one.
But what other woman would have handed me her DNA with such bravado and effectively given me a way to cut her out of several hundred million dollars? Her sense of right and fairness was admirable, if naive. She seemed so damn unimpressed by my wealth. And more interested in me.
I wasn't insensible to how rare that was. Especially in a woman as young as she was. It took incredible confidence in herself. And confidence was always sexy.
But now I wondered what I would do. Did I choose the lady or the tiger? And who was who?
I dropped the DNA test in the mail and called Thorne to ask him to get Rose's for comparison.
On Monday, I drove the Lamborghini to work. I pulled into the parking garage and squealed around the corners. When I got to my reserved spot, someone had a hung a new sign.
Duke Parking Only
The aristocratic kind
Below it was a mock Feldhem family crest—a felt ham in a shield with two crossed swords.
Damn that Justin! This could only be his work. I made a mental note to get him back.
To my pleasant surprise, the parking garage was quiet. I jumped out of the car and took the sky bridge across to the office. Even though we had grown tremendously in the last couple of years, Flash retained the feeling of a small firm that was like family. I didn't have a private entrance or a private elevator. Neither Jus nor I did. We walked the floors and chatted with our employees. Played Ping-Pong on break. Had an open-door policy. It was one of the things that made Flash so great.
I took the elevator from the second-floor sky bridge level to the ground floor to go in through badge check. When the elevator doors pinged open, the peace and quiet was shattered by a mob of women wearing the duke's personal fan club T-shirts in navy blue with the Union Jack, holding banners that said "Dukes Do It With Style," and screaming.
"There he is! That's him!"
I reached for the button to close the doors too late. One of my fans got her foot in and stopped the door from closing. I was barraged with a volley of flying panties being snapped at me like rubber bands. Damn, they had some fine elastic. One woman swooned and passed out.
Another threw herself at me and wrapped her arms around my neck. A third held out a pen and asked me to sign her breast.
A camera crew was catching it all on film for the noon news.
Fortunately, my security team stepped in, pried the woman off me, dispatched the woman offering her breast, surrounded me, and escorted me through the throng. My receptionist looked harried as we passed her. She was surrounded by extra security, too.
The team got me past the badge check and into the secure confines of the offices.
I thanked the team and spent a minute strategizing with them about how to handle the disturbance before heading to my office, trailing thong panties as I went.
Jus was waiting for me in my office, sitting in a chair, working on his laptop. He grinned when I walked in. "Good morning, Your Grace. Forgive me if I don't stand and bow."
"Felt ham, really? Duke parking only?" I raised an eyebrow.
He laughed. "Are you modeling a new line of panties for one of our events?" He pointed to my shoulder and hair. "Interesting way to showcase them."
"Shit." I picked a pink thong off my shoulder, snapped it at him, and dusted a blue lace number out of my hair.
"Not entranced with your fans, duke?"
I scowled at him and closed the door. "Any luck over the weekend?"
"Nothing. Nada. Zip. That Dead Duke of yours was smarter than we originally gave him credit for. I've tried hacking into his computers. They're locked up tight. Not even my friend Dex could get in or find anything. But it looks like that might be moot now, with you having another choice."
"Yeah. But I need to know if she's legit." And whether I should mail Haley's DNA to the lab. "What are you and Kayla doing this weekend? I'm planning a house party at Wareswood Castle and I'd like you to come."
Jus frowned. "A house party? What the hell is that?"
"I'm renting the entire place out. Haley and her sister will be there. Lady Rose. Myself."
"Oh. I get it. You're offering us a front-row seat while you choose your duchess. How could I turn that down? I'll have to check with the boss, of course. But it sounds like the kind of entertainment she'll enjoy."
"Great! I need her help."
"You're going to put my pregnant wife to work?" He looked surprised and curious.
"In a manner of speaking. I need her to make a point of how uncomfortable and hard pregnancy is."
Justin raised an eyebrow. "I see where you're going with this. Kay doesn't exactly love being pregnant like some women. And she's ready to be done. She's not exactly hating it, either. But she could come up with something. Trying to scare off one of the contenders with fears of pregnancy?"
"Astute." I nodded and grinned. "What about Lazer? Think he'd enjoy it?"
Jus shot me a surprised look and snickered. "You must be desperate. You and Lazer don't typically get along."
"Our competition is all in good fun," I said. "I think in this case, he may come in very handy. He has skills, and a title—Northwest's Hottest Bachelor—that I need."
"Now you're just dangling temptation in front of the potential duchesses, aren't you?" Jus said.
I grinned. "Think Lazer will protest? Hitting on two hot women is rough duty. If he's not man enough for the job—"
"You're playing with fire," Jus said. "What if he peels them both off? He is the hottest bachelor."
I laughed. "I'm more afraid he won't detach either of them."
Jus shook his head. "Given what you have in mind, I don't see how Lazer could resist. Make sure you fill him in."
Jus and I discussed a few more issues, mostly Flash business. He was just leaving when there was a knock on the door.
Jennifer stepped in with a package in her hand. "This just arrived for you, Riggins."
"Is it from one of my fans downstairs in the lobby?" I eyed it cautiously.
"I don't think so, boss. It's from that big major online retailer who shall not be named. The one whose headquarters are just a few blocks away from us. The one who likes to compete with us where our product lines overlap with theirs, poach our employees, and whose goal is to take over the world." She was grinning. "It was delivered by a major carrier. Same-day service."
We were always joking about them. Flash's early years of growth had outpaced theirs. I can't tell you how happy that made me.
"A fan could have ordered it," I said, grumpily.
Jus stopped in the doorway next to Jennifer. "Maybe it's another thong. Do you have a green one yet?"
"Shut up." I glared at him.
"Should I call security? Have them check it out for bombs and dangerous lingerie?" Justin winked at Jennifer.
"It feels like a book, boss. That is their specialty."
"Maybe it's a book of love poetry. An ode to a duke," Jus said very helpfully as he took the package from Jennifer and held it out to me. "Open it! Open it! Your safety is my first concern. I'm not leaving until you do."
I snatched the book from him, pulled the strip tab to open it, and slid a paperback book out. "The British to American English Compendium?"
I smiled. Damn, I couldn’t help it. A gift receipt was stuck to the front.
Time to get your British on, Duke. Cake and ale are over. I'm certainly not one to make a long nose at the opportunity before me. I'll be bringing my A-game to our next amusement. And no, I don't mean carnival ride.
Looking forward to the weekend!
Haley
PS If you don't understand this message, use the book.
I broke out laughing. Haley had just sent me the perfect gift. Damn.
Justin stared at me. "Who's it from?"
"Haley."
"Smart girl," he said. "One point for her. Now that the
danger's passed, I'm out of here."
"Inside joke," I said to Jennifer. How did you say that in British?
Chapter 8
Haley
On Monday, I was nervous. What would Riggins think of the gift I'd sent him? It was meant to be flirty and fun. Intimate. And to show, of course, that I wasn't cheap. What do you give the guy who has everything? The gift of laughter, of course. With a dose of foreign language thrown in for good measure. Haha.
I was on pins and needles as I waited for a response. I'd sent it with same-day delivery, but there was no telling when, exactly, it would arrive. Actually, I was just hoping for a response and that Riggins wasn't totally distracted by the arrival of his panty-throwing fan club. Guys, you tell me—was it really titillating to have sexy panties tossed at you? Were you supposed to imagine that the panty thrower was now commando and waiting for you?
I'd never actually heard of the opposite—guys throwing their boxers and tighty whities at hot women. Not that I'd heard of everything. I was pretty naïve when it came down to it. I supposed that if some guy ever threw his underwear at me I would just be hoping they were clean. Now, on second thought, I wondered if I should have sent Riggins a thong panty in the old red, white, and blue along with that compendium? Tactical mistake?
His plane full of British groupies mobbing him was all over the news and social media. There was one completely hilarious picture of Riggins putting up his arms to shield himself from a volley of panty fire that was trending everywhere. I was wondering just how he planned to ditch his admiring horde in the long run. If they showed up at the castle, that could be awkward.
Finally, my phone buzzed with a text from Riggins. My heart pounded in my ears as I read it.
After a bad patch this morning, I spoke with the bailiff of the castle and booked the weekend. He assured me the bedmakers won't even be seen and the period bedside lockers are both functional and beautiful.
I hope this isn't a balls-up. I spent a fair amount of bean on this party. But why do it on a bootlace when I can afford more? Bad form to mention that?
The Duchess Contest: A Jet City Billionaire Serial Romance (The Billionaire Duke Series Book 2) Page 8
